What says the married woman?-You may go;
'Would she had never given you leave to come!
Let her not say 't is I that keep you here,
I have no power upon you; hers you are.
Ant. The gods best know,-
Cleo.
O, never was there queen
So mightily betray'd! Yet, at the first,
I saw the treasons planted. Ant. Cleopatra,
Cleo. Why should I think you can be mine, and true,
Though you in swearing shake the throned gods,
Who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous madness,
To be entangled with those mouth-made vows,
Which break themselves in swearing!
Ant.
Most sweet queen,
Cleo. Nay, pray you, seek no colour for your going,
But bid farewell, and go: when you sued staying,
Then was the time for words: No going then ;-
Eternity was in our lips and eyes;

Bliss in our brows' bent; none our parts so poor,
But was a race of heaven: They are so still,
Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world,
Art turn'd the greatest liar. Ant. How now, lady!
Cleo. I would I had thy inches; thou should'st
There were a heart in Egypt.
[know

Hear me, queen:

Ant.
The strong necessity of time commands
Our services a while; but my full heart
Remains in use with you. Our Italy
Shines o'er with civil swords: Sextus Pompeius
Makes his approaches to the port of Rome:
Equality of two domestic powers

Breeds scrupulous faction: The hated, grown to strength,

Are newly grown to love: the condemned Pompey,
Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace
Into the hearts of such as have not thriv'd
Upon the present state, whose numbers threaten;
And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge
By any desperate change: My more particular,
And that which most with you should safe my going,
Is Fulvia's death.
[freedom,
Cleo. Though age from folly could not give me
It does from childishness:-Can Fulvia die?
Ant. She's dead, my queen:
Look here, and at thy sovereign leisure read
The garboils she awak'd; at the last, best;

See when and where she died.
Cleo.
O most false love!
Where be the sacred vials thou should'st fill
With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see,
In Fulvia's death how mine receiv'd shall be.
Ant. Quarrel no more, but be prepar'd to know
The purposes I bear; which are, or cease,
As you shall give the advice: By the fire
That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence,
Thy soldier, servant; making peace or war
As thou affect'st.
Cleo.

Cut my lace, Charmian, come;-
But let it be.-I am quickly ill, and well,
So Antony loves.
Ant.
My precious queen, forbear;
And give true evidence to his love, which stands
An honourable trial. Cleo. So Fulvia told me.
I prithee, turn aside, and weep for her;
Then bid adieu to me, and say the tears
Belong to Egypt: Good now, play one scene
Of excellent dissembling; and let it look
Like perfect honour.
Ant.
You'll heat my blood: no more.
Cleo. You can do better yet; but this is meetly.
Ant. Now, by my sword,-
Cleo.
And target,-Still he mends;
But this is not the best: Look, prithee, Charinian,
How this Herculean Roman does become
The carriage of his chafe.
Ant.

I'll leave you, lady.
Cleo. Courteous lord, one word.

Sir, you and I must part,-but that 's not it:
Sir, you and I have lov'd,-but there 's not it;
That you know well: Something it is I would,—
O, my oblivion is a very Antony,
And I am all forgotten.
Ant.
But that your royalty
Holds idleness your subject, I should take you
For idleness itself. Gleo. 'T is sweating labour
To bear such idleness so near the heart
As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me;
Since my becomings kill me, when they do not
Eye well to you: Your honour calls you hence;
Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly,

And all the gods go with you! Upon your sword
Sit laurel victory, and smooth success
Be strew'd before your feet!
Ant.

Let us go. Come:
Our separation so abides, and flies,
That thou, residing here, go'st yet with me,
And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee.
Away.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-Rome. An Apartment in Cæsar's
House.

Enter Octavius Cresar, Lepidus, and Attendants.
Cas. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know,
It is not Cæsar's natural vice to hate
Our great competitor: from Alexandria
This is the news: He fishes, drinks, and wastes
The lamps of night in revel: is not more man-like
Than Cleopatra; nor the queen of Ptolemy
More womanly than he hardly gave audience,
Or vouchsaf'd to think he had partners: You shall
find there

A man who is the abstract of all faults
That all men follow.
Lep.
I must not think there are
Evils enow to darken all his goodness:
His faults, in him, seem as the spots of heaven,
More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary,
Rather than purchas'd; what he cannot change,
Than what he chooses.

Cæs. You are too indulgent: Let's grant it is not
Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy;
To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit
And keep the turn of tippling with a slave;
To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet
With knaves that smell of sweat; say, this becomes
(As his composure must be rare indeed [him,
Whom these things cannot blemish,) yet must An-
No way excuse his soils, when we do bear
[tony
So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd
His vacancy with his voluptuousness,
Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones,

Call on him for 't: but, to confound such time,
That drums him from his sport, and speaks as loud
As his own state, and ours,-'t is to be chid,
As we rate boys; who, being mature in knowledge,
Pawn their experience to their present pleasure,
And so rebel to judgment.

Lep.

Enter a Messenger.

Here's more news.

Mess. Thy biddings have been done; and every
Most noble Cæsar, shalt thou have report [hour,
How 't is abroad. Pompey is strong at sea;
And it appears he is belov'd of those
That only have fear'd Cæsar: to the ports
The discontents repair, and men's reports
Give him much wrong'd.
Cas.
I should have known no less:
It hath been taught us from the primal state,
That he which is was wish'd, until he were :
And the ebb'd man, ne'er lov'd till ne'er worth love,
Comes fear'd by being lack'd. This common body,
Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream,
Goes to, and back, lackeying the varying tide,
To rot itself with motion.
Mess.
Cæsar, I bring thee word,
Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates,
Make the sea serve them; which they ear and wound
With keels of every kind: Many hot inroads
They make in Italy; the borders maritime
Lack blood to think on 't, and flush youth revolt:
No vessel can peep forth but 't is as soon
Taken as seen; for Pompey's name strikes more
Than could his war resisted.

Antony,

Cæs. Leave thy lascivious vassails. When thou once Wast beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel Did famine follow; whom thou fought'st against, Though daintily brought up, with satience more Than savages could suffer: Thou didst drink The stale of horses, and the gilded puddle Which beasts would cough at: thy palate then did The roughest berry on the rudest hedge; [deign Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets, The barks of trees thou browsed'st; on the Alps It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh, Which some did die to look on: And all this (It wounds thine honour that I speak it now) Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek So much as lank'd not.

Lep. 'T is pity of him. Cas.

Let his shames quickly Drive him to Rome: 'T is time we twain)

Did show ourselves i' the field; and, to that end,
Assemble me immediate council. Pompey
Thrives in our idleness.
Lep.

To-morrow, Cæsar,

I shall be furnish'd to inform you rightly
Both what by sea and land I can be able,
To front this present time.
Cas.

It is my business too.

Till which encounter,
Farewell.

Lep. Farewell, my lord: What you shall know
Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir, [meantime
To let me be partaker.
Cæs.

Doubt not, sir;

[Exeunt.

I knew it for my bond.
SCENE V.-Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.
Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Mardian.

Cleo. Indeed?

Mar. Yes, gracious madam. Mar. Not in deed, madam; for I can do nothing But what indeed is honest to be done: Yet I have fierce affections, and think What Venus did with Mars. Cleo. O Charmian, Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits Or does he walk? or is he on his horse? [he? O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony! Do bravely, horse! for wot'st thou whom thou The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm [mov'st? And burgonet of men.-He 's speaking now, Or murmuring, 'Where 's my serpent of old Nile?' For so he calls me: Now I feed myself With most delicious poison:- Think on me, That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black, And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Cæsar, When thou wast here above the ground, I was A morsel for a monarch: and great Pompey Would stand, and make his eyes grow in my brow; There would he anchor his aspect, and die With looking on his life.

Enter Alexas.

Alex.
Sovereign of Egypt, hail!
Cleo. How much unlike art thou Mark Antony!
Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath
With his tinct gilded thee.-

How goes it with my brave Mark Antony?
Alex. Last thing he did, dear queen,

He kiss'd, the last of many doubled kisses,
This orient pearl:-His speech sticks in my heart.
Cleo. Mine ear must pluck it thence.
Alex.

Good friend, quoth he
Say, The firm Roman to great Egypt sends
This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot,
To mend the petty present, I will piece
Her opulent throne with kingdoms: All the east'
Say thou, shall call her mistress.' So he nodded,
And soberly did mount an arm-gaunt steed,
Who neigh'd so high, that what I would have spoke
Was beastly dumb'd by him.

Cleo.
What, was he sad, or merry?
Alex. Like to the time o' the year between the
extremes

Of hot and cold: he was nor sad nor merry.
Cleo. O well-divided disposition!-Note him,
Note him, good Charmian, 't is the man; but note
He was not sad; for he would shine on those [him:
That make their looks by his: he was not merry;
Which seem'd to tell them his remembrance lay
In Egypt with his joy: but between both:
O heavenly mingle!-Beest thou sad, or merry,
The violence of either thee becomes;
So does it no man else.-Mett'st thou my posts?
Alex. Ay, madam, twenty several messengers:
Why do you send so thick?

Cleo.

Who 's born that day When I forget to send to Antony,

Shall die a beggar.-Ink and paper, Charmian.-
Welcome, my good Alexas.-Did I, Charmian,
Ever love Cæsar so?
Char.

O that brave Cæsar!

Cleo. Be chok'd with such another emphasis!
Say, the brave Antony.
Char.
The valiant Cæsar!
Cleo. By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth,
If thou with Cæsar paragon again
My man of men!
Char.

By your most gracious pardon,
I sing but after you. Cleo. My salad days!
When I was green in judgment,-cold in blood,
To say as I said then!-But come, away:
Get me ink and paper: he shall have every day
A several greeting, or I'll unpeople Egypt. Exe.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-Messina. A Room in Pompey's House.
Enter Pompey, Menecrates, and Menas.
Fom. If the great gods be just, they shall assist
The deeds of justest men.
Mene.
Know, worthy Pompey,
That what they do delay they not deny.
Pom. Whiles we are suitors to their throne, decays
The thing we sue for.
Mene.

We, ignorant of ourselves,

Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers
Deny us for our good; so find we profit,

By losing of our prayers. Pom. I shall do well:
The people love ine, and the sea is mine;
My power's a crescent, and my auguring hope
Says it will come to the full. Mark Antony
In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make

No wars without doors: Cæsar gets money where
He loses hearts: Lepidus flatters both,

Of both is flatter'd; but he neither loves,
Nor either cares for him.

Men.

Cæsar and Lepidus
Are in the field; a mighty strength they carry.
Pom. Where have you this? 't is false."
Men.

From Silvius, sir. Pom. He dreams; I know they are in Rome together,

Looking for Antony: But all the charms of love,
Salt Cleopatra, soften thy wan'd lip!

Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both!
Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts;
Keep his brain fuming; Epicurean cooks
Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite;
That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honour
Even till à Lethe'd dulness. How now, Varrius?
Enter Varrius.

Var. This is most certain that I shall deliver:
Mark Antony is every hour in Rome
Expected; since he went from Egypt, 't is
A space for farther travel.
Pom.

I could have given less matter
A better ear.-Menas, I did not think
This amorous surfeiter would have donn'd his helm
For such a petty war: his soldiership
Is twice the other twain: But let us rear
The higher our opinion, that our stirring
Can from the lap of Egypt's widow pluck
The ne'er lust-wearied Antony.

Men.

I cannot hope Cæsar and Antony shall well greet together: His wife that 's dead did trespasses to Cæsar; His brother warr'd upon him; although, I think, Not mov'd by Antony. Pom. I know not, Menas, How lesser enmities may give way to greater. Were 't not that we stand up against them all, 'T were pregnant they should square between them. For they have entertained cause enough [selves; To draw their swords: but how the fear of us May cement their divisions, and bind up The petty difference, we yet not know." Be it as our gods will have it! It only stands Our lives upon to use our strongest hands. Come, Menas.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Rome. A Room in the House of Lepidus.

Enter Enobarbus and Lepidus. Lep. Good Enobarbus, 't is a worthy deed, And shall become you well, to entreat your captain To soft and gentle speech.

Eno.

I shall entreat him
To answer like himself: if Cæsar move him,
Let Antony look over Cæsar's head,
And speak as loud as Mars. By Jupiter,
Were I the wearer of Antonius' beard,

I would not shave 't to-day! Lep. 'Tis not a time
For private stomaching. Eno. Every time
Serves for the matter that is then born in it.
Lep. But small to greater matters must give way.
Eno. Not if the small come first.
Lep.
Your speech is passion:
But, pray you, stir no embers up. Here comes
The noble Antony.

Eno.

Enter Antony and Ventidius.

And yonder Cæsar.

Enter Cæsar, Mecænas, and Agrippa.
Ant. If we compose well here, to Parthia:
Hark, Ventidius.

Cas. I do not know, Mecænas; ask Agrippa.
Lep. Noble friends,

That which combin'd us was most great, and let not
A leaner action rend us. What 's amiss,
May it be gently heard: When we debate

Ant. I learn, you take things ill which are not so; Or, being, concern you not. Cæs. I must be laugh'd at, If, or for nothing, or a little, I Should say myself offended; and with you Chiefly i' the world: more laugh'd at, that I should Once name you derogately, when to sound your name It not concern'd me.

Ant.

What was 't to you?

My being in Egypt, Cæsar,

Cas. No more than my residing here at Rome Might be to you in Egypt: Yet if you there Did practise on my state, your being in Egypt Might be my question.

Ant. How intend you, practis'd! Cæs. You may be pleas'd to catch at mine intent By what did here befall me. Your wife and brother Made wars upon me; and their contestation Was theme for you, you were the word of war. Ant. You do mistake your business; my brother And have my learning from some true reports, Did urge me in his act: I did inquire it; That drew their swords with you. Did he not rather Discredit my authority with yours;

[never

And make the wars alike against my stomach,
Having alike your cause? Of this, my letters
Before did satisfy you. If you 'll patch a quarrel,
As matter whole you have to make it with,
It must not be with this.

Cas. You praise yourself by laying defects of judg. ment to me; but you patch'd up your excuses. Ant. Not so, not so;

I know you could not lack, I am certain on 't,
Your partner in the cause 'gainst which he fought,
Very necessity of this thought, that I,
Could not with graceful eyes attend those wars
Which fronted mine own peace. As for my wife,
I would you had her spirit in such another:
The third o' the world is yours; which with a snaffle
You may pace easy, but not such a wife.
Eno. 'Would we had all such wives, that the men
might go to wars with the women!

Ant. Sir,

Ant. So much uncurbable her garboils, Cæsar, Made out of her impatience, (which not wanted Shrewdness of policy too,) I grieving grant Did you too much disquiet: for that, you must When rioting in Alexandria; you But say I could not help it. Cas. I wrote to you Did pocket up my letters, and with taunts Did gibe my missive out of audience. He fell upon me, ere admitted; then Three kings I had newly feasted, and did want Of what I was i' the morning: but, next day, I told him of myself; which was as much As to have ask'd him pardon: Let this fellow Be nothing of our strife; if we contend, Out of our question wipe him. Cas. You have broken The article of your oath; which you shall never Have tongue to charge ine with.

Lep.

Soft, Cæsar.

Ant. No, Lepidus, let him speak; The honour is sacred which he talks on now, Supposing that I lack'd it: But on, Cæsar; The article of my oath,

Ant.

Cas. To lend me arms and aid when I requir'd The which you both denied. [them; Neglected, rather; And then, when poison'd hours had bound me up From mine own knowledge. As nearly as I may, I'll play the penitent to you; but mine honesty Shall not make poor my greatness, nor my power Work without it: Truth is, that Fulvia,