Eno. I will tell you:

The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne 23, Burn'd on the water: the poop was beaten gold; Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that

The winds were lovesick with them: the oars were silver;

Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made
The water, which they beat, to follow faster,
As amorous of their strokes. For her own person,
It beggar'd all description: she did lie

In her pavilion (cloth of gold, of tissue),
O'er-picturing that Venus, where we see,
The fancy outwork nature: on each side her,
Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids,
With diverse-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem
To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
And what they undid, did.

Agr.

O, rare for Antony! Eno. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides,

23 The reader will be pleased to have it in his power to compare Dryden's description with that of Shakspeare:

'Her galley down the silver Cydnus row'd,

The tackling, silk, the streamers' wav'd with gold,
The gentle winds were lodg'd in purple sails:

Her nymphs, like Nereids, round her couch were plac'd,
Where she, another seaborn Venus, lay.-

She lay, and leant her cheek upon her hand,
And cast a look so languishingly sweet,

As if secure of all beholders' hearts,

Neglecting she could take 'em: Boys, like Cupids,
Stood fanning with their painted wings the winds
That play'd about her face: But if she smil'd,

A darting glory seem'd to blaze abroad

That man's desiring eyes were never wearied,

But hung upon the object: To soft flutes

The silver oars kept time; and while they play'd,

The hearing gave new pleasure to the sight,

And both to thought. 'Twas heaven, or somewhat inore;

For she so charm'd all hearts, that gazing crowds
Stood panting on the shore, and wanted breath
To give their welcome voice,'

24

So many mermaids, tended her i'the eyes 2+,
And made their bends adornings 25: at the helm
A seeming mermaid steers; the silken tackle
Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands,
That yarely frame 26 the office. From the barge
A strange invisible pérfume hits the sense
Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast
Her people out upon her; and Antony,
Enthron'd in the market-place, did sit alone,
Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy,
Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too,

And made a gap in nature.

Agr.

Rare Egyptian! Eno. Upon her landing, Antony sent to her, Invited her to supper: she replied,

It should be better, he became her guest; Which she entreated: Our courteous Antony, Whom ne'er the word of No woman heard speak,

Being barber'd ten times o'er, goes to the feast; And, for his ordinary, pays his heart,

For what his eyes eat only.

Agr.

Royal wench!

24 i.e. waited upon her looks, discovered her will by her looks. So Spenser, Faerie Queene, b. i. c. iii.:

25

From her fayre eyes he tooke commandement,
And by her looks conceited her intent.'

Made their bends adornings.' On this passage there are several pages of notes in the variorum Shakspeare, which, as Steevens remarks, supply a powerful instance of the uncertainty of verbal criticism; for the same phrase is there explained with

and tails. Until some more fortunate conjecture shall be offered, I adopt Steevens's opinion, that the plain sense of the passage seems to be, these ladies rendered that homage which their assumed characters obliged them to pay their queen, a circumstance ornamental to themselves. Each inclined her person so gracefully, that the very act of humiliation was an improvement of her

own beauty.'

She made great Cæsar lay his sword to bed;
He plough'd her, and she cropp'd.

Eno.

I saw her once

Hop forty paces through the publick street :

And having lost her breath, she spoke, and panted, That she did make defect, perfection,

And, breathless, power breathe forth.

Mec. Now Antony must leave her utterly.

Eno. Never; he will not;

Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale

Her infinite variety 27: Other women

Cloy th' appetites they feed; but she makes hungry Where most she satisfies. For vilest things Become themselves in her; that the holy priests Bless her, when she is riggish 28.

Mec. If beauty, wisdom, modesty, can settle The heart of Antony, Octavia is

A blessed lottery 29 to him.

Let us go.

Agr.
Good Enobarbus, make yourself my guest,
Whilst you abide here.

Eno.

Humbly, sir, I thank you. [Exeunt.

27 Cleopatra, as appears from the tetradrachms of Antony, was no Venus; and indeed the majority of ladies who most successfully enslaved the hearts of princes, are known to have been less remarkable for personal than mental attractions. The reign of insipid beauty is seldom lasting; but permanent must be the rule of a woman who can diversify the sameness of life by an inexhausted variety of accomplishments.

28 Riggish is wanton, immodest. Dryden has emulated Shakspeare in this, as well as the passage before cited; it should be remembered, however, that Shakspeare furnished him with his most striking images.

29 Lottery, for allotment.

'

The same.

SCENE III.

A Room in Cæsar's House.

Enter CESAR, ANTONY, OCTAVIA between them; Attendants, and a Soothsayer.

Ant. The world, and my great office, will sometimes Divide me from your bosom.

Octa.

All which time

Before the gods my knee shall bow my prayers1 To them for you.

Ant. Good night, sir.-My Octavia, Read not my blemishes in the world's report: I have not kept my square; but that to come Shall all be done by the rule. Good night, dear lady.

Octa. Good night, sir.

Cæs. Good night.

[Exeunt CESAR and OCTAVIA. Ant. Now, sirrah! you do wish yourself in Egypt? Sooth. 'Would, I had never come from thence,

Thither!

nor you

Ant. If you can, your reason?

Sooth.

I see't in

My motion, have it not in my tongue: But yet
Hie you again to Egypt.

Ant.

Say to me,

Whose fortunes shall rise higher, Cæsar's, or mine?

Sooth. Cæsar's.

Therefore, O Antony, stay not by his side:
Thy dæmon, that's thy spirit which keeps thee, is
Noble, courageous, high, unmatchable,
Where Cæsar's is not; but near him, thy angel

1 The same construction is found in Coriolanus, Act i. Sc. 1, Shouting their emulation. And in King Lear, Act ii. Sc. 2, Smile you my speeches?'

Becomes a Fear, as being o'erpower'd; therefore Make space enough between

Ant.

you.

Speak this no more. Sooth. To none but thee; no more, but when to thee. If thou dost play with him at any game,

3

Thou art sure to lose; and, of that natural luck, He beats thee 'gainst the odds: thy lustre thickens 3, When he shines by: I say again, thy spirit

Is all afraid to govern thee near him;

But, he

away, 'tis noble.

Ant.

Get thee gone:

Say to Ventidius, I would speak with him:

[Exit Soothsayer. He shall to Parthia.- -Be it art, or hap,

He hath spoken true: The very dice obey him:
And, in our sports, my better cunning faints
Under his chance: if we draw lots, he speeds:
His cocks do win the battle still of mine,

When it is all to nought; and his quails* ever
Beat mine, inhoop'd, at odds. I will to Egypt:
And though I make this marriage for my peace,

Enter VENTIdius.

I'the east my pleasure lies :-O, come, Ventidius,
You must to Parthia; your commission's ready:
Follow me, and receive it.
[Exeunt.

2 A Fear was a personage in some of the old Moralities. See Troilus and Cressida, Act iii. Sc. 2, note 13. The whole thought is borrowed from North's translation of Plutarch.

3 So in Macbeth, light thickens.'

4 Shakspeare derived this from Plutarch. The ancients used to match quails as we match cocks. Julius Pollux relates that a circle was made in which the birds were placed, and he whose quail was first driven out of this circle lost the stake. We are told by Mr. Marsden that the Sumatrans practise these quail combats. The Chinese have always been extremely fond of quail fighting. Mr. Douce has given a print, from an elegant Chinese miniature painting, which represents some ladies engaged at this amusement, where the quails are actually inhooped. See Illustrations of Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 87.