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 meads.

But this is not the best.

Look prithee, Charmian,

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 :
Oh, 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 it felf.

Cleo. 'Tis 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 lawrell'd Victory, and smooth Success
Be strew'd before your Feet.

Ant. Let us go.

Come: Our separation so abides and flies,
That thou refiding here, goest yet with me,
And I hence fleeting, here remain with thee.

Away.

M

[Exeunt.

Enter Octavius Cæfar reading a Letter, Lepidus, and

Attendants.

Caf. You may fee, Lepidus, and henceforth know,

It is not Cafar's natural Voice, to hate

One great Competitor. From Alexandria

This is the News; he fishes, drinks, and wastes

The Lamps of Night in revels; Is not more Manlie
VOL. VI.

B

Than

To reel the Streets at Noon, and stand the Buffet
With Knaves that smell of sweat; fay this becomes him;
As his composure must be rare indeed,

Whom these things cannot blemish, yet must Antony
No way excuse his Foils, when we do bear
So great weight in his Lightness. If he fill'd
His vacancy with his Voluptuousness;
Full furfeits, and the driness 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, 'tis to be chid:
As we rate Boys, who being mature in Knowledge,
Pawn their experience to their present Pleasure,

And so rebel to Judgment.

Enter a Messenger.

Lep. Here's more News.

Mes. Thy biddings have been done, and every hour,

Most noble Cafar, shalt thou have report

How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at Sea,

And it appears, he is belov'd of those
That only have fear'd Cafar: to the Ports
The Discontents repair, and Mens reports
Give him much wrong'd.

Caf. I should have known no lefs,
It hath been taught us from the primal State,
That he which is, was wish'd, until he were :

And

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, lacking the varying Tide
To rot it felf with motion.

Mes. Cafar, 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 inrodes
They make in Italy, the borders Maritime

Lack Blood to think on't, and flesh youth to revolt,
No Veffel can peep forth, but 'tis as foon

Taken as feen: For Pompey's Name strikes more
Than could his War resisted.

Cas. Antony,

Leave thy lafcivious Vassals. When thou once
Wert beaten from Mutina, where thou flew'st
Hirtius and Pansa Consuls, at thy heel
Did famine follow, whom thou fought'st against,
Though daintily brought up, with patience more
Than Savages could fuffer. Thou didst drink
The stale of Horses, and the gilded Puddle
Which Beasts would cough at. Thy Pallat then did daia
The roughest Berry on the rudest Hedge.
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 ftrange Flesh,
Which some did die to look on; and all this,
It wounds thine honour that I speak it now,
Was born so like a Soldier, that thy cheek
So much as lank'd not.

Lep. 'Tis pity of him.

Caf. Let his thames quickly

Drive him to Rome, 'tis time we twain
Did thew our selves i'th'Field, and to that end
Assemble we immediate Council; Pompey
Thrives in our Idleness.

Lep. To morrow, Cafar,
I shall be furnith'd to inform you rightly,
Both what, by Sea and Land, I can be able,
To front this present time.

B2

Caf.

Caf. 'Till which encounter, it is my Business too. FarewelLep. Farewel my Lord, what you shall know mean time Of stirs abroad, I shall befeech, you, Sir, To let me be partaker.

Cas. Doubt not, Sir, I knew it for my Bond. (Exeunt. SCENE III. Alexandria.

Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Mardian.

Cleo. Charmian.

Char. Madam.

Cleo. Ha, ha-give me to drink Mandragoras.

Char. Why, Madam ?

Cleo. That I might fleep out this great gap of time,

My Antony is away.

Char. You think of him too much.

Cleo. O'tis Treafon.

Char. Madam, I trust not fo.

Cleo. Thou, Eunuch, Mardian ?

Mar. What's your Highne's pleasure ?

Cleo. Not now to hear thee fing. I take no pleasure

In ought an Eunuch has; 'tis well for thee,

That being unfeminaried, thy freer Thoughts

May not not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou Affections?

Mar. Yes, gracious Madam.

Cleo. Indeed?

Mar. Not in deed, Madam, for I can do nothing

But what indeed is honeft to be done :

Yet have I fierce Affections, and think

What Venus did with Mars.

Cleo. Oh Charmian!

Where think'ft thou he is now ? Stands he, or fits he?
Or does he walk? Or is he on his Horse ?

Oh happy Ho se to bear the weight of Antony!
Do bravely, Horse, for wot'st thou whom thou mov'st
The demy Atlas of this Earth, the Arm
And Burgonet of Man. He's speaking now,
Or murmuring, where's my Serpent of old Nile,
For fo he calls me; now I feed my se'f

With most delicious Poison. Think on m

That am with Phabus amorous pinches black,

And

And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Cafar,
When thou wast here above the Ground, I was
A morsel of 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. Soveraign of Egypt, hail.

Cleo. How much art thou unlike Mark Antony? Yet coming from him, that great Medicine hath With his Tint gilded thee.

How goes it with my brave Mark Antony?

Alex. Last thing he did, dear Queen,
He kist the last of many doubled kisses,

This orient Pearl. His Speech sticks in my Heart,
Cleo. Mine Ear must pluck it thence.

Alex. Good Friends, quoth he,

Say the firm Roman to great Ægypt fends
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 foberly did mount an Arm-gaunt Steed,

Who neigh'd so high, that what I would have spoke,
Was beastly dumb by him.

Cleo. What, was he sad or merry ?

Alex. Like to the time o'th' Year, between the extreams

Of hot and cold, he was not sad nor merry.

Cleo. Oh well divided disposition; note him,
Note him good Charmian, 'tis the Man; but note him,
He was not fad, for he would shine on those
That make their looks by his. He was not merry,
Which seem'd to tell them, his remembrance lay
In Ægypt with his joy; but between both.
Oh heav'nly mingle! Be'st thou sad, or merry,
The violence of either thee becomes,
So do's it no Man else. Met'st thou my Posts ?
Alex. Ay, Madam, twenty several Messengers,

Why do you fend fo thick ?

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

B 3

Shall

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