Whom these things cannot blemish;) Yet is Antony
No way excufed; for to confound fuch time,
That drums him from his fport, and speaks as loud
As our flate, with his own,-'tis to be chid
As we rate boys, who, ripening into knowledge,
Pawn their experience to their prefent pleasure,
And fo rebel to judgment.

Enter a Messenger.

Lep. Here's more news.

Mess. Pompey is ftrong at fea;
And, it appears, he is belov'd of thofe
That only have fear'd Cæfar: to the ports
The difcontents repair, and men's opinions
Give him much wrong'd,

Enter another Messenger.

Mess. Cæfar, I bring thee word,
Menacrates and Menas, famous pirates,
Make the sea serve them:

No veffel can peep forth, but 'tis as foon
Taken as feen; for Pompey's name ftrikes more

Than could his war resisted.

Caes. Antony,

Leave thy lafcivious waffels: when thou once

From Mutina wert beaten, at thy heel

Did Famine follow; whom thou fought'ft against,
Though daintily brought up, with patience more
Than favages could fuffer; nor difdain'd
The roughest berry on the rudeft hedge;
Yea, like the ftag, when fnow the pafture fheets,
The bark of trees thou browsed ft-and all this
Was borne fo like a foldier, that thy cheek
So much as lank'd not.

Lep. It is pity of him.

Cas. Let his fhames quickly

Drive him to Rome. Time is it that we twain
Did fhew ourselves i'the field; and, to that end,
Affemble we immediate council: Pompey
Thrives in our idleness.

Lep. To-morrow, Cæfar,

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. Till which encounter

It is my business too.

Farewel.

Lep. Farewel, my Lord. What you shall know, meantime,

Of ftirs abroad, I fhall befeech you, Sir,

To let me be partaker.

Cas. Doubt not, Sir;

I knew it for bond. my

[Exeunt.

SCENE.-Alexandria.-A Room in the Palace.

Enter CLEOPATRA, supporting herself on IRAS; CHARMION and MARDION following.

Cle. Charmion,

Char. Madam.

Cle. That I might fleep out this great gap of time My Antony is away!

Char. You think of him

Too much.

Cle. O, Charmion !

Where think'ft thou he is now?

Or does he walk, or is he on his horse?

O, happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony ! Do bravely, horfe! for wot'ft thou whom thou mov'ft?

The demi-Atlas of the earth, the arm,

And burgonet of man.-He's fpeaking now,

Or murmuring,- Where's my ferpent of old Nile?'

Enter ALEXAS.

Alex. Sovereign of Egypt, hail!

Cle. How much art thou unlike Mark Antony! Yet, coming from him, that great med'cine hath With its tinct gilded thee.

What tidings of my brave Mark Antony?
Alex Laft thing he did, dear

queen,

He kifs'd, the laft of many double kiffes,

This orient pearl ;-his fpeech fticks in my heart. Cle. Mine ear muft pluck it thence.

Alex. Good friend, quoth he,

Say the firm Roman to great Egypt fends
This-[giving a pearl.]

To mend the petty prefent, I will piece

Her opulent throne with kingdoms: All the Eaft, Say thou, fhall call her miftrefs.-So he nodded, And foberly did mount an arm-gaunt fteed,

That neigh'd fo high, that what I would have spoken Was dumb'd by him.

Cle. What, was he fad, or merry ?

Alex. Like to the time o' the year, between the

extremes

Of hot and cold; he was nor fad, nor merry.
Cle. O, well directed difpofition! note him,
Note him, good Charmion, '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 feeem'd to tell them his remembrance lay
In Egypt, with his joy; but between both.
O, heavenly mingle! Be'ft thou fad, or merry,
The violence of either thee becomes,

So does it no man elfe. Met'ft thou my pofts?
Alex. Ay, Madam, twenty feveral meffengers.
Why do
fend fo thick?

you