Whom these things cannot blemish;) Yet is Antony Enter a Messenger. Lep. Here's more news. Mess. Pompey is ftrong at fea; Enter another Messenger. Mess. Cæfar, I bring thee word, No veffel can peep forth, but 'tis as foon 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, Lep. It is pity of him. Cas. Let his fhames quickly Drive him to Rome. Time is it that we twain Lep. To-morrow, Cæfar, I shall be furnish'd to inform you rightly, 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? 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 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. He was not fad, for he would shine on those So does it no man elfe. Met'ft thou my pofts? you |