Antickt us all. What needs more words? good Night, Pom. I'll try you on the Shoar. Ant. And hall, Sir, give's your Hand. Pom. Oh, Antony, you have my Father's House. But what, we are Friends? Come down into the Boat, Eno. Take heed you fall not, Men. I'll not on Shoar, No, to my Cabin-thefe Drums! Thefe Trumpets, Flutes! what! Let Neptune hear, we bid aloud farewel To these great Fellows. Sound and be hang'd, found out. [Sound a Flourish with Drums. Eno. Hoo fays a! there's my Cap. Men. Hoa, noble Captain, come, [Exeunt. ACT III. SCENE I. SCENE A Camp. Enter Ventidius in Triumph, the dead Body of Pacorus born before him, Roman Soldiers and Attendants. Ven, N Pleas'd Fortune does of Marcus Craffus death [OW darting Parthia art thou ftruck, and now Make me revenger. Bear the King's Son's Body Pays this for Marcus Craffus. Rom. Noble Ventidius, Whilft yet with Parthian Blood thy Sword is warm, Mefapotamia, and the shelters, whither The routed fly. So thy grand Captain Antony Ven. Oh Silius, Silius, I have done enough. A lower Place, note well Acquire too high a Fame, when him we ferye's away. More More in their Officer, than Perfon. Sofius, Which he atchiev'd by th' minute, loft his favour. I could do more to do Anthonius good, But 'twould offend him; and in his offence, Rom. Thou haft, Ventidius, that, without the which A Soldier and his Sword grants fcarce diftinction: Thou wilt write to Antony. Ven. I'll humbly fignifie what in his Name, That magical word of War, we have effected, How with his Banners, and his well paid ranks, The ne'er-yet beaten Horfe of Parthia, We have jaded out o'th' Field. Rom. Where is he now? Ven. He purposeth to Athens; whither with what hafte The weight we muft convey with's, will permit: before him. On there, pass along. [Exeunte We shall appear before him. SCENE II. Rome. Enter Agrippa at one Door, Enobarbus at another. Eno. They have dispatcht with Pompey, he is gone, Agr. 'Tis a noble Lepidus. Eno. A very fine one; oh, how he loves Cafar. Eno. Eno. Would you praife Cafar, fay Cafar, go no further. Agr. Indeed he plied them both with excellent praises. Eno. But he loves Cafar beft, yet he loves Antony: Ho! Hearts, Tongues, Figure, Scribes, Bards, Poets, cannot Think, speak, caft, write, fing, number; ho, His love to Antony. But as for Cafar, Kneel down, kneel down, and wonder Eno. They are his Shards, and he their Beetle, fo--- [Trumpets. Agr. Good Fortune worthy Soldier, and farewel. Caf. You take from me a great part of my felf: Ant. Make me not offended In your diftruft. Caf. I have faid. Ant. You fhall not find, Though you be therein curious, the leaft caufe Caf. Farewel, my dearest Sifter, fare thee well, Thy Spirits all of comfort; fare thee well. Ant. The April's in her Eyes, it is loves fpring, Oct. I'll tell you in your Ear. Ant. Ant. Her Tongue will not obey her Heart, nor can Her Heart inform her Tongue, the Swan's Doun-feather, That ftands upon the Swell at full of tide, And neither way inclines. Eno. Will Cafar weep? Agr. He has a Cloud in's Face. Eno. He were the worfe for that were he a Horfe; fo is he being a Man. Agr. Why Enobarbus? When Antony found Julius Cafar dead, He cryed almost to roaring: And he wept, When at Philippi he found Brutus flain. Eno. That Year indeed, he was troubled with a Rheum, What willingly he did confound, he wail'd; Believe't 'till I weep too. Caf. No, fweet Octavia, You shall hear from me ftill; the time fhall not Out-go my thinking on you. Ant. Come Sir, come, I'll wrestle with you in my ftrength of love. Caf. Adieu, be happy. Lep. Let all the number of the Stars give Light To thy fair way. Caf. Farewel, Farewel. Ant. Farewel. SCENE III. Alexandria. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas, Cleo. Where is the Fellow? Alex. Half afeard to come. Cleo. Go to, go to: Come hither, Sir. Enter the Meffenger as before. Alex. Good Majefty, Herod of Jewry dare not look upon you, but when you are well pleas'd. Cleo. That Herod's Head, I'll have; but how? When Antony is gone, through whom I might command it: Come thou near. Mef. Mef. Moft gracious Majefty. Cleo. Didft thou behold Octavia? Mef. Ay, dread Queen. Cleo. Where? Mef. Madam, in Rome, I lookt her in the face: And faw her led between her Brother, and Mark Antony. Cleo. Is the as tall as me? Mef. She is not, Madam. Cleo. Didst hear her speak? is the thrill tongu'd or low ? Cleo. I think fo, Charmian; dull of Tongue, and Dwarfish. Mef. She creeps; Her Motion and her Station are as one: Cleo. Is this certain? Mef. Or I have no observancé. Char. Three in Egypt cannot make better note. There's nothing in her yet. The Fellow has good Judgment. Char. Excellent. Cleo. Guefs at her Years, I prethee. Cleo. Bear'ft thou her Face in Mind? is't long or round? Cleo. For the moft part too, they are foolish that are fo. Her Hair what colour? Mef. Brown, Madam; and her Forehead. As low as he would with it. Cleo. There's Gold for thee. Thou must not take my former Sharpness ill, Moft |