Ant. Approach there---ah you Kite! Now gods and devils! Authority melts from me of late. When I cry'd hoa! Like Boys unto a mufs, Kings would start forth, And cry your will. Have you no Ears?

I am Antony yet. Take hence this Jack and whip him.

Enter a Servant.

Eno. 'Tis better playing with a Lion's Whelp, Than with an old one dying.

Ant. Moon and Stars!

Whip him were twenty of the greateft tributaries
That do acknowledge Cafar, fhould I find them
So fawcy with the hand of the here, what's her Name
Since the was Cleopatra-Whip him, Fellows
'Till like a Boy you fee him crindge his Face,
And whine aloud for mercy. Take him hence.
Thid. Mark Antony

Ant. Tug him away; being whipts
Bring him again, the Jack of Cafar's fhall
Bear us an Errand to him.

[Exeunt with Thidias

You were half blafted e'er I knew you: Ha!
Have I my Pillow left unpreft in Rome,
Forborn the getting of a lawful Race,
And by a Jem of Women, to be abus'd
By one that looks on Feeders?
Cleo. Good, my Lord-

Ant. You have been a Boggler ever,
But when we in our vicioufnefs grew hard,
Oh mifery on't, the wife gods feal our Eyes
In our own filth, drop our clear judgments, make us
Adore our errors, laugh at's while we strut
To our confufion.

Cleo. Oh, is't come to this?

Ant. I found you as a Morfel, cold upon
Dead Cafar's Trencher: Nay, you were a Fragment
Of Cneius Pompey's, befides what hotter hours
Unregiftred in vulgar Fame, you have

Luxuriously pickt out. For I am fure,

Though you can guef's what Temperance fhould be,
You know not what it is.

Cleo. Wherefore is this?

Ant. To let a Fellow that will take rewards,

And

And fay, God quit you, be familiar with

My Play-fellow, your hand; this Kingly Seal,
And plighter of high Hearts!

Upon the Hill of Bafan, to out-roar

O that I were

The horned Herd, for I have Savage caufe,
And to proclaim it civilly, were like

A halter'd Neck, which do's the Hangman thank,
For being yare about him. Is he whip'd?
Enter a Servant with Thidias.

Ser. Soundly, my Lord.

Ant. Cry'd he? and begg'd a pardon?

Ser. He did ask favour.

Ant. If that thy Father live, let him repent Thou waft not made his Daughter; and be thou forry To follow Cafar in his triumph, fince

Thou haft been whipp'd, for following him. Henceforth
The white Hand of a Lady Fever thee,

Shake to look on't. Go get thee back to Cafar,
Tell him thy entertainment: look thou fay
He makes me angry with him. For he seems
Proud and difdainful, harping on what I am,
Not what he knew I was. He makes me angry,
And at this time moft eafie 'tis to do't:

When my good Stars, that were my former guides
Have empty left their Orbs, and shot their Fires,
Into the Abifm of Hell. If he miflike
My Speech, and what is done, tell him he has
Hiparchus, my enfranched Bondman, whom
He may at pleasure whip, or hang,, or torture,
As he fhall like to quit me. Urge it thou:
Hence with thy ftripes, be gone

Cleo. Have you done yet?

[Exit Thid.

Ant. Alack, our Terrene Moon is now Eclips'd, And it portends alone the fall of Antony.

Cleo. I muft ftay his time.

Ant. To flatter Cafar, would you mingle Eyes

With one that ties his points?

Cleo. Not know me yet?

Ant. Cold-hearted toward me?

Cleo. Ah, Dear, if I be fo,

From my cold Heart, let Heav'n ingender Hail,

VOL. VI.

E

And

And Poifon it in the fource, and the first Stone
Drop in my Neck; as it determines, fo.
Diffolve my Life; the next Cafario fmite,
'Till by degrees the memory of my Womb,
Together with my brave Ægyptians all,
By the difcattering of this pelletted ftorm,
Lie Gravelefs, 'till the Flies and Gnats of Nile
Have buried them for prey.

Ant. I am fatisfied:

Cafar fets down in Alexandria, where

I will oppofe his Fate. Our Force by Land,

Hath nobly held, and fever'd Navy too

`

Have knit again, and Float, threatning moft Sea-like.
Where haft thou been my Heart? Doft thou hear, Lady?
If from the Field I fhall return once more

To kifs thefe Lips, I will appear in Blood,
I, and my Sword, will earn my Chronicle,
There's hope in't yet.

Cleo. That's my brave Lord.

Ant. I will be treble-finewed, hearted, breath'd,
And fight malicioufly: for when mine hours.
Were nice and lucky, Men did ranfome Lives
Of me for Jefts; but now, I'll fet my Teeth,
And fend to darkness all that flop, me.

Come,
Let's have one other gawdy Night: Call to me
All my fad Captains, fill our Bowls; once more
Let's mock the Midnight Bell.

Cleo. It is my Birth-day,

I had thought t'have held it poor. But fince my Lord Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra.

Ant. We will yet do well.

Cleo. Call all his noble Captains to my Lord.

Ant. Do fo, we'll fpeak to them, and to Night I'll force The Wine peep through their Scars. Come on, my Queen There's fap in't yet. The next time I do fight

I'll make Death love me: for I will contend
Even with his Peftilent Scythe.'

[Exeunt.

Eno. Now he'll out-ftare the Lightning, to be furious
Is to be frighted out of fear, and in that mood
The Dove will peck the Eftridge; and I fee ftill
A diminution in our Captain's Brain,

Reftores

Reftores his Heart; when Valour preys on Reafon,

It eats the Sword it fights with: I will feek
Some way to leave him.

Caf.

A C T IV. SCENE I.

SCENE

Cæfar's Camp.

[Exit.

Enter Cæfar, Agrippa, and Mecenas with his Army,

HE

Cæfar reading a Letter.

E calls me Boy, and chides as he had power
To beat me out of Egypt. My Meffenger
He hath whipt with Rods, dares me to Perfonal Combat,
Cafar to Antony. Let the old Ruffian know,

I have many other ways to die: mean time
Laugh at this Challenge.

Mec. Cafar muft think,

When one fo great begins to rage, he's hunted
Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now
Make boot of his diftraction: Never anger

Made good guard for it self.

Caf. Let our beft Heads know,

That to morrow, the laft of many Battels
We mean to fight. Within our Files there are,
Of thofe that ferv'd Mark Antony but late,
Enough to fetch him in. See it done,

And feaft the Army, we have ftore to do't,

And they have earn'd the wafte. Poor Antony! [Exeunt. SCENE II. Alexandria.

Enter Antony and Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Charmian, Iras, Alexas, with others.

Ant. He will not fight with me, Domitius.

Eno. No?

Ant. Why fhould he not?

Eno. He thinks, being twenty times of better Fortune,

He is twenty Men to one.

Ant. To morrow, Soldier,

By Sea and Land I'll fight: or I will live,

Or bathe my dying Honour in the Blood,

Shall make it live again. Woo't thou fight well.

E 2

Eno.

Eno. I'll ftrike, and cry, take all.

Ant. Well faid, come on:

Call forth my Houfhold Servants, let's to Night;

Enter Servants.

Be bounteous at our Meal. Give me thy hand,
Thou haft been rightly honeft, fo haft thou,

And thou, and thou, and thou: you have ferv'd me well, And Kings have been your Fellows.

Cleo. What means this?

Eno. Tis one of thofe odd tricks which forrow fhoots Out of the Mind.

Men,

Ant. And thou art honeft too:
I wish I could be made fo many
And all of you clapt up together, in

An Antony that I might do you fervice,
So good as you have done.

Omnes. The gods forbid !

Ant. Well, my good Fellows, wait on me to Night; Scant not my Cups, and make as much of me

As when mine Empire was your Fellow too,

And fuffered my command.

Cleo. What does he mean?

Eno. To make his followers weep.
Ant. Tend me to Night;

May be it is the period of your duty,
Haply you fhall not fee me more, or if,
A mangled fhadow. Perchance to morrow,
You'll ferve another Mafter. I look on you,
As one that takes his leave.

Mine honeft Friends,

I turn you not away, but like a Master
Married to your good Servive, ftay till Death:
Tend me to Night two Hours, I ask no more,
And the gods yield you for't.

Eno. What mean you, Sir,

To give them this difcomfort?

Look, you weep,

And I, an Aís, am Onion-ey'd; for fhame,

Transform us not to Women.

Ant. Ho, ho, ho :

Now the Witch take me, if I meant it thus.

Grace grow where thofe drops fall, my hearty Friends,

You take me in too dolorous a fense;

For