Equality of two domeftick pow'rs

Breeds fcrupulous faction; the hated, grown to ftrength,
Are newly grown to love; the condemn'd Pompey,
Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace

Into the hearts of fuch, as have not thriven
Upon the prefent ftate, whofe numbers threaten ;
And quietnefs, grown fick of reft, would purge
By any defperate change. My more particular,
And that which most with you should falve my going,
Is Fulvia's death.

Cleo. Though age from folly could not give me freedom, It does from childifhnefs. Can Fulvia die?

Ant. She's dead, my Queen.

Look here, and at thy fovereign leifure read
The garboils fhe awak'd; at the laft, beft.
See when, and where fhe died.

Cleo. O moft falfe love!

Where be the facred vials thou fhou'dft fill
With forrowful water? now I fee, I fee,
In Fulvia's death, how mine fhall be receiv'd.
Ant. Quarrel no more, but be prepar'd to know
The purpofes I bear; which are, or ceafe,

As you
fhall give th' advices: by the fire
That quickens Nilus' flime, I go from hence
Thy foldier, fervant, making peace or war,
As thou affect'ft.

Cleo. Cut my lace, Charmian, come;
But let it be, I'm quickly ill, and well,
So Antony loves.

Ant. My precious Queen, forbear,

And give true evidence to his love, which ftands
An honourable tryal.

Cleo. So Fulvia told me.

I pr'ythee turn afide, and weep for her,
Then bid adieu to me, and fay the tears
Belong to Egypt. Good now, play one scene
Of excellent diffembling, let it look

Like perfect honour,

Ant. You'll heat my blood; no more.

Cleo. You can do better yet; but this is meetly.

Ant.

Ant. Now by my fword

Cleo. And target. Still he mends,

But this is not the beft. Look pr'ythee, 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; fomething it is I would:
Oh, my oblivion is a very Antony,

And I am all forgotten.*

Ant. But that your royalty

Holds idleness your fubject, I should take you
For idleness it felf.

Cleo. 'Tis fweating labour,

To bear fuch idleness fo 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! On your fword
Sit lawrell'd victory, and smooth fuccefs
Be ftrew'd before your feet!

Ant. Let us go: come,

Our feparation fo abides and flies,

That thou refiding here, goeft yet with me,
And I hence fleeting, here remain with thee.
Away.

[Exeunt. SCENE V. Cæfar's Palace in Rome. Enter Octavius Cæfar reading a letter, Lepidus, and

Attendants.

Caf. You may fee, Lepidus, and henceforth know, It is not Cafar's natural vice, to hate

A great competitor. From Alexandria

This is the news; he fishes, drinks, and wastes
The lamps of night in revels; not more manly
Than Cleopatra, nor the Queen of Ptolemy

*All forgotten, is an old way of speaking for, apt to forget every thing.

Y 2

More

More womanly than he; hardly gave audience,
Or did vouchsafe to think that he had partners.
You fhall find there a man, who is the abstract
Of all faults all men follow.

Lep. I muft not think

They're evils enough to darken all his goodness ;
His faults in him feem as the fpots of ermine,
Or fires by night's blackness: hereditary,
Rather than purchaft; what he cannot change,
Than what he chufes.

Caf. You're too indulgent. Let us grant it is not
Amifs to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy,

To give a kingdom for a mirth, to fit

And keep the turn of tipling with a flave,

To reel the streets at noon, and ftand the buffet

With knaves that fmell of fweat; fay this becomes him;

(As his compofure must be rare indeed

Whom these things cannot blemish) yet muft Antony
No way excufe his foils, when we do bear

So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd
His vacancy with his voluptuoufnefs;
Full furfeits, and the drynefs of his bones,
Call on him for't. But to confound fuch time,
That drums him from his fport, and speaks as loud
As his own ftate, and ours; 'tis to be chid,
As we rate boys, who immature in knowledge,
Pawn their experience to their prefent pleasure,
And fo rebel to judgment.

Enter a Meffenger.

Lep. Here's more news.

Mef. Thy biddings have been done; and every hour, Moft noble Cæfar, fhalt thou have report

How 'tis abroad. Pompey is ftrong at fea,

And it appears, he is belov'd of those
That only have fear'd Cæfar: to the ports
The difcontents repair, and mens reports
Give him much wrong'd.

Caf. I fhould 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 'dear'd by being lack'd. The common body,

Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream,

Goes to and back, lacquying the varying tide
To rot it felf with motion.

Mef. Cæfar, I bring thee word,
Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates,

Make the fea ferve them, which they ear and wound
With keels of every kind. Many hot inroads
They make in Italy, the borders maritime

Lack blood to think on't, and flush youth revolt.
No veffel can peep forth, but 'tis as foon
Taken as feen: for Pompey's name strikes more
Than could his war refifted.

Caf. Antony,

Leave thy lafcivious waffails. When thou once
From Mutina wert beaten, where thou flew'st
Hirtius and Panfa confuls, at thy heel

Did famine follow, which thou fought'st against
(Though daintily brought up) with patience more
Than favages could fuffer. Thou didft drink

The ftale of horfes, and the gilded puddle

Which beafts would cough at. Thy palate then did deign

The roughest berry on the rudeft hedge:

Yea, like the ftag, when snow the pasture sheets,
The barks of trees thou browfed'ft. On the Alps,
It is reported thou didst eat ftrange flesh,
Which fome did die to look on; and all this,
(It wounds thine honour that I fpeak it now,)
Was born fo like a foldier, that thy cheek
So much as lank'd not.

Lep. It is pity of him.

Caf. Let his fhames quickly

Drive him to Rome; time is it that we twain
Did fhew our felves i'th' 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 fea and land I can be able,

To front this present time.
Caf. 'Till which encounter,
It is my bufinefs too.

Lep. Farewel, my Lord;

What

you fhall know mean time of ftirs abroad

I fhall befeech you let me be partaker.

Caf. Doubt it not, Sir, I knew it for my bond. Farewel.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI. The Palace in 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, that is treason.

Char. Madam, I trust not fo.

Cleo. Thou eunuch, Mardian!

Mar. What is your Highness' pleasure ?

Cleo. Not now to hear thee fing. I take no pleasure
In ought an eunuch has; 'tis well for thee,
That being unfeminar'd, thy freer thoughts

May not fly forth of Egypt. Haft 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? ftands he, or fits he?

Or does he walk? or is he on his horfe?

Oh happy horse to bear the weight of Antony!

Do bravely, horfe, for wot'ft thou whom thou mov'ft?
The demy Atlas of this earth, the arm

And burgonet of man. He's fpeaking now,

Or murmuring, Where's my ferpent of old Nile?
For fo he calls me; now I feed my felf