Imatges de pàgina
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So fawcy with the hand of her here, (what's her name
Since the was Cleopatra ?)-whip him, fellows
'Till like a boy you see him cringe his face,
And whine aloud for mercy. Take him hence.
Thyr. Mark Antony

Ant. Tug him away; being whipp'd

Bring him again, this jack of Cafar's fhall

Bear us an errand to him.

[Exeunt with Thyrëus.

You were half blafted ere I knew you: ha! [To Cleopatra.

Have I my pillow left unpreft in Rome,
Forborn the getting of a lawful race,
And by a gem 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 grow 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 Cneus Pompey, befides what hotter hours
Unregiftred in vulgar fame, you have

Luxuriously pickt out. For I am fure,

Though you can guess what temperance should be,
You know not what it is.

Cleo. Wherefore is this?

Ant. To let a fellow that will take rewards,
And fay, God quit you, be familiar with
My play-fellow, your hand; this kingly seal,
And plighter of high hearts!

O that I were

Upon the hill of Bafan, to out-roar

The horned herd, for I have favage caufe ;
And to proclaim it civilly, were like

A halter'd neck, which does the hangman thank

For being yare about him. Is he whipp'd?

Enter a Servant with Thyrëus.

Ser. Soundly, my Lord.

Ant.

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

Ser. He did afk 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, since

Thou haft been whipp'd for following him.
The white hand of a lady feaver thee,

Henceforth

Shake to look on't. Go get thee back to Cæfar,
Tell him thy entertainment: look thou say,
He makes me angry with him: for he seems
Proud and disdainful, 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 fhot their fires
Into the abysm of hell. If he mislike

My fpeech, and what is done, tell him he has
Hipparchus my enfranchis'd bondman, whom
He may at pleafure whip, or hang, or torture,
As he thall like, to quit me. Urge it thou:
Hence with thy ftripes, be gone.

Cleo. Have you done yet?

[Exit Thyr.

Ant. Alack, our terrene moon is now eclips'd, And it portend alone the fall of Antony.

Cleo. I must stay his time.

Ant. To flatter Cæfar, would you mingle eyes With one that ties his points?

Cleo. Not know me yet?

Ant. Cold-hearted toward me ?
Cleo. If I be fo,

From my cold heart let heaven ingender hail,
And poifon't in the fource, and the firft ftone
Drop in my neck; as it determines, fo
Diffolve my life; the next Cefarion fmite!
"Till by degrees the memory of my womb,
Together with my brave Ægyptians all,
By the difcandying of this pelletted storm,
Lye gravelefs; 'till the flies and gnats of Nile
Have buried them for prey.

Ant. I'm fatisfied;

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Cæfar fets down 'fore Alexandria, where
I will oppofe his fate. Our force by land
Hath nobly held; our fever'd navy too
Have knit again, and float, threatning moft fea-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,

and fword will earn my There is hope in it yet.

my chronicle:

Cleo. That's my brave Lord.

Ant. I will be treble-finew'd, hearted, breath'd,
And fight malicioufly: for when mine hours
Were nice and lucky, men did ranfom lives
Of me for jefts; but now I'll fet my teeth,
And fend to darkness all that stop 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.

Antony again, I will be Cleopatra.

Ant. We will yet do well.

But fince my Lord is

Cleo. Call all his noble captains to my Lord.

Ant. Do fo, we'll fpeak to 'em, 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. I fee ftill
A diminution in our captain's brain

Reftores his heart; when valour preys on reafon,
It eats the fword it fights with: I will feek
Some way to leave him.

[Exit.

ACT

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Cæfar's Camp.

Enter Cæsar, with Agrippa, Mecenas, and bis Army.

Caf.

H

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, Cæfar to Antony. Let the old ruffian know, He hath many other ways' to die: mean time I at this challenge laugh.

Mec. Cæfar must 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 best heads

Know that to-morrow the laft of many battels
We mean to fight. Within our files there are,
Of those that ferv'd Mark Antony but late,
Enough to fetch him in. See it be done,
And feast the army; we have ftore to do't,

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

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The Palace in Alexandria.

Enter Antony and Cleopatra, nobarbus, 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's twenty men to one.

Ant. To-morrow, foldier,

By fea 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?
Eno. I'll ftrike, and cry, Take all.

Ant. Well faid, come on:

Call forth my houfhold fervants, let's to-night

Enter

Enter Servants.

Be bounteous at our meal.

Give me thy hand, Thou hast been rightly honeft; so hast thou,

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

Cleo. What means this?

Eno. 'Tis one of thofe odd freaks which forrow shoots Out of the mind.

Ant. And thou art honeft too :

I wish I could be made fo many men,
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 fuffer'd 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. It may chance 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 mafter

Married to your good fervice, ftay 'till death:
Tend me to-night two hours, I afk no more,
And the Gods yield you for't!

no. What mean you, Sir,

To give them this discomfort ? look, they weep.
And I, an afs, 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;

I fpake t'you for your comfort, did defire you

To burn this night with torches: know, my hearts,

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