Imatges de pÓgina

Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy;
To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit
And keep the turn of tippling with a slave;
To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet
With knaves that smell of sweat: say, this becomès

(As his composure must be rare indeed,

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To-morrow, Cæsar,

Whom these things cannot blemish,) yet must An-I shall be furnish'd to inform you rightly

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Most noble Cæsar, shalt thou have report
How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea;
And it appears, he is belov'd of those
That only have fear'd Cæsar to the ports
The discontents4 repair, and men's reports
Give him much wrong'd.

I should have known no less :-
It hath been taught us from the primal state,
That he, which is, was wish'd, until he were;
And the ebb'd man, ne'er lov'd, till ne'er worth love,
Comes dear'd, by being lack'd.5 This common


Like a vagabond flag upon the stream,

Goes to, and back, lackeying the varying tide,
To rot itself with motion.

Cæsar, I bring thee word,
Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates,
Make the sea serve them; which they ears and

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 vessel can peep forth, but 'tis as soon
Taken as seen for Pompey's name strikes more,
Than could his war resisted.



Leave thy lascivious wassals.9 When thou once
Wast beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st
Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel
Did famine follow; whom thou fought'st against,
Though daintily brought up, with patience more
Than savages could suffer: Thou didst drink
The stale10 of horses, and the gilded puddlell
Which beasts would cough at: thy palate then did

The roughest berry on the rudest hedge;
Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets,
The barks of trees thou browsed'st: on the Alps
It is reported, thou didst eat strange flesh,
Which some did die to look on: And all this
(It wounds thine honour, that I speak it now,)
Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek
So much as lank'd not.

(1) Levity. (2) Visit him. (3) Consume. (4) Discontented. (5) Endeared by being missed. (6) Plough. (7) Turn pale.. (8) Ruddy. (9) Feastings: in the old copy it is vaissailes, i. e, vassals.

Both what by sea and land I can be able,
To 'front this present time.

Till which encounter, It is my business too. Farewell.

Lep. Farewell, my lord: What you shall know

mean time

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SCENE V.-Alexandria. A room in the palace. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Mardian.

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Mar. Not in deed, madam; for I can do nothing But what in deed is honest to be done : Yet have I fierce affections, and think, What Venus did with Mars.

O Charmian,
Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he, or
sits he?

Or does he walk? or is he on his horse?
O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony!
Do bravely, horse! for wot'st thou whom thou

The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm
And burgonet15 of men.-He's speaking now,
Or murmuring, Where's my serpent of old Nile?
For so he calls me; Now I feed myself
With most delicious poison :-Think on me,
That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black,
And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Cæsar,
When thou wast here above the ground, I was
A morsel for a monarch: and great Pompey
Would stand, and make his eyes grow in my brow;
There would he anchor his aspect, and die
With looking on his life.

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Cleo. How much unlike art thou Mark Antony Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath With his tinct gilded thee.

How goes it with my brave Mark Antony?
Alex. Last thing he did, dear queen,
He kiss'd,-the last of many doubled kisses,-
This orient pearl;-His speech sticks in my heart.
Cleo. Mine ear must pluck it thence.
Good friend, quoth he,
Say, the firm Roman to great Egypt sends
This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot
To mend the petty present, I will piece
Her opulent throne with kingdoms; All the east.
Say thou, shall call her mistress. So he nodded,
And soberly did mount a termagant! steed,
Who neigh'd so high, that what i would have spoke
Was beastly dumb'd by him.

What, was he sad, or merry?
Alex. Like to the time o'the year between the


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I shall do well:

Pom. The people love me, and the sea is mine; My power's a crescent, and my auguring hope Says, it will come to the full. Mark Antony In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make No wars without doors: Cæsar gets money, where He loses hearts: Lepidus flatters both, Of both is flatter'd ; but he neither loves, Nor either cares for him.

Cæsar and Lepidus
Are in the field; a mighty strength they carry.
Pom. Where have you this? 'tis false.
From Silvius, sir.
Pom. He dreams; I know, they are in Rome to-

Looking for Antony: But all charms of love,
Salt Cleopatra, soften thy wan'd2 lip!
Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both!
Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts,
Keep his brain fuming; Epicurean cooks,
Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite;
That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honour,
Even till3 a Lethed dulness. -How now, Varrius?

Enter Varrius.

Var. This is most certain that I shall deliver: Mark Antony is every hour in Rome Expected; since he went from Egypt, 'tis A space for further travel.


I could have given less matter
A better ear.-Menas, I did not think,
This amorous surfeiter would have don'd4 his helm3
For such a petty war: his soldiership

Is twice the other twain: But let us rear
The higher our opinion, that our stirring
Can from the lap of Egypt's widow pluck
The ne'er lust-wearied Antony.

I cannot hope,
Cæsar and Antony shall well greet together:
His wife, that's dead, did trespasses to Cæsar;
His brother warr'd upon him; although, I think,
Not mov'd by Antony.

Pom. I know not, Menas, How lesser enmities may give way to greater. Were't not that we stand up against them all, 'Twere pregnant they should square between themselves;

For they have entertain'd cause enough
To draw their swords: but how the fear of us
May cement their divisions, and bind up
The petty difference, we yet not know.
Be it as our gods will have it! It only stands
Our lives upon, to use our strongest hands.
Come, Menas.


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Which 'fronted mine own peace. As for my wife,
I would you had her spirit in such another:
The third o'the world is yours; which with a snaffle'
You may pace easy, but not such a wife.

Eno. 'Would we had all such wives, that the men might go to wars with the women!

Ant. So much uncurable, her garboils, Cæsar,
Made out of her impatience (which not wanted
Shrewdness of policy too,) I grieving grant,
Did you too much disquiet: for that, you must
But say, I could not help it.
I wrote to you,
When rioting in Alexandria; you

Did gibe my missive9 out of audience.


That which combin'd us was most great, and let not Did pocket up my letters, and with taunts
A leaner action rend us. What's amiss,
May it be gently heard: When we debate
Our trivial difference loud, we do commit
Murder in healing wounds: Then, noble partners,
(The rather, for I earnestly beseech,)
Touch you the sourest points with sweetest terms,
Nor curstness2 grow to the matter.


He fell upon me, ere admitted: then
Three kings I had newly feasted, and did want
Of what I was i'the morning: but, next day,
I told him of myself; which was as much
As to have ask'd him pardon: Let this fellow
'Tis spoken well:Be nothing of our strife; if we contend,
Out of our question wipe him.

Were we before our armies, and to fight,

I should do thus.

Cas. Welcome to Rome.






Thank you.


Sit, sir!


Ant. I learn, you take things ill, which are not so;
Or, being, concern you not.

I must be laugh'd at,
If, or for nothing, or a little, I
Should say myself offended; and with you
Chiefly i'the world: more laugh'd at, that i should
Once name you derogately, when to sound your


It not concern'd me.
What was't to you?

My being in Egypt, Cæsar,

Caes. No more than my residing here at Rome
Might be to you in Egypt: Yet, if you there
Did practises on my state, your being in Egypt
Might be my question.4

How intend you, practis'd?|
Cas. You may be pleas'd to catch at mine intent,
By what did here befall me. Your wife, and brother,
Made wars upon me; and their contestation
Was theme for you, you were the word of war.
Ant. You do mistake your business; my brother

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You have broken The article of your oath; which you shall never Have tongue to charge me with.


Soft, Cæsar.

Ant. No, Lepidus, let him speak;

The honour's sacred which he talks on now,
Supposing that I lack'd it: But on, Cæsar;
The article of my oath,-

Cas. To lend me arms, and aid, when I requir'd
The which you both denied.
Neglected, rather;
And then, when poison'd hours had bound me up
From mine own knowledge. As nearly as I may,
I'll play the penitent to you: but mine honesty
Shall not make poor my greatness, nor my power
Work without it: Truth is, that Fulvia,
To have me out of Egypt, made wars here;
For which myself, the ignorant motive, do
So far ask pardon, as befits mine honour
To stoop in such a case.
'Tis nobly spoken.
Mac. If it might please you, to enforce no further
The griefs between ye: to forget them quite,
Were to remember that the present need
Speaks to atone12 you.
Worthily spoke, Maecenas.
Eno. Or, if you borrow one another's love for
the instant, you may, when you hear no more
words of Pompey, return it again: you shall have
time to wrangle in, when you have nothing else
to do.

Ant. Thou art a soldier only; speak no more. Eno. That truth should be silent, I had almost forgot.

Ant. You wrong this presence, therefore speak

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Is now a widower.


Say not so, Agrippa;

If Cleopatra heard you, your reproof
Were well deserv'd of rashness.

Ant. I am not married, Cæsar: let me hear
Agrippa further speak.

Agr. To hold you in perpetual amity, To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts With an unslipping knot, take Antony Octavia to his wife: whose beauty claims No worse a husband than the best of men : Whose virtue, and whose general graces, speak That which none else can utter. By this marriage, All little jealousies, which now seem great, And all great fears, which now import their dan

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Not sickness should detain me.

[Flourish. Exeunt Cæs. Ant. and Lep. Mac. Welcome from Egypt, sir.

Eno. Half the heart of Cæsar, worthy Mæcenas! -my honourable friend, Agrippa!Agr. Good Enobarbus!

Mac. We have cause to be glad, that matters are so well digested. You staid well by it in Egypt. Eno. Ay, sir; we did sleep day out of countenance, and made the night light with drinking.

Mac. Eight wild boars roasted whole at a breakfast, and but twelve persons there; Is this true?

Eno. This was but as a fly by an eagle: we had much more monstrous matter of feast, which worthily deserved noting.

Mac. She's a most triumphant lady, if report be square to her.1

Eno. When she first met Mark Antony, she pursed up his heart upon the river of Cydnus. Agr. There she appeared indeed; or my reporter devised well for her.

Eno. I will tell you:

The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water: the poop was beaten gold; Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that

The winds were love-sick with them: the oars were silver;

Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made
The water, which they beat, to follow faster,
As amorous of their strokes. For her own person,
It beggar'd all description: she did lie
In her pavilion (cloth of gold, of tissue,)
O'er-picturing that Venus, where we see
The fancy out-work nature: on each side her,
Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids,
With diverse-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem
To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
And what they undid, did.2

O, rare for Antony!
Eno. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides,
So many mermaids, tended her i'the eyes,
And made their bends adornings: at the helm
A seeming mermaid steers; the silken tackle
Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands,
That yarely frame3 the office. From the barge
A strange invisible pérfume hits the sense
Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast
Her people out upon her; and Antony,
Enthron'd in the market-place, did sit alone,
Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy,
Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too,
And made a gap in nature.

Rare Egyptian!
Eno. Upon her landing, Antony sent to her,
Invited her to supper: she replied,

It should be better, he became her guest;
Which she entreated: Our courteous Antony,
Whom ne'er the word of No woman heard speak,
Being barber'd ten times o'er, goes to the feast;
And, for his ordinary, pays his heart,
For what his eyes eat only.

Royal wench!
She made great Cæsar lay his sword to bed;
He plough'd her, and she cropp'd.


I saw her once Hop forty paces through the public street: And having lost her breath, she spoke, and panted, That she did make defect, perfection,

And, breathless, power breathe forth.

Mac. Now Antony must leave her utterly.
Eno. Never; he will not;

Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale

(3) Readily perform

Her infinite variety: Other women

Cloy th' appetites they feed; but she makes hungry
Where most she satisfies. For vilest things
Become themselves in her; that the holy priests
Bless her, when she's riggish.1

Mac. If beauty, wisdom, modesty, can settle
The heart of Antony, Octavia is

A blessed lottery2 to him.


Let us go.-
Good Enobarbus, make yourself my guest,
Whilst you abide here.

Humbly, sir, I thank you.
SCENE III-The same. A room in Cæsar's
house. Enter Cæsar, Antony, Octavia between
them; Attendants, and a Soothsayer.
Ant. The world, and my great office, will

Divide me from your bosom.


All which time

You must to Parthia; your commission's ready:
Follow me, and receive it.
SCENE IV-The same. A street. Enter Lepi-
dus, Mæcenas, and Agrippa.

Lep. Trouble yourselves no further: pray you,
Your generals after.
Sir, Mark Antony
Will e'en but kiss Octavia, and we'll follow.
Lep. Till I shall see you in your soldier's dress,
Which will become you both, farewell.
We shall,

As I conceive the journey, be at mounts
you, Lepidus.
Your way is shorter,
My purposes do draw me much about;
some-You'll win two days upon me.
Mac. Agr.

Before the gods my knee shall bow my prayers
To them for you.
Good night, sir.-My Octavia,
Read not my blemishes in the world's report:
I have not kept my square; but that to come
Shall all be done by the rule. Good night, dear

Octa. Good night, sir.

Cæs. Good night. [Exeunt Cæsar and Octavia.
Ant. Now, sirrah! you do wish yourself in Egypt?
Sooth. 'Would I had never come from thence,
nor you

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Say to me,

Whose fortunes shall rise higher, Cæsar's, or mine?
Sooth. Cæsar's.

Therefore, O Antony, stay not by his side:
Thy dæmon, that's thy spirit which keeps thee, is
Noble, courageous, high, unmatchable,
Where Cæsar is not; but near him, thy angel
Becomes a Fear, as being o'erpower'd; therefore
Make space enough between you.
Speak this no more.
Sooth. To none but thee; no more, but when to

If thou dost play with him at any game,
Thou art sure to lose; and, of that natural luck,
He beats thee 'gainst the odds; thy lustre thickens,
When he shines by: I say again, thy spirit
Is all afraid to govern thee near him;
But, he away, 'tis noble.

Get thee gone:
Say to Ventidius, I would speak with him:
[Exit Soothsayer.
He shall to Parthia.-Be it art, or hap,
He hath spoken true: The very dice obey him;
And, in our sports, my better cunning faints
Under his chance: if we draw lots, he speeds:
His cocks do win the battle still of mine,
When it is all to nought; and his quails ever
Beat mine, inhoop'd, at odds. I will to Egypt:
And though I make this marriage for my peace,
Enter Ventidíus.

I' the east my pleasure lies:-O, come, Ventidius,

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Lep. Farewell.

Sir, good success!
SCENE V-Alexandria. A room in the palace.
Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas.
Cleo. Give me some music; music, moody food
Of us that trade in love.

The music, ho!

Enter Mardian.

Cleo. Let it alone; let us to billiards: ||Come, Charmian.

Char. My arm is sore, best play with Mardian. Cleo. As well a woman with an eunuch play'd, As with a woman;-Come, you'll play with me, sir? Mar. As well as I can, madam.

Cleo. And when good will is show'd, though it
come too short,

The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now:-
Give me mine angle,-We'll to the river: there,
My music playing far off, I will betray
Tawny-finn'd fishes; my bended hook shall pierce
Their slimy jaws; and, as I draw them up,
I'll think them every one an Antony,
And say, Ah, ha! you're caught.

Twas merry, when
You wager'd on your angling; when your diver
Did hang a salt-fish on his hook, which he
With fervency drew up.

That time!-0 times!-
I laugh'd him out of patience; and that night
I laugh'd him into patience: and next morn,
Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed;
Then put my tires? and mantles on him, whilst
I wore his sword Philippan. O! from Italy;
Enter a Messenger.

Ram thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears,
That long time have been barren.

Cleo. Antony's dead?

Madam, madam,~~

If thou say so, villain, thou kill'st thy mistress:
But well and free,

If thou so yield him, there is gold, and here
My bluest veins to kiss; a hand, that kings
Have lipp'd, and trembled kissing.

First, madam, he's well.
Cleo. Why, there's more gold. But, sirrah,
mark; We use

To say, the dead are well: bring it to that,
The gold I give thee, will I melt, and pour
Down thy ill-uttering throat.

Mess. Good madam, hear me.

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