Ant. You'll heat my blood: no more. Cleo. You can do better yet; but this is meetly. Ant. Now, by my sword, And target. Still he mends; Cleo. The carriage of his chafe. Ant. I'll leave you, lady. Sir, you and I must part,-but that's not it: And I am all forgotten. Ant. But that your royalty Holds idleness your subject, I should take you Cleo. 'Tis sweating labour To bear such idleness so near the heart And all the gods go with you! upon your sword Be strew'd before your feet! Ant. Let us go. Come; That thou, residing here, go'st yet with me, [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-ROME. An Apartment in CÆSAR'S House. Enter OCTAVIUS CÆSAR, LEPIDUS, and Attendants. Cæs. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know, It is not Cæsar's natural vice to hate Our great competitor. From Alexandria This is the news:-he fishes, drinks, and wastes More womanly than he: hardly gave audience, or Vouchsaf'd to think he had partners: you shall find there A man who is the abstract of all faults That all men follow. Lep. I must not think there are Cœes. You are too indulgent. Let us grant it is not 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 becomes him,As his composure must be rare indeed Whom these things cannot blemish,--yet must Antony No way excuse his soils when we do bear So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd His vacancy with his voluptuousness, Full surfeits and the dryness of his bones Call on him for't: but to confound such time, That drums him from his sport, and speaks as loud As his own state and ours,-'tis to be chid As we rate boys, who, being mature in knowledge, Lep. Enter a Messenger. Here's more news. Mes. Thy biddings have been done; and every hour, 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 Cæs. I should have known no less: That he which is was wish'd until he were ; And the ebb'd man, ne'er lov'd till ne'er worth love, Goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide, To rot itself with motion. Mess. Cæsar, I bring thee word, Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates, Make the sea serve them, which they ear and wound They make in Italy; the borders maritime Taken as seen; for Pompey's name strikes more Antony, Cæs. Did famine follow; whom thou fought'st against, Which beasts would cough at: thy palate then did deign Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets, Lep. 'Tis pity of him. Cas. Let his shames quickly Drive him to Rome: 'tis time we twain - Did show ourselves i' the field; and to that end Thrives in our idleness. Lep. Cœs. Till which encounter It is my business too. Farewell. Lep. Farewell, my lord: what you shall know meantime Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir, To let me be partaker. Cæs. I knew it for my bond. Doubt not, sir; SCENE V.-ALEXANDRIA. [Exeunt. A Room in the Palace. Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAs, and MARDIAN. Cleo. Charmian,— Char. Madam? Why, madam? Cleo. That I might sleep out this great gap of time My Antony is away. Char. You think of him too much. Cleo. O, 'tis treason! Madam, I trust, not so. Cleo. Thou, eunuch Mardian! Mar. What's your highness' pleasure? Cleo. Not now to hear thee sing; I take no pleasure In aught an eunuch has: 'tis well for thee That, being unseminar'd, thy freer thoughts May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou affections? Cleo. Indeed! Mar. Not in deed, madam; for I can do nothing But what indeed is honest to be done: Yet have I fierce affections, and think What Venus did with Mars. Cleo. 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 wott'st thou whom thou mov'st? The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm And burgonet 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, And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Cæsar, Alex. Enter ALEXAS. Sovereign of Egypt, hail! 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,— Good friend, quoth he, Alex. Who neigh'd so high that what I would have spoke Cleo. What, was he sad or merry? Alex. Like to the time o' the year between the extremes Of hot and cold, he was nor sad nor merry. Cleo. O well-divided disposition!-Note him, Note him, good Charmian, 'tis the man; but note him: That make their looks by his; he was not merry, Which seem'd to tell them his remembrance lay O heavenly mingle!-Be'st thou sad or merry, So does it no man else.-Mett'st thou my posts? Cleo. Who's born that day Shall die a beggar.-Ink and paper, Charmian.— Char. O that brave Cæsar! The valiant Cæsar! Cleo. Be chok'd with such another emphasis! Say, the brave Antony. Char. Cleo. By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth If thou with Cæsar paragon again My man of men. Char. By your most gracious pardon, I sing but after you. My salad days, Cleo. [Exeunt. |