Enter Demetrius and Philo:
Nay, but this dotage of our Generals
Ore-flowes the meaſure: thoſe his goodly eyes
That o're the Files and Muſters of the Warre,
Haue glow'd like plated Mars:
Now bend, now turne
The Office and Deuotion of their view
Vpon a Tawny Front. His Captaines heart,
Which in the ſcuffles of great Fights hath burſt
The Buckles on his breſt, reneages all temper,
And is become the Bellowes and the Fan
To coole a Gypſies Luſt.
Flouriſh. Enter Anthony, Cleopatra her Ladies, the
Traine, with Eunuchs fanning her.
Looke where they come:
Take but good note, and you ſhall ſee in him
(The triple Pillar of the world) transform'd
Into a Strumpets Foole. Behold and ſee.
If it be Loue indeed, tell me how much.
There's beggery in the loue that can be reckon'd
Ile ſet a bourne how farre to be belou'd.
Then muſt thou needes finde out new Heauen,
Enter a Meſſenger.
Newes (my good Lord) from Rome.
Grates me, the ſumme.
Nay heare them Anthony.
Fuluia perchance is angry: Or who knowes,
If the ſcarſe-bearded Cæſar haue not ſent
His powrefull Mandate to you. Do this, or this;
Take in that Kingdome, and Infranchiſe that:
Perform't, or elſe we damne thee.
How, my Loue?
Perchance? Nay, and moſt like:
You muſt not ſtay heere longer, your diſmiſſion
Is come from Cæſar, therefore heare it Anthony.
Where's Fuluias Proceſſe? (Cæſars I would ſay) both?
Call in the Meſſengers: As I am Egypts Queene,
Thou bluſheſt Anthony, and that blood of thine
Is Cæſars homager: elſe ſo thy cheeke payes ſhame,
When ſhrill-tongu'd Fuluia ſcolds. The Meſſengers.
Let Rome in Tyber melt, and the wide Arch
Of the raing'd Empire fall: Heere is my ſpace,
Kingdomes are clay: Our dungie earth alike
Feeds Beaſt as Man; the Nobleneſſe of life
Is to do thus: when ſuch a mutuall paire,
And ſuch a twaine can doo't, in which I binde
One paine of puniſhment, the world to weete
We ſtand vp Peereleſſe.
Why did he marry Fuluia, and not loue her?
Ile ſeeme the Foole I am not. Anthony will be himſelfe.
But ſtirr'd by Cleopatra.
Now for the loue of Loue, and her ſoft houres,
Let's not confound the time with Conference harſh;
There's not a minute of our liues ſhould ſtretch
Without ſome pleaſure now. What ſport to night?
Heare the Ambaſſadors.
Fye wrangling Queene:
Whom euery thing becomes, to chide, to laugh,
To weepe: who euery paſſion fully ſtriues
To make it ſelfe (in Thee) faire, and admir'd.
No Meſſenger but thine, and all alone, to night
Wee'l wander through the ſtreets, and note
The qualities of people. Come my Queene,
Laſt night you did deſire it. Speake not to vs.
Exeunt with the Traine.
Is Cæſar with Anthonius priz'd ſo ſlight?
Sir ſometimes when he is not Anthony,
He comes too ſhort of that great Property
Which ſtill ſhould go with Anthony.
I am full ſorry, that hee approues the common
Lyar, who thus ſpeakes of him at Rome; but I will hope
of better deeds to morrow. Reſt you happy. Exeunt