Enter Octauius reading a Letter, Lepidus,
and their Traine.
You may ſee Lepidus, and henceforth know,
It is not Cæſars Naturall vice, to hate
One great Competitor. From Alexandria
This is the newes: He fiſhes, drinkes, and waſtes
The Lampes of night in reuell: Is not more manlike
Then Cleopatra: nor the Queene of Ptolomy
More Womanly then he. Hardly gaue audience
Or vouchſafe to thinke he had Partners. You
Shall finde there a man, who is th'abſtracts of all faults,
That all men follow.
I muſt not thinke
There are, euils enow to darken all his goodneſſe:
His faults in him, ſeeme as the Spots of Heauen,
More fierie by nights Blackneſſe; Hereditarie,
Rather then purchaſte: what he cannot change,
Then what he chooſes.
You are too indulgent. Let's graunt it is not
Amiſſe to tumble on the bed of Ptolomy,
To giue a Kingdome for a Mirth, to ſit
And keepe the turne of Tipling with a Slaue,
To reele the ſtreets at noone, and ſtand the Buffet
With knaues that ſmels of ſweate: Say this becoms him
(As his compoſure muſt be rare indeed,
Whom theſe things cannot blemiſh) yet muſt Anthony
No way excuſe his foyles, when we do beare
So great waight in his lightneſſe. If he fill'd
His vacancie with his Voluptuouſneſſe,
Full ſurfets, and the drineſſe of his bones,
Call on him for't. But to confound ſuch time,
That drummes him from his ſport, and ſpeakes as lowd
As his owne State, and ours, 'tis to be chid:
As we rate Boyes, who being mature in knowledge,
Pawne their experience to their preſent pleaſure,
And fo rebell to iudgement.
Enter a Meſſenger.
Heere's more newes.
Thy biddings haue beene done, & euerie houre
Moſt Noble Cæſar, ſhalt thou haue report
How 'tis abroad. Pompey is ſtrong at Sea,
And it appeares, he is belou'd of thoſe
That only haue feard Cæſar: to the Ports
The diſcontents repaire, and mens reports
Giue him much wrong'd.
I ſhould haue knowne no leſſe,
It hath bin taught vs from the primall ſtate
That he which is was wiſht, vntill he were:
And the ebb'd man,
Ne're lou'd, till ne're worth loue,
Comes fear'd, by being lack'd. This common bodie,
Like to a Vagabond Flagge vpon the Streame,
Goes too, and backe, lacking the varrying tyde
To rot it ſelfe with motion.
Cæſar I bring thee word,
Menacrates and Menas famous Pyrates
Makes the Sea ſerue them, which they eare and wound
With keeles of euery kinde. Many hot inrodes
They make in Italy, the Borders Maritime
Lacke blood to thinke on't, and fluſh youth reuolt,
No Veſſell can peepe forth: but 'tis as ſoone
Taken as ſeene: for Pompeyes name ſtrikes more
Then could his Warre reſiſted.
Leaue thy laſciuious Vaſſailes. When thou once
Was beaten from Medena, where thou ſlew'ſt
Hirſius, and Pauſa Conſuls, at thy heele
Did Famine follow, whom thou fought'ſt againſt,
(Though daintily brought vp) with patience more
Then Sauages could ſuffer. Thou did'ſt drinke
The ſtale of Horſes, and the gilded Puddle
Which Beaſts would cough at. Thy pallat th[etilde] did daine
The rougheſt Berry, on the rudeſt Hedge.
Yea, like the Stagge, when Snow the Paſture ſheets,
The barkes of Trees thou brows'd. On the Alpes,
It is reported thou did'ſt eate ſtrange fleſh,
Which ſome did dye to looke on: And all this
(It wounds thine Honor that I ſpeake it now)
Was borne ſo like a Soldiour, that thy cheeke
So much as lank'd not.
'Tis pitty of him.
Let his ſhames quickely
Driue him to Rome, 'tis time we twaine
Did ſhew our ſelues i'th'Field, and to that end
Aſſemble me immediate counſell, Pompey
Thriues in our Idleneſſe.
To morrow Cæſar,
I ſhall be furniſht to informe you rightly
Both what by Sea and Land I can be able
To front this preſent time.
Til which encounter, it is my buſines too. Farwell.
Farwell my Lord, what you ſhal know mean time
Of ſtirres abroad, I ſhall beſeech you Sir
To let me be partaker.
Doubt not fir, I knew it for my Bond. Exeunt