Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, & Mardian.
Ha, ha, giue me to drinke Mandragoru.
That I might ſleepe out this great gap of time:
My Anthony is away.
You thinke of him too much.
O 'tis Treaſon.
Madam, I truſt not ſo.
Thou, Eunuch Mardian?
What's your Highneſſe pleaſure?
Not now to heare thee ſing. I take no pleaſure
In ought an Eunuch ha's: Tis well for thee,
That being vnſeminar'd, thy freer thoughts
May not flye forth of Egypt. Haſt thou Affections?
Yes gracious Madam.
Not in deed Madam, for I can do nothing
But what in deede is honeſt to be done:
Yet haue I fierce Affections, and thinke
What Venus did with Mars.
Where think'ſt thou he is now? Stands he, or ſits he?
Or does he walke? Or is he on his Horſe?
Oh happy horſe to beare the weight of Anthony!
Do brauely Horſe, for wot'ſt thou whom thou moou'ſt,
The demy Atlas of this Earth, the Arme
And Burganet of men. Hee's ſpeaking now,
Or murmuring, where's my Serpent of old Nyle,
(For ſo he cals me:) Now I feede my ſelfe
With moſt delicious poyſon. Thinke on me
That am with Phœbus amorous pinches blacke,
And wrinkled deepe in time. Broad-fronted Cæſar,
When thou was't heere aboue the ground, I was
A morſell for a Monarke: and great Pompey
Would ſtand and make his eyes grow in my brow,
There would he anchor his Aſpect, and dye
With looking on his life.
Enter Alexas ſrom Cæſar.
Soueraigne of Egypt, haile.
How much vnlike art thou Marke Anthony?
Yet comming from him, that great Med'cine hath
With his Tinct gilded thee.
How goes it with my braue Marke Anthonie?
Laſt thing he did (deere Qu ene)
He kiſt the laſt of many doubled kiſſes
This Orient Pearle. His ſpeech ſtickes in my heart.
Mine eare muſt plucke it thence.
Good Friend, quoth he:
Say the firme Roman to great Egypt ſends
This treaſure of an Oyſter: at whoſe foote
To mend the petty preſent, I will peece
Her opulent Throne, with Kingdomes. All the Eaſt,
(Say thou) ſhall call her Miſtris. So he nodded,
And ſoberly did mount an Arme-gaunt Steede,
Who neigh'd ſo hye, that what I would haue ſpoke,
Was beaſtly dumbe by him.
What was he ſad, or merry?
Like to the time o'th'yeare, between ye extremes
Of hot and cold, he was nor ſad nor merrie.
Oh well diuided diſpoſition: Note him,
Note him good Charmian, 'tis the man; but note him.
He was not ſad, for he would ſhine on thoſe
That make their lookes by his. He was not merrie,
Which ſeem'd to tell them, his remembrance lay
In Egypt with his ioy, but betweene both.
Oh heauenly mingle! Bee'ſt thou ſad, or merrie,
The violence of either thee becomes,
So do's it no mans elſe. Met'ſt thou my Poſts?
I Madam, twenty ſeuerall Meſſengers.
Why do you ſend ſo thicke?
Who's borne that day, when I forget to fend
to Anthonie, ſhall dye a Bėgger. Inke and paper Char-
mian. Welcome my good Alexas. Did I Charmian, e-
uer loue Cæſar ſo?
Oh that braue Cæſar!
Be choak'd with ſuch another Emphaſis,
Say the braue Anthony.
The valiant Cæſar.
By I ſis, I will giue thee bloody teeth,
If thou with Cæſar Parago nagaine:
My man of men.
By your moſt gracious pardon,
I ſing but after you.
My Sallad dayes,
When I was greene in iudgement, cold in blood,
To ſay, as I ſaide then. But come, away,
Get me Inke and Paper,
he ſhall haue euery day a ſeuerall greeting, or Ile vnpeo-
ple Egypt. Exeunt