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[Scene XIII.]

Enter Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Charmian, & Iras.

What ſhall we do, Enobarbus?

Thinke, and dye.

Is Anthony, or we in fault for this?

Anthony onely, that would make his will
Lord of his Reaſon. What though you fled,
From that great face of Warre, whoſe ſeuerall ranges
Frighted each other? Why ſhould he follow?
The itch of his Affection ſhould not then
Haue nickt his Captain-ſhip, at ſuch a point,
When halfe to halfe the world oppos'd, he being
The meered queſtion? 'Twas a ſhame no leſſe
Then was his loſſe, to courſe your flying Flagges,
And leaue his Nauy gazing.

Prythee peace.
Enter the Ambaſſador, with Anthony.

Is that his anſwer? Amb. I my Lord.

The Queene ſhall then haue courteſie,
So ſhe will yeeld vs vp.

He ſayes ſo.

Let her know't. To the Boy Cæſar ſend this
grizled head, and he will fill thy wiſhes to the brimme,
With Principalities.

That head my Lord?

To him againe, tell him he weares the Roſe
Of youth vpon him: from which, the world ſhould note
Something particular: His Coine, Ships, Legions,
May be a Cowards, whoſe Miniſters would preuaile
Vnder the ſeruice of a Childe, as ſoone
As i'th'Command of Cæſar. I dare him therefore
To lay his gay Compariſons a-part,
And anſwer me declin'd, Sword againſt Sword,
Our ſelues alone: Ile write it: Follow me.

Yes like enough: hye battel'd Cæſar will
Vnſtate his happineſſe, and be Stag'd to'th'ſhew
Againſt a Sworder. I ſee mens Iudgements are
A parcell of their Fortunes, and things outward
Do draw the inward quality after them
To ſuffer all alike, that he ſhould dreame,
Knowing all meaſures, the full Cæſar will
Anſwer his emptineſſe; Cæſar thou haſt ſubdu'de
His iudgement too.
Enter a Seruant.

A Meſſenger from Cæſar.

What no more Ceremony? See my Women,
Againſt the blowne Roſe may they ſtop their noſe,
That kneel'd vnto the Buds. Admit him ſir.

Mine honeſty, and I, beginne to ſquare,
The Loyalty well held to Fooles, does make
Our Faith meere folly: yet he that can endure
To follow with Allegeance a falne Lord,
Does conquer him that did his Maſter conquer,
And earnes a place i'th'Story.
Enter Thidias.

Cæſars will.

Heare it apart.

None but Friends: ſay boldly.

So haply are they Friends to Anthony.

He needs as many (Sir) as Cæſar ha's,
Or needs not vs. If Cæſar pleaſe, our Maſter
Will leape to be his Friend: For vs you know,
Whoſe he is, we are, and that is Cæſars.

So. Thus then thou moſt renown'd, Cæſar intreats,
Not to conſider in what caſe thou ſtand'ſt
Further then he is Cæſars.

Go on, right Royall.

He knowes that you embrace not Anthony
As you did loue, but as you feared him.


The ſcarre's vpon your Honor, therefore he
Does pitty, as conſtrained blemiſhes,
Not as deſerued.

He is a God,
And knowes what is moſt right. Mine Honour
Was not yeelded, but conquer'd meerely.

To be ſure of that, I will aske Anthony.|
Sir, ſir, thou art ſo leakie
That we muſt leaue thee to thy ſinking, for
Thy deereſt quit thee. Exit Enob.

Shall I ſay to Cæſar,
What you require of him: for he partly begges
To be deſir'd to giue. It much would pleaſe him,
That of his Fortunes you ſhould make a ſtaffe
To leane vpon. But it would warme his ſpirits
To heare from me you had left Anthony,
And put your ſelfe vnder his ſhrowd, the vniuerſal Land-

What's your name? (lord.

My name is Thidias.

Moſt kinde Meſſenger,
Say to great Cæſar this in diſputation,
I kiſſe his conqu'ring hand: Tell him, I am prompt
To lay my Crowne at's feete, and there to kneele.
Tell him, from his all-obeying breath, I heare
The doome of Egypt.

'Tis your Nobleſt courſe:
Wiſedome and Fortune combatting together,
If that the former dare but what it can,
No chance may ſhake it. Giue me grace to lay
My dutie on your hand.

Your Cæſars Father oft,
(When he hath mus'd of taking kingdomes in)
Beſtow'd his lips on that vnworthy place,
As it rain'd kiſſes.
Enter Anthony and Enobarbus.

Fauours? By Ioue that thunders. What art thou

One that but performes (Fellow?
The bidding of the fulleſt man, and worthieſt
To haue command obey'd.

You will be whipt.

Approch there: ah you Kite. Now Gods & diuels
Authority melts from me of late. When I cried hoa,
Like Boyes vnto a muſſe, Kings would ſtart forth,
And cry, your will. Haue you no eares?
I am Anthony yet. Take hence this Iack, and whip him.
Enter a Seruant.

'Tis better playing with a Lions whelpe,
Then with an old one dying.

Moone and Starres,
Whip him: wer't twenty of the greateſt Tributaries
That do acknowledge Cæſar, ſhould I finde them
So ſawcy with the hand of ſhe heere, what's her name
Since ſhe was Cleopatra? Whip him Fellowes,
Till like a Boy you ſee him crindge his face,
And whine aloud for mercy. Take him hence.

Marke Anthony.

Tugge him away: being whipt
Bring him againe, the Iacke of Cæſars ſhall
Beare vs an arrant to him. Exeunt with Thidius.
You were halfe blaſted ere I knew you: Ha?
Haue I my pillow left vnpreſt in Rome,
Forborne the getting of a lawfull Race,
And by a Iem of women, to be abus'd
By one that lookes on Feeders?

Good my Lord.

You haue beene a boggeler euer,
But when we in our viciouſneſſe grow hard
(Oh miſery on't) the wiſe Gods ſeele our eyes
In our owne filth, drop our cleare iudgements, make vs
Adore our errors, laugh at's while we ſtrut
To our confuſion.

Oh, is't come to this?

I found you as a Morſell, cold vpon
Dead Cæſars Trencher: Nay, you were a Fragment
Of Gneius Pompeyes, beſides what hotter houres
Vnregiſtred in vulgar Fame, you haue
Luxuriouſly pickt out. For I am ſure,
Though you can gueſſe what Temperance ſhould be,
You know not what it is.

Wherefore is this?

To let a Fellow that will take rewards,
And ſay, God quit you, be familiar with
My play-fellow, your hand; this Kingly Seale,
And plighter of high hearts. O that I were
Vpon the hill of Baſan, to out-roare
The horned Heard, for I haue ſauage cauſe,
And to proclaime it ciuilly, were like
A halter'd necke, which do's the Hangman thanke,
For being yare about him. Is he whipt?
Enter a Seruant with Thidias.

Soundly, my Lord.

Cried he? and begg'd a Pardon?

He did aske fauour.

If that thy Father liue, let him repent
Thou was't not made his daughter, and be thou ſorrie
To follow Cæſar in his Triumph, ſince
Thou haſt bin whipt. For following him, henceforth
The white hand of a Lady Feauer thee,
Shake thou to looke on't. Get thee backe to Cæſar,
Tell him thy entertainment: looke thou ſay
He makes me angry with him. For he ſeemes
Proud and diſdainfull, harping on what I am,
Not what he knew I was. He makes me angry,
And at this time moſt eaſie 'tis to doo't:
When my good Starres, that were my former guides
Haue empty left their Orbes, and ſhot their Fires
Into th'Abiſme of hell. If he miſlike,
My ſpeech, and what is done, tell him he has
Hiparchus, my enfranched Bondman, whom
He may at pleaſure whip, or hang, or torture,
As he ſhall like to quit me. Vrge it thou:
Hence with thy ſtripes, be gone. Exit Thid.

Haue you done yet?

Alacke our Terrene Moone is now Eclipſt,
And it portends alone the fall of Anthony.

I muſt ſtay his time?

To flatter Cæſar, would you mingle eyes
With one that tyes his points.

Not know me yet?

Cold-hearted toward me?

Ah (Deere) if I be ſo,
From my cold heart let Heauen ingender haile,
And poyſon it in the ſourſe, and the firſt ſtone
Drop in my necke: as it determines ſo
Diſſolue my life, the next Cæſarian ſmile,
Till by degrees the memory of my wombe,
Together with my braue Egyptians all,
By the diſcandering of this pelleted ſtorme,
Lye graueleſſe, till the Flies and Gnats of Nyle
Haue buried them for prey.

I am ſatisfied:
Cæſar ſets downe in Alexandria, where
I will oppoſe his Fate. Our force by Land,
Hath Nobly held, our ſeuer'd Nauie too
Haue knit againe, and Fleete, threatning moſt Sea-like.
Where haſt thou bin my heart? Doſt thou heare Lady?
If from the Field I ſhall returne once more
To kiſſe theſe Lips, I will appeare in Blood,
I, and my Sword, will earne our Chronicle,
There's hope in't yet.

That's my braue Lord.

I will be trebble-ſinewed, hearted, breath'd,
And fight maliciouſly: for when mine houres
Were nice and lucky, men did ranſome liues
Of me for ieſts: But now, Ile ſet my teeth,
And ſend to darkeneſſe all that ſtop me. Come,
Let's haue one other gawdy night: Call to me
All my ſad Captaines, fill our Bowles once more:
Let's mocke the midnight Bell.

It is my Birth-day,
I had thought t'haue held it poore. But ſince my Lord
Is Anthony againe, I will be Cleopatra.

We will yet do well.

Call all his Noble Captaines to my Lord.

Do ſo, wee'l ſpeake to them,
And to night Ile force
The Wine peepe through their ſcarres.
Come on (my Queene)
There's ſap in't yet. The next time I do fight
Ile make death loue me: for I will contend
Euen with his peſtilent Sythe. Exeunt.

Now hee'l out-ſtare the Lightning, to be furious
Is to be frighted out of feare, and in that moode
The Doue will pecke the Eſtridge; and I ſee ſtill
A diminution in our Captaines braine,
Reſtores his heart; when valour prayes in reaſon,
It eates the Sword it fights with: I will ſeeke
Some way to leaue him. Exeunt.

load focus Notes (Horace Howard Furness, 1907)
load focus Notes (Horace Howard Furness, 1907)
load focus English (W. G. Clark, W. Aldis Wright)
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