Enter Cæſar, Agrippa, & Mecenas with his Army,
Cæſar reading a Letter.
He calles me Boy, and chides as he had power
To beate me out of Egypt. My Meſſenger
He hath whipt with Rods, dares me to perſonal Combat.
Cæſar to Anthony: let the old Ruffian know,
I haue many other wayes to dye: meane time
Laugh at his Challenge.
Cæſar muſt thinke,
When one ſo great begins to rage, hee's hunted
Euen to falling. Giue him no breath, but now
Make boote of his diſtraction: Neuer anger
Made good guard for it ſelfe.
Let our beſt heads know,
That to morrow, the laſt of many Battailes
We meane to fight. Within our Files there are,
Of thoſe that ſeru'd Marke Anthony but late,
Enough to fetch him in. See it done,
And Feaſt the Army, we haue ſtore to doo't,
And they haue earn'd the waſte. Poore Anthony. Exeunt