Eno. Why, then, we kill all our women: We see how mortal an unkindness is to them; if they suffer our departure, death's the word. Ant. I must be gone.

Eno. Under a compelling occasion, let women die It were pity to cast them away for nothing; though, between them and a great cause, they should be esteemed nothing. Cleopatra, catching but the least noise of this, dies instantly; I have seen her die twenty times upon far poorer moment: I do think, there is mettle in death, which commits some loving act upon her, she hath such celerity in dying.

Ant. She is cunning past man's thought. Eno. Alack, sir, no; her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love: We cannot call her winds and waters, sighs and tears; they are greater storms and tempests than almanacks can report: This cannot be cunning | in her; if it be, she makes a shower of rain as well as Jove.

Ant. 'Would I had never seen her!

Eno. O, sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece of work; which not to have been blessed withal, would have discredited your travel.

Ant. Fulvia is dead.

Eno. Sir?

Ant. Fulvia is dead. Eno. Fulvia?

Ant. Dead.

Eno. Why, sir, give the gods a thankful sacrifice. When it pleaseth their deities to take the wife of a man from him, it shows to man the tailors of the earth; comforting therein, that when old robes are worn out, there are members to make new. If there were no more women but Fulvia, then had you indeed a cut, and the case to be lamented: this grief is crowned with consolation; your old smock brings forth a new petticoat: and, indeed, the tears live in an onion, that should water this sorrow. Ant. The business she hath broached in the state,

Cannot endure my absence.

Eno. And the business you have broached here cannot be without you; especially that of Cleopatra's, which wholly depends on your abode. Aut. No more light answers. Let our officers Have notice what we purpose. I shall break The cause of our expedience to the queen, And get her love to part. For not alone The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches, Do strongly speak to us; but the letters too Of many our contriving friends in Rome Petition us at home: Sextus Pompeius Hath given the dare to Cæsar, and commands The empire of the sea: our slippery people (Whose love is never link'd to the deserver, Till his deserts are past,) begin to throw Pompey the great, and all his dignities, Upon his son; who, high in name and power, Higher than both in blood and life, stands up

For the main soldier; whose quality, going on, The sides o'the world may danger: Much is breeding,

Which, like the courser's hair, hath yet but life,
And not a serpent's poison. Say our pleasure,
To such whose place is under us, requires
Our quick remove from hence.
Eno. I shall do't.

I

SCENE III.

[Exeunt.

Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAs, and ALEXAS.

Cleo. Where is he?

Char. I did not see him since.

Cleo. See where he is, who's with him, what

he does :

did not send you ;-If you find him sad, Say, I am dancing; if in mirth, report That I am sudden sick: Quick, and return. [Exit Alexas.

Char. Madam, methinks, if you did love him dearly,

You do not hold the method to enforce
The like from him.

Cleo. What should I do, I do not?
Char. In each thing give him way, cross him
in nothing.

Cleo. Thou teachest like a fool; the way to lose him.

Char. Tempt him not so too far: I wish, forbear;

In time we hate that which we often fear.
Enter ANTONY.

But here comes Antony.

Cleo. I am sick, and sullen.

Ant. I am sorry to give breathing to my pur

Cleo. Nay, pray you, seek no colour for your going,

But bid farewell, and go: when you sued staying,
Then was the time for words: No going then;-
Eternity was in our lips, and eyes;

Bliss in our brows' bent; none our parts so poor,
But was a race of heaven: They are so still,
Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world,
Art turn'd the greatest liar.

Ant. How now, lady!

Cleo. You can do better yet; but this is meetly.

Ant. Now, by my sword,

Cleo. And target,-Still he mends; But this is not the best: Look, pr'ythee, Charmian,

How this Herculean Roman does become
The carriage of his chafe.

Ant. I'll leave you, lady.

Cleo. Courteous lord, one word.

know,

There were a heart in Egypt.

Ant. Hear me, queen:

The strong necessity of time commands
Our services a-while; but my full heart
Remains in use with you. Our Italy
Shines o'er with civil swords: Sextus Pompeius
Makes his approaches to the port of Rome;
Equality of two domestic powers

Breeds scrupulous faction: The hated, grown to strength,

Are newly grown to love: The condemn'd Pom

Where be the sacred vials thou should'st fill
With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see,
In Fulvia's death, how mine receiv'd shall be.
Ant. Quarrel no more, but be prepar'd to know
The purposes I bear; which are, or cease,
As you shall give the advice: Now, by the fire,
That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence,
Thy soldier, servant; making peace, or war,
As thou affect'st.

Cleo. Cut my lace, Charmian, come ;-
But let it be. I am quickly ill, and well:
So Antony loves.

Ant. My precious queen, forbear;

Sir, you and I have lov'd,-but there's not it;
That you know well: Something it is I would,—
O, my oblivion is a very Antony,
And I am all forgotten.

Ant. But that your royalty

Holds idleness your subject, I should take you For idleness itself.

Cleo. 'Tis sweating labour,

To bear such idleness so near the heart
As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me;
Since my becomings kill me, when they do not
Eye well to you: Your honour calls you hence ;
Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly,
And all the gods go with you! upon your sword
Sit laurel'd victory! and smooth success
Be strew'd before your feet!

Ant. Let us go. Come;
Our separation so abides, and flies,
That thou, residing here, go'st yet with me,
And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee.
Away.
[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-Rome. An apartment in Cæsar's house.

Enter OCTAVIUS CÆSAR, LEPIDUS, and
Attendants.

Cas. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know,

It is not Cæsar's natural vice to hate
One great competitor: From Alexandria
This is the news; He fishes, drinks, and wastes
The lamps of night in revel: is not more man-
like

Than Cleopatra; nor the queen of Ptolemy
More womanly than he hardly gave audience, or
Vouchsaf'd to think he had partners: You shall
find there

A man, who is the abstract of all faults
That all men follow.

Lep. I must not think, there are
Evils enough to darken all his goodness:

An honourable trial.

Cleo. So Fulvia told me.

I pr'ythee turn aside, and weep for her; Then bid adieu to me, and say, the tears Belong to Egypt: Good now, play one scene Of excellent dissembling; and let it look Like perfect honour.

Ant. You'll heat my blood; no more.

More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary, Rather than purchas'd; what he cannot change. Than what he chooses.

Cas. You are too indulgent: Let us grant,

it is not

Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy;
To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit
And keep the turn of tippling with a slave;

6

To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet With knaves, that smell of sweat: say, this becomes him,

(As his composure must be rare indeed,
Whom these things cannot blemish,) yet must
Antony

No way excuse his soils, when we do bear
So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd
His vacancy with his voluptuousness,
Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones,
Call on him for't: but, to confound such time,
That drums him from his sport, and speaks as
loud

As his own state, and ours,-'tis to be chid
As we rate boys; who, being mature in know-
ledge,

Pawn their experience to their present pleasure, And so rebel to judgment.

Enter a Messenger.

Lep. Here's more news.

Which some did die to look on: And all this
(It wounds thine honour, that I speak it now,)
Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek
So much as lank'd not.

Lep, It is pity of him.

Cas. Let his shames quickly

Drive him to Rome: 'Tis time we twain
Did show ourselves i'the field; and, to that end,
Assemble we immediate council: Pompey
Thrives in our idleness.

Lep. To-morrow, Cæsar,

I shall be furnish'd to inform you rightly
Both what by sea and land I can be able,
To 'front this present time.

Cas. Till which encounter,

It is my business too. Farewell.

Lep. Farewell, my lord: What you shall know mean time

Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir,
To let me be partaker.

Caes. Doubt not, sir;

every hour,

Most noble Cæsar, shalt thou have report
How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea;
And it appears, he is belov'd of those

That only have fear'd Cæsar: to the ports
The discontents repair, and men's reports
Give him much wrong'd.

Cæs. I should have known no less:-
It hath been taught us from the primal state,
That he, which is, was wish'd, until he were;
And the ebb'd man, ne'er lov'd, till ne'er worth
love,

Comes dear'd, by being lack'd. This common

body,

Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream,
Goes to, and back, lackeying the varying tide,
To rot itself with motion.

Mess. Cæsar, I bring thee word,
Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates,

Make the sea serve them; which they ear and wound

With keels of every kind: Many hot inroads
They make in Italy; the borders maritime
Lack blood to think on't, and flush youth revolt:
No vessel can peep forth, but 'tis as soon
Taken as seen; for Pompey's name strikes more,
Than could his war resisted.

Cas. Antony,

Leave thy lascivious wassals. When thou once Wast beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel

Did famine follow; whom thou fought'st against,
Though daintily brought up, with patience more
Than savages could suffer: Thou didst drink
The stale of horses, and the gilded puddle
Which beasts would cough at: thy palate then
did deign

The roughest berry on the rudest hedge;
Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets,
The barks of trees thou browsed'st; on the Alps,
It is reported, thou didst eat strange flesh,
VOL. II.

[Exeunt.

With most delicious poison :-Think on me, That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black, And wrinkled deepin time? Broad-fronted Cæsar, When thou wast here above the ground, I was A morsel for a monarch: and great Pompey Would stand, and make his eyes grow in my brow; There would he anchor his aspect, and die With looking on his life.

Enter ALEXAS.

Alex. Sovereign of Egypt, hail!

Cleo. How much unlike art thou Mark Antony! Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath With his tinct gilded thee.

How goes it with my brave Mark Antony?
Alex. Last thing he did, dear queen,
He kiss'd, the last of many doubled kisses,-
This orient pearl;-His speech sticks in my heart.
Cleo. Mine ear must pluck it thence.
Alex. Good friend, quoth he,
Say, the firm Roman to great Egypt sends
This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot,
To mend the petty present, I will piece
Her opulent throne with kingdoms; All the east,
Say thou, shall call her mistress. So he nodded,
And soberly did mount a termagant steed,
Whoneigh'd so high, that what I would have spoke
Was beastly dumb'd by him.

Cleo. What, was he sad, or merry?
Alex. Like to the time o'the year between the

extremes

Of hot and cold; he was nor sad, nor merry.

Cleo. O well-divided 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 looks by his: he was not merry;
Which seem'd to tell them his remembrance lay
In Egypt with his joy: but between both:
O heavenly mingle!-Be'st thou sad, or merry,
The violence of either thee becomes;
So does it no man else.-Met'st thou my posts?
Alex. Ay, madam, twenty several messengers:
Why do you send so thick?

Cleo. Who's born that day
When I forget to send to Antony,

Shall die a beggar.-Ink and paper, Charmian.Welcome, my good Alexas.-Did I, Charmian, Ever love Cæsar so?

Char. O that brave Cæsar!

Cleo. Be chok'd with such another emphasis! Say, the brave Antony.

Char. The valiant Cæsar!

Cleo. By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth, If thou with Cæsar paragon again My man of men.

Char. By your most gracious pardon, I sing but after you.

Cleo. My sallad days;

When I was green in judgment:-Cold in blood,
To say, as I said then!-But, come, away:
Get me ink and paper: he shall have every day
A several greeting, or I'll unpeople Egypt.
[Exeunt.

Men. Cæsar and Lepidus

Are in the field; a mighty strength they carry.
Pom. Where have you this? 'tis false.
Men. From Silvius, sir.

Pom. He dreams; I know, they are in Rome together,

Looking for Antony: But all charms of love,
Salt Cleopatra, soften thy wan'd lip!
Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both!
Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts,
Keep his brain fuming; Epicurean cooks,
Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite;
That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honour,
Even till a Lethe'd dulness.-How now,
Varrius?

Enter VARRIUS.

Var. This is most certain that I shall deliver: Mark Antony is every hour in Rome Expected; since he went from Egypt, 'tis A space for further travel.

Pom. I could have given less matter A better ear.-Menas, I did not think, This amorous surfeiter would have don'd his helm For such a petty war: his soldiership

Is twice the other twain: But let us rear The higher our opinion, that our stirring Can from the lap of Egypt's widow pluck The ne'er lust-wearied Antony.

Men. I cannot hope,

Cæsar and Antony shall well greet together:
His wife, that's dead, did trespasses to Cæsar;
His brother warr'd upon him; although, I think,
Not mov'd by Antony.

Pom. I know not, Menas,

How lesser enmities may give way to greater. Were't not that we stand up against them all, Twere pregnant they should square between themselves;

For they have entertained cause enough

To draw their swords: but how the fear of us
May cement their divisions, and bind up
The petty difference, we yet not know.
Be it as our gods will have it! It only stands
Our lives upon, to use our strongest hands.
Come, Menas.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Rome. A room in the house of LEPIDUS.

Enter ENOBARBUS and LEPIDUS.

Lep. Good Enobarbus, 'tis a worthy deed, And shall become you well, toentreat your captain To soft and gentle speech.

Eno. I shall entreat him

To answer ike himself: If Cæsar move him,
Let Antony look over Cæsar's head,

And speak as loud as Mars. By Jupiter,
Were I the wearer of Antonius' beard,
I would not shave to-day.

Lep. 'Tis not a time

For private stomaching.

Eno. Every time

Serves for the matter that is then born in it. Lep. But small to greater matters must give

way.

Eno. Not if the small come first.

Lep. Your speech is passion:

But, pray you, stir no embers up. Here comes The noble Antony.

Enter ANTONY and VENTIDIUS. Eno. And yonder, Cæsar.

Enter CESAR, MECENAS, and Agrippa. Ant. If we compose well here, to Parthia: Hark you, Ventidius.

Cæs. I do not know,
Mecanas; ask Agrippa.
Lep. Noble friends,

That which combin'd us was most great, and let not
A leaner action rend us. What's amiss,
May it be gently heard: When we debate
Our trivial difference loud, we do commit
Murder in healing wounds: Then, noble partners,
(The rather, for I earnestly beseech,)
Touch you the sourest points with sweetest terms,
Nor curstness grow to the matter.

It not concern'd me.

Ant. My being in Egypt, Cæsar, What was❜t to you?

Caes. No more than my residing here at Rome Might be to you in Egypt: Yet, if you there Did practise on my state, your being in Egypt Might be my question.

Ant. How intend you, practis'd?

Cæs. You may be pleas'd to catch at mine intent, By what did here befal me. Your wife, and brother,

Made wars upon me; and their contestation Was theme for you, you were the word of wax. Ant. You do mistake your business; my bro

ther never

Did urge me in his act: I did inquire it;
And have my learning from some true reports,
That drew their swords with you. Did he not

rather

Discredit my authority with yours;

And make the wars alike against my stomach, Having alike your cause? Of this, my letters Before did satisfy you. If you'll patch a quarrel, As matter whole you have not to make it with, It must not be with this.

Cas. You praise yourself

By laying defects of judgment to me; but
You patch'd up your excuses.

Ant. Not so, not so;

I know you could not lack, I am certain on't,
Very necessity of this thought, that I,
Your partner in the cause 'gainst which he fought,
Could not with graceful eyes attend those wars,
Which 'fronted mine own peace. As for my wife,
I would you had her spirit in such another:
The third o'the world is yours; which with a snaffle
You may pace easy, but not such a wife.

Eno. 'Would we had all such wives, that the men might go to wars with the women!

Ant. So much uncurable, her garboils, Cæsar, Made out of her impatience, (which not wanted Shrewdness of policy too,) I grieving grant, Did you too much disquiet: for that, you must But say, I could not help it.

Cæs. I wrote to you,