ÆäÀÌÁö À̹ÌÁö
PDF
ePub

Cleo. Indeed?

Mar. Not in deed, madam; for I can do nothing But what in deed is honest to be done :

Yet have I fierce affections, and think,
What Venus did with Mars.

Cleo. O Charmian,

Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he? Or does he walk? or is he on his horse?

O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony!

Do bravely, horse! for wot'st thou whom thou mov'st?
The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm

And burgonet of men.-He's speaking now,
Or murmuring, Where's my serpent of old Nile?
For so he calls me; Now I feed myself
With most delicious poison :-Think on me,
That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black,
And wrinkled deep in 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 aspéct, 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,

Who neigh'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 ex

tremes

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.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-Messina. A Room in POMPEY's House.

Enter POMPEY, MENECRATES, and MENAS. Pom. If the great gods be just, they shall assist The deeds of justest men.

Mene. Know, worthy Pompey,

That what they do delay, they not deny.

Pom. Whiles we are suitors to their throne, decays

The thing we sue for.

Mene. We, ignorant of ourselves,

Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers
Deny us for our good; so find we profit,

By losing of our prayers.

Pom. I shall do well:

The people love me, and the sea is mine;

My power's a crescent, and my auguring hope
Says, it will come to the full. Mark Antony

In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make

No wars without doors: Cæsar gets money, where

He loses hearts: Lepidus flatters both,

Of both is flatter'd; but he neither loves,

Nor either cares for him.

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 toge

ther,

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, Varius?

Enter VARIUS.

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,

« ÀÌÀü°è¼Ó »