Eno. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides, So many mermaids, tended her i' the eyes, And made their bends adornings: at the helm A seeming mermaid steers: the silken tackle Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands That yarely frame the office. From the barge A strange invisible pérfume hits the sense Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast Her people out upon her; and Antony, Enthroned in the market-place, did sit alone, Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy, Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too, And made a gap in nature.

Agr.

Rare Egyptian!

Eno. Upon her landing, Antony sent to her; Invited her to supper: she replied,

It should be better he became her guest;
Which she entreated. Our courteous Antony
(Whom ne'er the word of "No" woman heard
speak),

Being barbered ten times o'er, goes to the feast;
And for his ordinary pays his heart,
For what his eyes eat only.

Agr.

Royal wench!

Hop forty paces through the public street :
And having lost her breath, she spoke and panted
That she did make defect perfection,
And (breathless) power breathe forth.

Mec. Now Antony must leave her utterly.
Eno. Never; he will not:

Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
Her infinite variety. Other women
Cloy th' appetites they feed, but she makes hungry
Where most she satisfies: for vilest things
Become themselves in her, that the holy priests
Bless her when she is riggish.

Mec. If beauty, wisdom, modesty, can settle The heart of Antony, Octavia is

A blesséd lottery to him.

SCENE III.-The same. A Room in CÆSAR's House. Enter CESAR, ANTONY, OCTAVIA between them; Attendants, and a Soothsayer.

Ant. The world and my great office will sometimes

Divide me from your bosom.
All which time

Octa.
Before the gods my knee shall bow my prayers
To them for you.

Ant. Good night, sir.-My Octavia, Read not my blemishes in the world's report: I have not kept my square, but that to come Shall all be done by the rule. Good night, dear lady.

Octa. Good night, sir. Cæs. Good night.

[Exeunt CESAR and OCTAVIA. Ant. Now, sirrah; you do wish yourself in Egypt?

Sooth. 'Would I had never come from thence; nor you thither!

Ant. If you can, your reason?

Sooth. I see it in my motion; have it not in my tongue: but yet hie you to Egypt again. Ant. Say to me,

Whose fortunes shall rise higher, Cæsar's or mine?
Sooth. Cæsar's.

Therefore, O Antony, stay not by his side:
Thy dæmon (that's thy spirit which keeps thee) is
Noble, courageous, high, unmatchable,
Where Cæsar's is not; but near him, thy angel
Becomes a Fear, as being o'erpowered: therefore
Make space enough between you.

Say to Ventidius I would speak with him:—
[Exit Soothsayer.

He shall to Parthia.-Be it art or hap,
He hath spoken true. The very dice obey him,
And in our sports my better cunning faints
Under his chance: if we draw lots, he speeds:
His cocks do win the battle still of mine
When it is all to nought; and his quails ever
Beat mine, inhooped, at odds. I will to Egypt:
And though I make this marriage for my peace
Enter VENTIDIUS.

I' the east my pleasure lies.—O! come, Ventidius,

Cleo. Let it alone: let us to billiards. Come, Charmian.

Char. My arm is sore; best play with Mardian. Cleo. As well a woman with an eunuch played | As with a woman:-come, you'll play with me, sir?

Mar. As well as I can, madam.

Cleo. And when good will is shewed, though it come too short,

The actor may plead pardon.-I'll none now:
Give me mine angle; we 'll to the river: there,
My music playing far off, I will betray
Tawny-finned fishes: my bended hook shall pierce
Their slimy jaws; and, as I draw them up,
I'll think them every one an Antony,

And say,

Char.

"Ah, ah! you're caught."

'T was merry when

In state of health, thou sayst; and thou sayst, free.

Mess. Free, madam! no; I made no such

report:

He's bound unto Octavia.

Mess. Take no offence that I would not offend you: To punish me for what you make me do, Seems much unequal. He is married to Octavia.

Cleo. O that his fault should make a knave of thee,

That art not?-What? thou 'rt sure of 't?-Get thee hence:

The merchandise which thou hast brought from Rome

Are all too dear for me: lie they upon thy hand,
And be undone by 'em! [Exit Messenger.

Char.
Good your highness, patience.
Cleo. In praising Antony, I have dispraised Cæsar.
Char. Many times, madam.

I faint: O Iras, Charmian!-'Tis no matter.-
Go to the fellow, good Alexas: bid him
Report the feature of Octavia, her years,
Her inclination: let him not leave out
The colour of her hair. Bring me word quickly.—
[Exit ALEXAS.
Let him for ever go!-Let him not-Charmian,
Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon,
T'other way he's a Mars.-Bid you Alexas
[TO MARDIAN.
Bring me word how tall she is.-Pity me, Charmian,
But do not speak to me: lead me to my chamber.

The senators alone of this great world,
Chief factors for the gods,—I do not know
Wherefore my father should revengers want,
Having a son and friends; since Julius Cæsar,
Who at Philippi the good Brutus ghosted,
There saw you labouring for him. What was it
That moved pale Cassius to conspire; and what
Made the all-honoured honest Roman, Brutus,
With the armed rest, courtiers of beauteous free-
dom,

To drench the Capitol; but that they would
Have one man Lut a man? And that is it
Hath made me rig my navy, at whose burden
The angered ocean foams; with which I meant
To scourge the ingratitude that despiteful Rome
Cast on my noble father.

Eno. At sea, I think.

Men. We have, sir.

Eno. You have done well by water.
Men. And you by land.

Eno. I will praise any man that will praise me: though it cannot be denied what I have done by land.

Men. Nor what I have done by water.

Eno. Yes, something you can deny for your own safety: you have been a great thief by sea. Men. And you by land.

Eno. There I deny my land service. But give me your hand, Menas: if our eyes had authority, here they might take two thieves kissing.

Men. All men's faces are true, whatsoe'er their hands are.

Eno. But there is never a fair woman has a true face.

Men. No slander: they steal hearts. Eno. We came hither to fight with you. Men. For my part, I am sorry it is turned to a drinking. Pompey doth this day laugh away his fortune.

Eno. If he do, sure he cannot weep it back again. Men. You have said, sir. We looked not for Marc Antony here: pray you is he married to Cleopatra?

Eno. Cæsar's sister is called Octavia.

Men. True, sir: she was the wife of Caius Marcellus.

Eno. But she is now the wife of Marcus Antonius.

Men. Pray you, sir?

Eno. 'Tis true.

Men. Then is Cæsar and he for ever knit together.

Eno. If I were bound to divine of this unity, I would not prophesy so.

Men. I think the policy of that purpose made more in the marriage than the love of the parties. Eno. I think so too: but you shall find the band that seems to tie their friendship together, will be the very strangler of their amity. Octavia is of a holy, cold, and still conversation.

Men. Who would not have his wife so?
Eno. Not he that himself is not so; which is