And then, when poison'd hours had bound me up
From mine own knowledge. As nearly as I may,
I'll play the penitent to you: but mine honesty
Shall not make poor my greatness, nor my power
Work without it: Truth is, that Fulvia,
To have me out of Egypt, made wars here;
For which myself, the ignorant motive, do
So far ask pardon, as befits mine honour #
To stoop in such a case.

Lep.

8

Tis nobly spoken. Mec. If it might please you, to enforce no further The griefs between ye: to forget them quite, Were to remember that the present need Speaks to atone you.? Leptari

་

Worthily spoke, Mecenas.!! Eno. Or, if you borrow one another's love for the instant, you may, when you hear no more words of Pompey, return it again: you shall have time to wrangle in, when you have nothing else to do.

Ant. Thou art a soldier only; speak no more. Eno. That truth should be silent, I had almost forgot.

Ant. You wrong this presence, therefore speak

no more.

Eno. Go to then; your considerate stone.1 Cæs. I do not much dislike the matter, but The manner of his speech: for it cannot be, We shall remain in friendship, our conditions So differing in their acts. Yet, if I knew

7 -nor my power

Work without it:] Nor my greatness work without mine honesty.

8 The griefs-] i. e. grievances.

9- to atone you.] i. e. reconcile you.

1

your considerate stone.] Mr. Tollet explains the passage in question thus: "I will henceforth seem senseless as a stone, however I may observe and consider your words and actions."

What hoop should hold us staunch, from edge to

edge

O' the world I would

pursue it.

Give me leave, Cæsar,

Agr.

Caes. Speak, Agrippa.

Agr. Thou hast a sister by the mother's side, Admir'd. Octavia: great Mark Antony

Is now a widower.

Cies.

Say not so, Agrippa;

If Cleopatra heard you, your reproof
Were well deserv'd of rashness.

Ant. I am not married, Cæsar: let me hear
Agrippa further speak.

Agr. To hold you in perpetual amity,

To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts
With an unslipping knot, take Antony
Octavia to his wife: whose beauty claims
No worse a husband than the best of men;
Whose virtue, and whose general graces, speak
That which none else can utter. By this marriage,
All little jealousies, which now seem great,

And all great fears, which now import their dangers,
Would then be nothing: truths would be but tales,
Where now half tales be truths: her love to both,
Would, each to other, and all loves to both,
Draw after her. Pardon what I have spoke;
For 'tis a studied, not a present thought,
By duty ruminated.

Ant.

Will Cæsar speak?

Cæs. Not till he hears how Antony is touch'd With what is spoke already.

What power is in Agrippa,

The power of Cæsar, and

May I never

His power unto Octavia.

Ant.

To this good purpose, that so fairly shows, Dream of impediment!-Let me have thy hand: Further this act of grace; and, from this hour, The heart of brothers govern in our loves,

And sway our great designs!

Cæs.
There is my hand.
A sister I bequeath you, whom no brother
Did ever love so dearly: Let her live

To join our kingdoms, and our hearts; and never Fly off our loves again!

Lep.

Happily, amen!

Ant. I did not think to draw my sword 'gainst

Pompey;

For he hath laid strange courtesies, and great,
Of late upon me: I must thank him only,
Lest my remembrance suffer ill report;2

At heel of that, defy him.

Lep.

8

Of us must Pompey presently be sought,

Or else he seeks out us.

Ant.

Time calls upon us:

And where lies he?

What's his strength

Cæs. About the Mount Misenum.

Ant.

By land?

Cies.

Great, and increasing: but by sea

He is an absolute master.

Ant.

So is the fame.

'Would, we had spoke together? Haste we for it: Yet, ere we put ourselves in arms, despatch we The business we have talk'd of.

Cæs.

With most gladness;

2 Lest my remembrance suffer ill report;] Lest I be thought too willing to forget benefits, I must barely return him thanks, and then I will defy him.

Of us, &c.] In the language of Shakspeare's time, means→→→ by us.

And do invite you to my sister's view,
Whither straight I will lead you.

Let us, Lepidus,

Noble Antony,

Not sickness should detain me.

[Flourish. Exeunt CESAR, ANT. and LEPIDUS. Mec. Welcome from Egypt, sir.

Eno. Half the heart of Cæsar, worthy Mecænas! -my honourable friend, Agrippa!Agr. Good Enobarbus!

Mec. We have cause to be glad, that matters are so well digested. You staied well by it in Egypt. Eno. Ay, sir; we did sleep day out of countenance, and made the night light with drinking.

Mec. Eight wild boars roasted whole at a breakfast, and but twelve persons there; Is this true?

Eno. This was but as a fly by an eagle: we had much more monstrous matter of feast, which worthily deserved noting.

Mec. She's a most triumphant lady, if report be square to her.4

Eno. When she first met Mark Antony, she pursed up his heart, upon the river of Cydnus. Agr. There she appeared indeed; or my reporter devised well for her.

Eno. I will tell you:

The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne,
Burn'd on the water: the poop was beaten gold;
Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that

The winds were love-sick with them: the oars were silver;

Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water, which they beat, to follow faster,

As amorous of their strokes. For her own person,

4

be square to her.] i. e. if report quadrates with her, or suits with her merits.

It beggar'd all description: she did lie
In her pavilion, (cloth of gold, of tissue,)
O'er-picturing that Venus, where we see,

The fancy out-work nature: on each side her, Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, With diverse-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool, And what they undid, did.3

Agr.

6

O, rare for Antony! 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,
Enthron'd 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.

5 And what they undid, did.] The wind of the fans seemed to give a new colour to Cleopatra's cheeks, which they were employed to cool; and what they undid; i. e. that warmth which they were intended to diminish or allay, they did, i. e. they seemed to produce.

6 tended her i the eyes,] Perhaps this expression may signify that the attendants on Cleopatra looked observantly into her eyes, to catch her meaning, without giving her the trouble of verbal explanation; or only means, they performed their duty in the sight of their mistress.

7 And made their bends adornings:] The plain sense, says Mr. Steevens, of this contested passage seems to be—that these Ladies rendered that homage which their assumed characters obliged them to pay to their Queen, a circumstance ornamental to themselves. Each inclined her person so gracefully, that the very act of humiliation was an improvement of her own beauty.

8 That yarely frame the office.] i. e. readily and dexterously perform the task they undertake.