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Not what he knew I was : He makes me angry;
And at this time most easy 'tis to do't ;
When my good stars, that were my former guides,
Have empty left their orbs, and shot their fires
Into the abism of hell. If he mislike
My speech, and what is done; tell him, he has
Hipparchus, my enfranchis’d bondman, whom
He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture,
As he shall like, to quit me: Urge it thou :
Hence, with thy stripes, begone. [Erit THYREUS,
Cleo. Have you done yet?
Ant. Alack, our terrene moon
Is now eclips'd; and it portends alone
The fall of Antony !
Cleo. I must stay his time.
Ant. To flatter Cæsar, would you mingle eyes
With one that ties his points ?
Cleo. Not know me yet?
Ant. Cold-hearted toward me?
Cleo. Ah, dear, if I be so,
From my cold heart let heaven engender hail,
And poison it in the source; and the first stone
Drop in my neck : as it determines, so
Dissolve my life! The next Cæsarion smite !
Till, by degrees, the memory of my womb,
Together with my brave Egyptians all,
By the discandying of this pelleted storm,
Lie graveless; till the flies and gnats of Nile
Have buried them for prey !
Ant. I am satisfied.
Cæsar sits down in Alexandria ; where
I will oppose his fate. Our force by land
Hath nobly held ; our fever'd navy too
Have knit again, and fleet, threat'ning most sea-like.
Where hast thou been, my heart ?-Dost thou hear,
If from the field I shall return once more
To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood;
I and my sword will earn our chronicle ;
There is hope in it yet.
Cleo. That's my brave lord !
Ant. I will be treble-sinew'd, hearted, breath’d,
And fight maliciously: for when mine hours
Were nice and lucky, men did ransome lives
Of me for jests; but now, I'll set my teeth,
And send to darkness all that stop me.-Come,
Let's have one other gaudy night: call to me
All my sad captains, fill our bowls ; once more
Let's mock the midnight bell.
Cleo. It is my birth-day :
I had thought, to have held it poor; but, since my lord
Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra.
Ant. We'll yet do well.
Cleo. Call all his noble captains to my lord.
Ant. Do so, we'll speak to them; and to-night I'll
force The wine peep through their scars.-Come on, my
There's sap in't yet. The next time I do fight,
I'll make death love me; for I will contend
Even with his pestilent scythe.
[Exeunt ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, and Attendants. Eno. Now he'll out-stare the lightning. To be fu
Is, to be frighted out of fear : and in that mood,
The dove will peck the estridge, and I see still,
A diminution in our captain's brain
Restores his heart: When valour preys on reason,
It eats the sword it fights with. I will seek
Some way to leave him.
SCENE I.-Cæsar's Camp at Alexandria.
Enter Cæsar, reading a Letter; AGRIPPA, MECÆNAS,
Cæs. He calls me boy; and chides, as he had power
To beat me out of Egypt: my messenger
He hath whipp'd with rods; dares me to personal com-
Cæsar to Antony: Let the old ruffian know,
I have many other ways to die; mean time,
Laugh at his challenge.
Mec. Cæsar must think,
When one so great begins to rage, he's hunted
Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now
Make boot of his distraction: Never anger
Made good guard for itself.
Cæs. Let our best heads
Know that to-morrow the last of
We mean to fight :-Within our files there are
Of those that serv'd Mark Antony but late,
Enough to fetch him in. See it be done;
And feast the army: we have store to do't,
And they have earn’d the waste. Poor Antony !
SCENE II.-Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.
Enter ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUS, CHAR
MIAN, IRAS, ALEXAS, and others. Ant. He will not fight with me, Domitius. Eno. No. Ant. Why should he not? Eno. He thinks, being twenty times of better for
He is twenty men to one.
Ant. To-morrow, soldier,
By sea and land I'll fight: or I will live,
Or bathe my dying honour in the blood
Shall make it live again. Woo't thou fight well ?
Eno. I'll strike; and cry, Take all.
Ant. Well said ; come on.-
Call forth my household servants; let's to-night
Enter Servants. Be bounteous at our meal.-Give me thy hand, Thou hast been rightly honest ;--so hast thou ;And thou,--and thou,-and thou you have serv'd
me well, And kings have been your fellows.
Cleo. What means this? Eno. 'Tis one of those odd tricks, which sorrow shoots
[ Aside. Out of the mind.
Ant. And thou art honest too.
I wish, I could be made so many men;