May be a Coward's, whose Ministers would prevail
Under the fervice of a Child, as foon

As i'th' Command of Cafar. I dare him therefore
To lay his gay comparisons apart,
And answer me declin'd, Sword against Sword,
Our selves alone; I'll write it, follow me. (Exit Antony.

Eno. Yes, like enough: hye-battel'd Cafar will
Unstate his happiness, and be Stag'd to th' shew
Against a Sworder. I see Mens judgments are
A parcel of their Fortunes, and things outward
Do draw the inward quality after them
To fuffer all alike. That he should dream,
Knowing all measures, the full Cafar will
Answer his emptiness; Cafar thou hast subdu'd
His judgment too.

Enter a Servant.

Ser. A Meffenger from Cafar.

Cleo. What, no more Ceremony? See my Women,
Against the blown Rofe may they stop their Nose,
That kneel'd unto the Buds. Admit him, Sir.

Eno. Mine honesty, and I, begin to square;
The Loyalty well held to Fools, does make
Our Faith meer Folly: yet he that can endure
To follow with Allegiance a fall'n Lord,
Do's conquer him that did his Master conquer,
And earns a place i'th' Story.

Cleo. Cafar's Will.

Thid. Hear it apart.

Enter Thidias.

Cleo. None but Friends; fay boldly.

Thid. So haply are they Friends to Antony. Eno. he needs as many, Sir, as Cafar has; Or needs not us. If Cafar please, our Master Will leap to be his Friend: For as you know, Whose he is, we are, and that is Cafar's.

Thid. So. Thus then thou most renown'd, Cafar intreats

Not to confider in what cafe thou stand'st

Further than he is Cafar.

Cleo. Go on, right Royal.

Thid. He knows that you embrace not Antony

As you did love, but as you feared him.

Gleo.

Cleo. Oh!

Thid. The scars upon your Honour, therefore he

Do's pity, as conftrained blemishes,

Not as deserved.

4

[Afide.

Cleo. He is a god, and knows what is molt right. Mine Honour was not yielded, but conquer'd meerly.

Eno. To be fure of that, I will ask Antony.

Sir, Sir, thou art fo leaky

That we must leave thee to thy finking, for
Thy dearest quit thee.

Thid. Shall I say to Cafar,

[Exit Eno.

What you require of him: for he partly begs
To be defir'd to give. It much would please him,
That of his Fortunes you should make a Staff

To lean upon. But it would warm his Spirits,

To hear from me you had left Antony,

And put your felf under his Shrowd, the universal Landlord.

Cleo. What's your Name?

Thid. My Name is Thidias.

Cleo. Moft kind Messenger;

Say to great Cafar this in difputation,

Ikiss his conqu'ring Hand: Tell him, I am prompt
To lay my Crown at's Feet, and there to kneel.
Tell him that from his all-obeying breath,
I hear the doom of Egypt.

Thid. 'Tis your nobleft course:
Wisdom and Fortune combating together,
If that the former dare but what it can,
No chance may shake it. Give me grace to lay
My Duty on your Hand.

Cleo. Your Cafar's Father oft,
When he hath mus'd of taking Kingdoms in,
Bestow'd his Lips on that unworthy place,
As it rain'd Kiffes.

Enter Antony, and Enobarbus.

Ant. Favours! by Jove that thunders,

What art thou Fellow?

[Seeing Thidias kiss her Hand.

Thid. One that but performs

The bidding of the fullest Man, and worthiest

To have command obey'd,

Eno. You will be whipp'd.

Ant.

Ant. Approach there---ah you Kite! Now gods and devils!

Authority melts from me of late. When I cry'd hoa!
Like Boys unto a muss, Kings would start forth,

And cry your will. Have you no Ears?

I am Antony yet. Take hence this Jack and whip him.

Enter a Servant.

Eno. 'Tis better playing with a Lion's Whelp,

Than with an old one dying.
Ant. Moon and Stars!

Whip him: were twenty of the greatest tributaries
That do acknowledge Cafar, should I find them
So sawcy with the hand of the here, what's her Name
Since she was Cleopatra Whip him, Fellows-
'Till like a Boy you see him cringe his Face,

And whine aloud for mercy. Take him hence.

Thid. Mark Antony

Ant. Tug him away; being whipt,

Bring him again, the Jack of Cafar's shall

Bear us an Errand to him.

[Exeunt with Thidias.

You were half blasted e'er I knew you: Ha!.

Have I my Pillow left unprest in Rome,

Forborn the geting of a lawful Race,

And by a Jem of Women, to be abus'd

By one that looks on Feeders?

Cleo, Good, my Lord

Ant. You have been a Boggler ever,
But when we in our Viciousness grew hard,
Oh mifery on't, the wife gods seal cur Eyes
In our own filth, drop our clear judgments, make us
Adore our errors, laugh at's while we strut
To our confufion.

Cleo. Oh, is't come to this?

Ant. I found you as a Morfel, cold upon
Dead Cafar's Trencher: Nay, you were a Fragment
Of Cneius Pompey's, besides what hotter hours
Unregistred in vulgar Fame, you have
Luxuriously pickt out. For I am sure,

Though you can guess what Temperance should be,

You know not what it is.

Cleo. Wherefore is this?

Ant. To let a Fellow that will take rewards,

And

And fay, God quit you, be familiar with
My Play-fellow, your hand; this Kingly Seal,
And plighter of high Hearts! O that I were
Upon the Hill of Bafan, to out-roar
The horned Herd, for I have Savage caufe.
And to proclain it civilly, were like
Ahalter'd Neck, which does the Hangman thank
For being yare about him. Is he whip'd?

Enter a Servant with Thidias.

Ser. Soundly, my Lord.

Ant. Cry'd he? and begg'd a pardon?

Ser. He did ask favour.

Ant. If that thy Father live, let him repent
Thou wast not made his Daughter; and be thou forry

To follow Cafar in his triumph, fince

Thou haft been whipp'd, for following him. Henceforth
The white Hand of a Lady Feaver thee,
Shake to look on't. Go get thee back to Cafar,
Tell him thy entertainment: look thou say,
He make me angry with him. For he seems
Proud and disdair ful, harping on what I am,
Not what he knew I was. He makes me angry,
And at this time most easie '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
Hiparchus, my enfranched 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, be gone.

Cleo. Have you done yet?

[Exit Thid.

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 Cafar, 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 fo,

From my cold Heart, let Heav'n ingender Hail,
VOL, VI.

E

And

And poison it in the fource, and the first Stone
Drop in my Neck; as it determines, so
Diffolve my Life; the next Cafario fmite,
'Till by degrees the memory of my Womb,
Together with my brave Ægyptians all,
By the discattering of this pelletted storm,
Lie Gravelefs, 'till the Flies and Gnats of Nile
Have buried them for prey.

Ant. I am satisfied:

Cafar fets down in Alexandria, where

I will oppose his Fate. Our Force by Land,
Hath nobly held, and fever'd Navy too
Have knit again, and Float, threatning most Sea-like.
Where haft thou been my Heart? dost thou hear, Lady?
If from the Field I shall return once more
To kiss these Lips, I will appear in Blood,
I, and my Sword, will earn my Chronicle,
There's hope in't yet.

Cleo. That's my brave Lord.

Ant. I will be treble-finewed, 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 fet my Teeth,
And send to darkness all that stop me. Come,
Let's have one other gawdy Night: Call to me
All my fad Captains, fill our Bowls; once more

Let's mock the Midnight Bell.

Cleo. It is my Birth-day,

2

I had thought t'have heid it poor. But fince my Lord

Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra.

Ant. We will yet do well.

Cleo. Call all his noble Captains to my Lord.

Ant. Do fo, we'll speak to them, and to Night I'll force The Wine peep through their Scars. Come on, my Queen

There's fap in't yet. The next time I do fight
I'll make Death love me for I will contend

Even with his Peftilent Scythe.

[Exeunt.

Eno. Now he'll out-stare the Lightning, to be furious

Is to be frighted out of fear, and in that mood
The Dove will peck the Estridge; and I fee still

A diminution in our Captain's Brain

Reftores