Puslapio vaizdai
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Against a sworder.-I see, men's judgments are
A parcel of their fortunes; and things outward
Do draw the inward quality after them,

To suffer all alike. That he should dream,
Knowing all measures, the full Cæsar will'
Answer his emptiness!-Cæsar, thou hast subdued
His judgment too.

Enter an ATTENDANT.

Alt. A messenger from Cæsar.

Cleo. What, no more ceremony ?-See, my wo

men!

Against the blown rose may they stop their nose,
That kneel'd unto the buds.-Admit him, Sir.
Eno. Mine honesty, and I, begin to square t.
[Aside.

The loyalty well held to fools, does make
Our faith mere folly:-Yet, he, that can endure
To follow with allegiance a fallen lord,

Does conquer him that did his master conquer,
And earns a place i' the story.

Enter THYREUS.

Cleo. Cæsar's will?

Ther. Hear it apart.

Cleo. None but friends; say boldly.

Thyr. So, haply, are they friends to Antony. Eno. He needs as many, Sir, as Cæsar has; Or needs not us. If Cæsar please, our master Will leap to be his friend for us, you know, Whose he is, we are; and that's, Caesar's. Thyr. So.

Thus then, thou most renown'd; Cæsar entreats, Not to consider in what case thou stand'st, Further than he is Cæsar.

Cleo. Go on right royal.

Thyr. He knows, that you embrace not Antony As you did love, but as you fear'd him.

Cleo. 01

Thyr. The scars upon your honour, therefore, he Does pity, as constrained blemishes,

Not as deserved.

Cleo. He is a god, and knows

What is most right: mine honour was not yielded,

But conquer'd merely.

Eno. To be sure of that,

Are of a piece with them. + Perhaps.

[Aside.

+ Quarrel.

I will ask Antony.-Sir, Sir, thou'rt so leaky,
That we must leave thee to thy sinking, for
Thy dearest quit thee.

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Thyr. Shall I say to Cæsar

[Exit Enobarbus.

What you require of him? For he partly begs
To be desired 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 yourself under his shrowd,

The universal landlord.

Cleo. What's your name?

Thyr. My name is Thyreus.
Cleo. Most kind messenger,

Say to great Cæsar this, In disputation*

I kiss his conqu’ring hand: tell him, I am prompt
To lay my crown at his feet, and there to kneel:
Tell him, from his all-obeying + breath I hear
The doom of Egypt.

Thyr. 'Tis your noblest 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 Cæsar's father

Oft, when he hath mused of taking kingdoms in §,
Bestow'd his lips on that unworthy place,
As it rain'd kisses.

Re-enter ANTONY and ENOBARBUS.

Ant. Favours, by Jove that thunders!What art thou, fellow ?

Thyr. One, that but performs

The bidding of the fullest man, and worthiest

To have command obey 'd.

Eno. You will be whipp'd.

Ant. Approach, there :-Ay, you kite!-Now gods and devils!

Anthority melts from me: of late, when I cried,

ho!

Like boys unto a muss, kings would start forth, And cry, Your will? Have you no ears? I am

Enter Attendants.

Antony yet. Take hence this Jack **, and whip him

* Supposed to be an error for deputation, i. e. by proxy.

Grant me the favour. Most complete and perfect. **A term of contempt.

+ Obeyed. $ Conquering. Scramble.

Eno. 'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp, Than with an old one dying.

Ant. Moon and stars!

Whip him :-Were't twenty of the greatest tribu

taries

That do acknowledge Cæsar, should I find them
So saucy with the hand of she 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. Thyr. Mark Antony,

Ant. Tug him away: being whipp'd,

Bring him again :-This Jack of Caesar's shall
Bear us an errand to him.-

[Exeunt Attendants with Thyreus.
You were half blasted ere I knew you:-Ha!
Have I my pillow left unpress'd in Rome,
Forborne the getting of a lawful race,
And by a gem of women, to be abused
By one that looks on feeders ⚫ }

Cleo. Good my lord,

Ant. You have been a boggler ever :

But when we in our viciousness grow hard,

(O misery on't!) the wise gods seel+ our eyes; In our own filth drop our clear judgments; make

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Adore our errors; laugh at us, while we strut
To our confusion.

Cleo. O, is it come to this?

Ant. I found you as a morsel, cold upon

Dead Cæsar's trencher: nay, you were a frag

ment

Of Cneius Pompey's; besides what hotter hours, Unregister'd in vulgar fame, you have Luxuriously pick'd 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 say, God quit you! Be familiar with
My playfellow, your hand; this kingly seal,
And plighter of high hearts !-0, that I were
Upon the hill of Basan, to outroar

The horned herd! for I have savage cause;
And to proclaim it civilly, were like

⚫ Servants.

+ Close up.

Wantonly.

A halter'd neck, which does the hangman thank For being yare about him.-Is he whipp'd?

Re-enter ATTENDANTS, with THYREUS.

1 Att. Soundly, my lord.

Ant. Cried he? and begg'd he pardon? 1 Att. He did ask favour.

Ant. If that thy father live, let him repent Thou wast not made his daughter; and be thou

sorry

To follow Caesar in his triumph, since

Thou hast been whipp'd for following him: henceforth,

The white hand of a lady fever thee,

Shake thou to look on't.-Get thee back to Cæsar
Tell him thy entertainment: look, thou say,
He makes me angry with him: for he seems
Proud and disdainful; harping on what I am;
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 enfranchised bondman, whom
He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture,
As he shall like, to quit me urge it thon :
Hence, with thy stripes, begone.

Cleo. Have you done yet?

Ant. Alack, our terrene I moon

[Exit Thyreus.

Is now eclipsed; 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 ý, 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

this pelleted storm,

Earthly.

Her son by Julius Cæsar..

Ready, handy.
Dissolves.

+ Requite,

Melting.

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 sever'd navy too

Have knit again, and fleet §§, threat'ning most sealike.

Where hast 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 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 gaudyt 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

queen;

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 Attend. 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 1; 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.

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-[Exit.

Ostrich.

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