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Lie graveless, till the flies and gnats of Nile
Have buried them for prey!

Ant. I am satisfied.

Caesar 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 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's hope in 't 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 ransom lives Of me for jests; but now, Til 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 birthday:

I had thought to have held it poor; but since 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 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, Cleopatha, and Attendants. Eno. Now he'll outstare the lightning. To be furious, Is, to be frighted out of fear; and in that mood The clove 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. \_Exit.


Scene I. — Caesar's Camp at Alexandria.

Enter Caesar, reading a letter; Aghippa, Mec^enas, and Others.


~E 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

Csesar to Antony: let the old ruffian know,
I have many other ways to die; meantime,
Laugh at his challenge.

Mec. Caesar 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.

Cces. Let our best heads

Know, that to-morrow the last of many battles
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 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, Ceeopatba, Enobabjbus, Chahmian, 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 fortune, 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, 4 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 ; — Thou, — and thou, -— and thou : — you have serv'd me

well, And kings have been your fellows.

Cleo. What means this?

Eno. 5Tis one of those odd tricks, which sorrow shoots Out of the mind.

Ant. And thou, art honest too.

I wish I could be made so many men,
And all of you clapp'd up together in
An Antony, that I might do you service,
So good as you have done.

Serv. The gods forbid!

Ant. Well, my good fellows, wait on me to-night; Scant not my cups, and make as much of me, As when mine empire was your fellow too, And suffer'd my command.

Cleo. What does he mean?

Eno. To make his followers weep.

Ant. Tend me to-night;

May be it is the period of your duty:
Haply, you shall not see me more; or if,
A mangled shadow: perchance, to-morrow
You'll serve another master. I look on you,
As one that takes his leave. Mine honest friends,
I turn you not away; but, like a master
Married to your good service, stay till death.
Tend me to-night two hours, I ask no more,
And the gods yield you for 't.

Eno. What mean you, sir9

To give them this discomfort? Look, they weep; And I, an ass, am onion-ey'd: for shame, Transform us not to women.

Ant. Ho, ho, ho!

Now, the witch take me, if I meant it thus.
Grace grow where those drops fall! My hearty

friends, You take me in too dolorous a sense, For I spake to you for your comfort; did desire

you To burn this night with torches. Know, my hearts, I hope well of to-morrow; and will lead you, #2

Where rather I'll expect victorious life,

Than death and honour. Let's to supper; come,

And drown consideration. [Exeunt,

Scene III.
The Same. Before the Palace.

Enter two Soldiers, to their guard.

1 Sold. Brother, good night: to-morrow is the


2 Sold. It will determine one way: fare you well. Heard you of nothing strange about the streets?

1 Sold. Nothing. What news?

2 Sold. Belike 'tis but a rumour. Good night to


1 Sold. Well, sir, good night.

Enter two other Soldiers.

2 Sold. Soldiers, have careful watch.

3 Sold. And you. Good night, good night.

[The first two place themselves at their posts.

4 Sold. Here we: [they take their posts.'] and if

to-morrow Our navy thrive, I have an absolute hope Our landmen will stand up.

3 Sold. 'Tis a brave army, And full of purpose.

[Music of hautboys under the stage.

4 Sold. Peace! what noise!

1 Sold. List, list!

2 Sold. Hark!

1 Sold. Music i' th' air.

3 Sold. Under the earth.

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