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Scar. I had a wound here that was like a T, But now 'tis made an H.

Ant.

They do retire.

Scar. We'll beat 'em into bench-holes; I have yet Room for six scotches more.

Enter EROS.

Eros. They are beaten, sir; and our advantage

serves

For a fair victory.

Scar.

Let us score their backs, And snatch 'em up, as we take hares, behind;

Tis sport to maul a runner.

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Once for thy spritely comfort, and ten-fold
For thy good valour. Come thee on.

Scener

I will reward thee

I'll halt after. [Exeunt.

SCENE VIII.

Under the Walls of Alexandria.

Enter ANTONY, marching; SCARUS, and
Forces.

fr. We have beat him to his camp; Run one
before,

And let the queen know of our guests.-To-morrow,
Before the sun shall see us, we'll spill the blood
That has to-day escap'd. I thank you all;
For doughty-handed are you; and have fought
Not as you serv'd the cause, but as it had been
Each man's like mine; you have shown all Hectors.
Enter the city, clip your wives,' your friends,

clip your wives,] To clip is to embrace.

Tell them your feats; whilst they with joyful tears
Wash the congealment from your wounds, and kiss
The honour'd gashes whole.-Give me thy hand;
[TO SCARUS.

Enter CLEOPATRA, attended.

To this great fairy* I'll commend thy acts,

Make her thanks bless thee.-O thou day o' the

world,

Chain mine arm'd neck; leap thou, attire and all, Through proof of harness' to my heart, and there Ride on the pants triumphing.

Cleo.

Lord of lords!

O infinite virtue! com'st thou smiling from
The world's great snare uncaught?

Ant.

My nightingale, We have beat them to their beds. What, girl?

though grey

Do something mingle with our brown; yet have we
A brain that nourishes our nerves, and can
Get goal for goal of youth." Behold this man;
Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand;-
Kiss it, my warrior:-He hath fought to-day,
As if a god, in hate of mankind, had
Destroy'd in such a shape.

Cleo.

I'll give thee, friend, An armour all of gold; it was a king's.

Ant. He has deserv'd it, were it carbuncled Like holy Phœbus' car.-Give me thy hand;

To this great fairy-] Mr. Upton has well observed, that fairy, which Dr. Warburton and Sir T. Hanmer chantress, comprises the idea of power and beauty. · proof of harness-] i. e. armour of proof.

Arnese, Ital.

6 The world's great snare-] i. e. the war.

explain by InJOHNSON. Harnois, Fr.

7 Get goal for goal of youth.] At all plays of barriers, the boundary is called a goal; to win a goal, is to be a superior in a contest of activity.

Through Alexandria make a jolly march;
Bear our hack'd targets like the men that owe them:
Had our great palace the capacity

To camp this host, we all would sup together;
And drink carouses to the next day's fate,
Which promises royal peril-Trumpeters,
With brazen din blast you the city's ear;
Make mingle with our rattling tabourines ;
That heaven and earth may strike their sounds to-
gether,

Applauding our approach.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IX.

Cæsar's Camp.

Enter ENOBarbus.

Sentinels on their Post.

1 Sold. If we be not reliev'd within this hour, We must return to the court of guard:' The night Is shiny; and, they say, we shall embattle

By the second hour i' the morn.

2 Sold.

A shrewd one to us.

Eno.

This last day was

O, bear me witness, night,

3 Sold. What man is this? 2 Sold.

Stand close, and list to him. Eno. Be witness to me, O thou blessed moon, When men revolted shall upon record

* Bear our hack'd targets like the men that owe them:] i. e. hack'd as much as the men to whom they belong; or perhaps, Bear our hack'd targets with spirit and exultation, such as becomes the brave warriors that own them.

9

tabourines;] A tabourin was a small drum. It is often mentioned in our ancient romances.

the court of guard:] i. e. the guard-room, the place where the guard musters. The same expression occurs again in Othello.

Bear hateful memory, poor Enobarbus did
Before thy face repent!-

1 Sold.

3 Sold.

Hark further.

Enobarbus!

Peace;

Eno. O sovereign mistress of true melancholy, The poisonous damp of night disponge upon me;2 That life, a very rebel to my will,

May hang no longer on me: Throw my heart3
Against the flint and hardness of my fault;
Which, being dried with grief, will break to powder,
And finish all foul thoughts. O Antony,
Nobler than my revolt is infamous,
Forgive me in thine own particular;
But let the world rank me in register
A master-leaver, and a fugitive:

O Antony! O Antony !

2 Sold.

To him.

Let's speak

[Dies.

1 Sold. Let's hear him, for the things he speaks May concern Cæsar.

3 Sold.

Let's do so.

But he sleeps.

1 Sold. Swoons rather; for so bad a prayer as his

Was never yet for sleeping.

2 Sold.

3 Sold. Awake, awake, sir;

2 Sold.

Go we to him.

1 Sold. The hand of death

Hark, the drums

speak to us.

Hear you, sir? hath raught him.* [Drums afar off.

disponge upon me;] i. e. discharge, as a sponge, when squeezed, discharges the moisture it had imbibed. STEEVENS. Throw my heart-] The pathetick of Shakspeare too often ends in the ridiculous. It is painful to find the gloomy dignity of this noble scene destroyed by the intrusion of a conceit so farfetched and unaffecting. JOHNSON.

The hand of death hath raught him.] Raught is the ancient preterite of the verb to reach.

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