Ant. If that thy father live, let him repent

Thou wast not made his daughter; and be thou sorry To follow Cæsar in his triumph, since

Thou hast been whipped 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 abysm 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 thou;
Hence, with thy stripes; begone.
Cleo. Have you done yet?
Ant.

[Exit THYREUS.

Alack, our terrene moon

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?

Ah, dear, if I be so,

Ant. Cold-hearted toward me?
Cleo.
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 severed navy too

Have knit again, and fleet, threatening most sea-like.
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-sinewed, hearted, breathed,
And fight maliciously; for when mine hours
Were nice and lucky, men did ransom 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 birthday. 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 ANT., CLEO., and Attendants.
Eno. Now he'll outstare the lightning. To be furious,
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 valor preys on reason,
It eats the sword it fights with. I will seek
Some way to leave him.

[Exit.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. Cæsar's Camp at Alexandria.

Enter CESAR, reading a letter; AGRIPPA, MECENAS, and others.

Cæs. He calls me boy; and chides, as he had power

To beat me out of Egypt: my messenger

He hath whipped with rods; dares me to personal combat.
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 many battles
We mean to fight. Within our files there are
Of those that served 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 earned the waste. Poor Antony!

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.

Enter ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUS, CHARMIAN, IRAS, ALEXAS, and others.

Ant. He will not fight with me, Domitius.

Eno.

Ant. Why should he not?

No.

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 honor 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 served me

well,

And kings have been your fellows.

Cleo.

What means this?

Eno. 'Tis one of those odd tricks, which sorrow shoots

Out of the mind.

Ant.
And thou art honest too.
1 wish I could be made so many men;
And all of you clapped up together in
An Antony, that I might do you service,
So good as you have done.

[Aside.

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 suffered 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.

To give them this discomfort?

What mean you, sir,

Look, they weep;

And I, an ass, am onion-eyed; 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.

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,
Where rather I'll expect victorious life,

Than death and honor. 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 day. 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.

Good night to you..

Belike, 'tis but a rumor.

1 Sold.

Well, sir, good night

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

And full of purpose. [Music of hautboys under the stage.

'Tis a brave army,

4 Sold.

Peace, what noise?

1 Sold.

List, list!

1 Sold. Peace, I say. What should this mean?

2 Sold. 'Tis the god Hercules, whom Antony loved,

Now leaves him.

How now? do you hear this? [Several speaking together.
Ay; is't not strange?

1 Sold.
3 Sold. Do you hear, masters? do you hear?

1 Sold. Follow the noise so far as we have quarter; Let's see how't will give off.

Sold. [Several speaking.] Conteut. 'Tis strange.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. The same. A Room in the Palace.

Enter ANTONY and CLEOPATRA; CHARMIAN and others attending.

Ant. Eros! mine armor, Eros!

Cleo.

Sleep a little.

Ant. No, my chuck.-Eros, come mine armor, Eros!

Enter EROS, with armor.

Come, good fellow, put thine iron on.

If fortune be not ours to-day, it is

Because we brave her.- Come.

Cleo.
What's this for?

Nay, I'll help too.