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Octavius C.ksar Marcus Antonius M. Mmil. Lepidus Sextus Pompeius Men As
Mr. Fleetwood. Mr. Garrick, Mr. Blakes. Mr. Austin. Mr. Burton. Mr. Mozeen. Mr. Holland. Mr. Atkins. Mr. Pacher. Mr. Austin. Mr. Berry. Mr. Wilkinson. Mr. Bransby. Mr. Davies. Mr. Blakes. Mr. Burton. Mr. Achman. Mr. Perry. Mr. Burton.
Attendants, Messengers, Officers, SolDiers, Sj-c.
Cleopatra Charmian Ikas Octavia
Mrs. Yates. Miss Hippisley. Miss Mills. Mrs. Glen.
Divers Other Attendants, Soldiers, fyc.
SCENE—dispersed; in several Parts of the Roman Empire.
ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.
ACT THE FIRST.
Enter Thyreus and Dolabella ; sent from Caesar.
Thyr. Nay, but this dotage of our general's O'erflows the measure: those his goodly eyes, That o'er the files and musters of the war Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now turn The office and devotion of their view, Upon a tawny front.—Look, where they come.
Flourish. Enter Antony, Cleopatra, and their
Take but good note, and you shall see in him
Cleo. If it be love, indeed, tell me how much.
on'd. Cleo. I'll set a bourn how far to be belov'd. Ant. Then must thou needs find out new heaven, new earth.
Enter an Attendant.
Attcn. News, my good lord, from Rome.
Ant. It grates me.—The sum.
Cleo. Nay, hear them, Antony: Fulvia, perchance, is angry: Or, who knows If the scarce-bearded Caesar have not sent His powerful mandate to you—" Do this; or this; Take in that kingdom, and infranchise that; Perform't, or else we damn thee."
Ant. How, my love?
Cleo. Perchance! nay, and most like :— You must not stay here longer, your dismission Is come from Caesar; therefore hear it, Antony. Where's Fulvia's process?—Caesar's, I would say?—
Both? Call in the messengers.—As I am Egypt's queen, Thou blushest, Antony; and that blood of thine Is Caesar's homager: so thy cheek pays shame, When shrill-tongu'd Fulvia scolds.—The messengers.
Ant. Let Rome in Tiber melt! and the wide arch
Cleo. Excellent falshood!
Ant. But, stirr'd by Cleopatra,—
Cleo. Hear the ambassadors.
Ant. Fie, wrangling queen! Whom every thing becomes—to chide, to laugh, To weep; whose every passion fully strives To make itself, in thee, fair and admir'd! No messenger, but thine: and all alone, To-night, we'll wander through the streets, and note The qualities of people. Come, my queen; Last night you did desire it.—Speak not to us.
[Exeunt Antony, Cleopatra, and Trains. Dol. Triumphant lady!—Fame, I see, is true. Thyr. Too true: since she first met Mark Antony Upon the river Cydnus, he has been hers.
Dol. There she appear'd indeed; or my reporter Devis'd well for her.
Thyr. I will tell you, sir. The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burnt on the water: the poop was beaten gold; Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that The winds were love-sick with them: the oars were
silver; Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water, which they beat, to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, It beggar'd all description: she did lie In her pavilion (cloth of gold, of tissue), O'er-picturing that Venus, where we see The fancy outwork nature; on each side her Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, With diverse-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool, And what they undid, did. Dol. O, rare for Antony! Thyr. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereids, So many mermaids, tended her i'theeyes, And made their bends adornings: at the helm A seeming mermaid steers; the silken tackle Swells with the touches of those flower-soft hands, That yarely frame the office. From the barge,