Act III. To be desir'd 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 conquʼring 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 mus'd of taking kingdoms in §,
Bestow'd his lips on that unworthy place,

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!

Authority melts from me: Of late, when I cry'd, ho!

Supposed to be an error for deputation, i. e. by
+ Obeyed.

proxy.
Grant me the favour.

Most complete and perfect.

§ Conquering.

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 Jackt, and whip him. 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 tributa

ries

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 Cæsar's shall
Bear us an errand to him.-

[Exeunt Attend. with Thyreus.

You were half blasted ere I knew you:-Ha!
Have I my pillow left unpress'd în Rome,
Forborne the getting of a lawful race,
And by a gem of women, to be abus'd
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 judgements; make us
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 fragment

* Scramble.

+ A term of contempt.

Servants.

§ Close up.

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!-O, 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

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.

Cry'd 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 Cæsar 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 enfranchis'd bondman, whom

* Wantonly.

+ Ready, handy.

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.

Is now eclips'd; and it portends alone

The fall of Antony!

Cleo.

Alack, our terrene + moon

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 sever'd navy too

Have knit again, aud fleet¶, threat'ning 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.

Ant. I will be treble-sinew'd, hearted, breath'd,

* Requite.

That's my brave lord!

Her son by Julius Cæsar.

Float.

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‡; 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.

* Trifling..

↑ Feasting.

Ostrich..