His conquering banner shook, from Syria To Lydia, and to Ionia;

Whilst

Ant. Mess.

Antony, thou would'st say,

O, my lord Ant. Speak to me home, mince not the general tongue;

Name Cleopatra as she's call'd in Rome : Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase; and taunt my faults With such full license, as both truth and malice Have power to utter. O, then we bring forth weeds, When our quick winds! lie still; and our ills told us, Is as our earing.2 Fare thee well a while. Mess. At your noble pleasure. [Exit. Ant. From Sicyon how the news? Speak there. 1 Att. The man from Sicyon.-Is there such a one?

2 Att. He stays upon your will.

Ant. Let him appear. These strong Egyptian fetters I must break,

Enter another Messenger.

Or lose myself in dotage.-What are you?
2 Mess. Fulvia thy wife is dead.
Ant.

Where died she?

2 Mess. In Sicyon:
Her length of sickness, with what else more serious
Importeth thee to know, this bears. [Gives a letter.
Ant.
Forbear me.-
[Exit Messenger.
There's a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it:
What our contempts do often hurl from us,
We wish it ours again; the present pleasure,
By revolution lowering, does become
The opposite of itself: she's good, being gone;
The hand could pluck her back, that shov'd her on.
I must from this enchanting queen break off;
Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know,
My idleness doth hatch.-How now! Enobarbus!
Enter Enobarbus.

Eno. What's your pleasure, sir?
Ant. I must with haste from hence.

Eno. Why, then, we kill all our women: We see how mortal an unkindness is to them; if they suffer our departure, death's the word.

Ant. I must be gone.

Eno. Under a compelling occasion, let women die: It were pity to cast them away for nothing though, between them and a great cause, they should be esteemed nothing. Cleopatra, catching but the least noise of this, dies instantly; I have seen her die twenty times upon far poorer moment : I do think, there is mettle in death, which commits some loving act upon her, she hath such a celerity in dying.

Ant. She is cunning past man's thought.

Eno. Alack, sir, no; her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love: We cannot call her winds and waters, sighs and tears; they are greater storms and tempests than almanacs can report: this cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a shower of rain as well as Jove.

Ant. 'Would I had never seen her!

Eno. Fulvia?

Ant. Dead.

Eno. Why, sir, give the gods a thankful sacrifice. When it pleaseth their deities to take the wife of a man from him, it shows to man the tailors of the earth; comforting therein, that when old robes are worn out, there are members to make new. If there were no more women but Fulvia, then had you indeed a cut, and the case to be lamented: this grief is crowned with consolation; your old smock brings forth a new petticoat :--and, indeed, the tears live in an onion, that should water this

sorrow.

Ant. The business she hath broached in the state, Cannot endure my absence.

Eno. And the business you have broached here, cannot be without you; especially that of Cleopatra's, which wholly depends on your abode.

Ant. No more light answers. Let our officers
Have notice what we purpose. I shall break
The cause of our expedience to the queen,
And get her loves to part. For not alone
The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches,
Do strongly speak to us; but the letters too
Of many our contriving friends in Rome
Petition us at home: Sextus Pompeius
Hath given the dare to Cæsar, and commands
The empire of the sea: our slippery people
(Whose love is never link'd to the deserver,
Till his deserts are past,) begin to throw
Pompey the great, and all his dignities,
Upon his son; who, high in name and power,
Higher than both in blood and life, stands up
For the main soldier: whose quality, going on,
The sides o'the world may danger: Much is breed-
ing,

Which, like the courser's hair, hath yet but life,
And not a serpent's poison. Say, our pleasure,
To such whose place is under us, requires
Our quick remove from hence.

Eno. I shall do't.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III-Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas.

Cleo. Where is he? Char.

I did not see him since. Cleo. See where he is, who's with him, what he does ::

I did not send you ;7-If you find him sad,
Say, I am dancing; if in mirth, report
That I am sudden sick: Quick, and return.

[Exit Alex. Char. Madam, methinks, if you did love him dearly,

You do not hold the method to enforce
The like from him.
Cleo.
What should I do, I do not?
Char. In each thing give him way, cross him in
nothing.

Cleo. Thou teachest like a fool: the way to lose him.

Char. Tempt him not so too far: I wish, forbear; In time we hate that which we often fear.

Enter Antony.

Ant. Fulvia is dead.

Cleo.
I am sick, and sullen.
Ant. I am sorry to give breathing to my pur

Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy;
To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit
And keep the turn of tippling with a slave;
To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet
With knaves that smell of sweat: say, this becomes
him,

(As his composure must be rare indeed,

Lep.

To-morrow, Cæsar,

Most noble Cæsar, shalt thou have report
How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea;
And it appears, he is belov'd of those
That only have fear'd Cæsar: to the ports
The discontents4 repair, and men's reports
Give him much wrong'd.

Cæs.
I should have known no less:-
It hath been taught us from the primal state,
That he, which is, was wish'd, until he were;
And the ebb'd man, ne'er lov'd, till ne'er worth love,
Comes dear'd, by being lack'd. This common

body,

Like a vagabond flag upon the stream,

Goes to, and back, lackeying the varying tide,
To rot itself with motion.

Mess.
Cæsar, I bring thee word,
Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates,
Make the sea serve them; which they ear and
wound

With keels of every kind: Many hot inroads
They make in Italy; the borders maritime
Lack blood to think on't, and flush youth revolt:
No vessel can peep forth, but 'tis as soon
Taken as seen: for Pompey's name strikes more,
Than could his war resisted.

Leave thy lascivious wassals.9 When thou once
Wast beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st
Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel
Did famine follow; whom thou fought'st against,
Though daintily brought up, with patience more
Than savages could suffer: Thou didst drink
The stalelo of horses, and the gilded puddlell
Which beasts would cough at: thy palate then did
deign

The roughest berry on the rudest hedge;
Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets,
The barks of trees thou browsed'st; on the Alps
It is reported, thou didst eat strange flesh,
Which some did die to look on: And all this
(It wounds thine honour, that I speak it now,)
Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek
So much as lank'd not.

(1) Levity. (2) Visit him. (3) Consume. (4) Discontented. (5) Endeared by being missed. (6) Plough. (7) Turn pale. (8) Ruddy. (9) Feastings: in the old copy it is vaissailes, e. vassals.

Both what by sea and land I can be able,
To 'front this present time.
Cæs.

Till which encounter, It is my business too. Farewell.

Lep. Farewell, my lord: What you shall know

mean time

SCENE V.-Alexandria. A room in the palace. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Mardian.

Mar. Not in deed, madam; for I can do nothing But what in deed is honest to be done : Yet have I fierce affections, and think, What Venus did with Mars.

Cleo. O Charmian, Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he?

Or does he walk? or is he on his horse?

O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony!
Do bravely, horse! for wot'st thou whom thou
mov'st?

The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm
And burgonet15 of men.-He's speaking now,
Or murmuring, Where's my serpent of old Nile?
For so he calls me; Now I feed myself
With most delicious poison :-Think on me,
That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black,
And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Cæsar,
When thou wast here above the ground, I was
A morsel for a monarch: and great Pompey
Would stand, and make his eyes grow in my brow;
There would he anchor his aspect, and die
With looking on his life.

Cleo. How much unlike art thou Mark Antony ![ Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath With his tinct gilded thee.—

How goes it with my brave Mark Antony?
Alex. Last thing he did, dear queen,
He kiss'd, the last of many doubled kisses,—
This orient pearl;-His speech sticks in my heart.
Cleo. Mine ear must pluck it thence.
Alex.

Good friend, quoth he,
Say, the firm Roman to great Egypt sends
This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot
To mend the petty present, I will piece
Her opulent throne with kingdoms; All the east,
Say thou, shall call her mistress. So he nodded,
And soberly did mount a termagant1 steed,
Who neigh'd so high, that what I would have spoke
Was beastly dumb'd by him.

Cleo.
Alex. Like to the time o'the year between the

What, was he sad, or merry

extremes

He was not sad; for he would shine on those
That make their looks by his he was not merry ;
Which seem'd to tell them, his remembrance lay
In Egypt with his joy but between both;
O heavenly mingle!-Be'st thou sad, or merry,
The violence of either thee becomes;
So does it no man else.-Met'st thou my posts?
Alex. Ay, madam, twenty several messengers:
Why do you send so thick?
Cleo.

Who's born that day
When I forget to send to Antony,
Shall die a beggar.-Ink and paper, Charmian.
Welcome, my good Alexas.-Did I, Charmian,
Ever love Cæsar so?

I shall do well:

Pom. The people love me, and the sea is mine; My power's a crescent, and my auguring hope Says, it will come to the full. Mark Antony In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make No wars without doors: Cæsar gets money, where He loses hearts: Lepidus flatters both, Of both is flatter'd ; but he neither loves, Nor either cares for him. Men. Cæsar and Lepidus Are in the field; a mighty strength they carry. Pom. Where have you this? 'tis false. Men. From Silvius, sir. Pom. He dreams; I know, they are in Rome to

gether,

Looking for Antony: But all charms of love,
Salt Cleopatra, soften thy wan'd2 lip!
Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both!
Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts,
Keep his brain fuming; Epicurean cooks,
Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite;
That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honour,
Even till3 a Lethed dulness.—How
now, Varrius?

Enter Varrius.

Var. This is most certain that I shall deliver: Mark Antony is every hour in Rome Expected; since he went from Egypt, 'tis A space for further travel.

Pom.

I could have given less matter A better ear.-Menas, I did not think, This amorous surfeiter would have don'd his helm3 For such a petty war: his soldiership Is twice the other twain: But let us rear The higher our opinion, that our stirring Can from the lap of Egypt's widow pluck The ne'er lust-wearied Antony. Men. I cannot hope, Cæsar and Antony shall well greet together: His wife, that's dead, did trespasses to Cæsar; His brother warr'd upon him; although, I think, Not mov'd by Antony.

Pom.

I know not, Menas, How lesser enmities may give way to greater. Were't not that we stand up against them all, 'Twere pregnant they should square between themselves;

For they have entertain'd cause enough
To draw their swords: but how the fear of us
May cement their divisions, and bind up
The petty difference, we yet not know.
Be it as our gods will have it! It only stands
Our lives upon, to use our strongest hands.
Come, Menas.

[Exeunt.