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I laught him into patience; and next morn,
Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed :
Then put my tires and mantles on him, (15) whilft
I wore his fword Philippar. Oh, from Italy;

Enter a Messenger.

Ram thou thy faithful tidings in mine ears,
That long time have been barren.

Mef. Madam! Madam!

Cleo. Antony's dead?
If thou fay fo, villain, thoa killft thy miftress:
But well and free,
If thou fo yield him, there is gold, and here
My bluest veins to kiss : a hand, that Kings
Have lipt, and trembled kisling:

Mes. First, Madam, he is well.

Cleo. Why, there's more gold. But, firrah, mark, we use To say, the dead are well: bring it to that, The gold, I give thee, will I melt and pour Down thy ill-uttering throat.

Mef. Good Madam, hear me.

Cleo. Well, go to, I will:
But there's no goodness in thy face. If Antony


whilf I wore bis Sword Philippan.) We are not to suppose, nor is there any warrant from Hiftory, that Antony had any par. ticular Sword fo call'd. The dignifying Weapons, in this Sort, is a Cuftom of much more recent Date. This therefore seems a Compliment a pofteriori. We find Antony afterwards, in this Play, boasting of his own Prowess at Philippi. Ant. Yes, my Lord, yes; be at Philippi kept

His Sword e'en like a Dancer, while I strook

The lean and wrinkled Cassius; & c. That was the greatest Action of Antony's Life; and therefore this seems a fine Piece of Flattery, intimating, that his Sword ought to be denominated from that illustrious Battle, in the same manner as modern Heroes in Romance are made to give their Swords pompous Names.


Be free and healthful; why so tart a favour
To trumpet such good tidings ? if not well,
Thon should come like a fury crown’d with snakes,
Not like a formal man.

. Willt please you hear me?
Cleo. I have a mind to strike thee, ere thou speak't;,
Yet, if thou say Antony lives, 'tis well,
Or friends with Cæfar, or not captive to him,
I'll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail
Rich pearls upon thee.
Mej. Madam, he's well.
Cleo. Well said.
Mef. And friends with Cæfar.
Cleo. Thou’rt an honest man.

. Cæfar, and he, are greater friends than ever, Cleo. Make thee a fortune from me. Mes

. But yet, Madam Cleo

. I do not like but yet; it does allay
The good precedence; fy upon but yet ;
But yet is as a jaylor to bring forth
Some monstrous Malefactor. Pr’ythee, friend,
Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear,
The good and bad together : he's friends with Cæfar,
In state of health, thou say'st; and thou say'ft, free.
Mef. Free, Madam! nó : I made no such

report. He's bound unto Octavia.

Cleo. For what good turn?
Mes. For the best turn i'th' bed.
Cleo. I am pale, Charmian.
Mef. Madam, he's married to Octavia.
Cleo. The most infectious pestilence upon thee!

[Strikes him down, Mej. Good Madam, patience. Cleo. Wnat fay you?

[Strikes bin. Hence, horrible villain, or I'll fpurn thine eyes Like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head:

[She hales him up and down. Thou shalt be whipt with wire, and stew'd in brine, Smarting in lingring pickle.


Mes. Gracious Madam,
I, that do bring the news, made not the match.

Cleo. Say, 'tis not so, a province I will give thee,
And make thy fortunes proud : the blow, thou hadft,
Shall make thy peace, for moving me to rage;
And I will boot thee with what gift beside
'Thy modesty can beg.

Mef. He's married, Madam.
Cleo. Rogue, thou hast liv'd too long.

Draws a Dagger.
Mes. Nay, then I'll run :
What mean you, Madam? I'have made no fault.

[Exit. Cbar. Good Madam, keep yourself within yourself, The man is innocent.

Cleo. Some innocents 'scape not the thunderbolt
Melt Ægypt into Nile; and kindly creatures
Turn all to ferpents! call the slave again ;
Though I am mad, I will not bite him ; call.

Char. He is afraid to come.

Cleo. I will not hurt him.
These hands do lack nobility, that they strike
A meaner than myself: "fince I myself
Have given myself the cause. Come hither, Sir.

Re-enter the Messenger.

Though it be honest, it is never good
To bring bad news : give to a gracious message
An host of tongues, but let ill tidings tell
Themselves, when they be felt.

Mes. I have done my duty.

Cleo. Is he married?
I cannot hate thee worfer than I do,

you again fay, Yes.
Mej. He's married, Madam.
Cleo. The Gods confound thee! doft thou hold there ftill?
Mes. Should I lye, Madam ?

Cleo. Oh, I would, thou didft;
So half my Ægypt were submerg'd, and made

A cistern

A cistern for scald snakes! go, get thee hence,
Hadit thou Narcissus in thy face, to me
Thou wouldst appear most ugly: he is married ?

Mes. I crave your Highness' pardon.
Cleo. He is married?

Mej. Take no offence, that I would not offend you ;
To punish me for what you make me do,
Seems much unequal : he's married to Octavia.

Cleo Oh, that his fault should make a knave of thee, That art not what thou'rt sure of !-Get thee hence, The merchandises, thou hast brought from Rome, Are all too dear for me : Lie they upon thy hand, and be undone by 'em !

[Exit Mef-
Char. Good your Highness, patience.
Cleo. In praising Antony, I have disprais'd Cæfar.
Cbar. Many times, Madam.

Cleo. I am paid for it now : lead me froin hence,
I faint; oh Iras, Charmian 'tis no matter.
Go to the fellow, good Alexas, bid him
Report the feature of O&avia, her years,
Her inclination, let him not leave out
The colour of her hair. Bring me word quickly,-
Let him for ever go let him not, Charmian;
Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon,
Th' other way he's a Mars. Bid

you Alexas Bring word, how tall she is : pity me, Charmian, But speak not to me. Lead me to my chamber. [Exeunt.

SCENE changes to the Coast of Italy, near


Enter Pompey and Menas, at ore door, with 'drum and

trumpet : At another, Cæfar, Lepidus, Antony, Enobarbus, Mecænas, Agrippa, with Soldiers marching.

VOUR hoftages I have, fo have you mine;

Pomp. Y And we shall talk before we fight.

Cæs. Most meet,
That first we come to words; and therefore have we
Vol. VII.



Our written purposes before us fent;
Which, if thou hast consider'd, let us know
If 'twill tie up thy discontented sword,
And carry back to Sicily much tall youth,
That else must perish here.

Pump. To you all three,
The Senators alone of this

great world, Chief factors for the Gods -- I do not know, Wherefore my Father should Revengers want, Having a Son and Friends; since Julius Cæjar, (Who at Philippi the good Brutus ghofted,) There faw you labouring for him. What was it, That mov'd pale Cafíus to conspire? and what Made thee, all honour'd, honest Roman Brutus, With the arm’d rest, Courtiers of beauteous freedom, To drench the Capitol, but that they would Have one man, but a man? And that is it, Hath made me rig my Navy: At whose burden The anger'd Ocean foams, with which I meant To scourge th' ingratitude that despightful Rome Cait on my noble Father.

Cas. Take your time.

Ant. Thou canst not fear us, Pompey, with thy fails, We'll speak with thee at sea. At land, thou know'it, How much we do o'er-count thee.

Pomp. At land, indeed,
Thou dost o'er-count me of my Father's house.
But since the cuckow builds not for himself,
Remain in't, as thou may'ft.

Lep. Be pleas'd to tell us,
(For this is from the present,) how you take
The offers we have sent you.

Caf. There's the point.

Ant. Which do not be intreated to, but weigh What it is worth embrac'd.

Cæs. And what may follow
To try a larger fortune.

Pomp. You've made me offer
Of Sicily, Sardinia; and I must
Rid all the sea of Pirates; then to fend


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