Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

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 Philippan. Oh, from Italy ;-

Enter a Meffenger.

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

[ocr errors]

Mef. Madam! Madam!

Cleo. Antony's dead?

If thou fay fo, villain, thou kill'ft thy miftrefs:
But well and free,

If thou fo yield him, there is gold, and here
My blueft veins to kifs: a hand, that Kings
Have lipt, and trembled kiffing.

Me. Firft, Madam, he is well.

Cleo. Why, there's more gold. But, firrah, mark, we use To fay, 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.

Clea. Well, go to, I will:

But there's no goodness in thy face. If Antony

(15)

whilft

I wore bis Sword Philippan.] We are not to fuppofe, nor is there any Warrant from Hiftory, that Antony had any particular 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, boafting of his own Prowefs at Philippi.

Ant. Yes, my Lord, yes; be at Philippi kept

His Sword e'en like a Dancer, while I ftrook
The lean and wrinkled Caffius; &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 illuftrious Battle, in the same manner as modern Heroes in Romance are made to give their Swords pompous Names.

Be

Be free and healthful; why fo tart a favour
To trumpet fuch good tidings? if not well,
Thou shouldft come like a fury crown'd with fnakes,
Not like a formal man.

Mef. Will't please you hear me?

Cleo. I have a mind to ftrike thee, ere thou speak'it; Yet, if thou fay Antony lives, 'tis well,

Or friends with Cafar, or not captive to him,

I'll fet thee in a fhower of gold, and hail
Rich pearls upon thee.

Mef. Madam, he's well.

Cleo. Well faid.

Mef. And friends with Cafar.

Cleo. Thou'rt an honeft man.

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

Mef. 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 monftrous Malefactor. Pr'ythee, friend,

Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear,

The good and bad together: he's friends with Cafar, In ftate of health, thou fay'ft; and thou say'st, free. Mef. Free, Madam! no: I made no fuch report. He's bound unto Octavia.

Cleo. For what good turn?

Mef. For the best turn i'th' bed.

Cleo. I am pale, Charmian.

Cleo. The most infectious peftilence upon thee!

Mef. Madam, he's married to Octavia.

Mef. Good Madam, patience.

Cleo. What fay you?

[Strikes him down.

[Strikes him.

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 fhalt be whipt with wire, and stew'd in brine,
Smarting in lingring pickle.

Mej

Mef. Gracious Madam,

I, that do bring the news, made not the match.
Cleo. Say, 'tis not fo, 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 befide
'Thy modefty can beg.

Mef. He's married, Madam.

Cleo. Rogue, thou haft liv'd too long.

Mef. Nay, then I'll run :

[Draws a Dagger.

What mean you, Madam? I have made no fault.

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

Cleo. Some innocents 'fcape not the thunderbolt-
Melt Egypt into Nile; and kindly creatures
Turn all to ferpents! call the flave again;

Though I am mad, I will not bite him; call.
Char. He is afraid to come.

Cleo. I will not hurt him.

Thefe hands do lack nobility, that they strike

A meaner than myfelf: fince I myself

Have given myself the cause.

Come hither, Sir.

Re-enter the Meffenger.

Though it be honeft, it is never good

To bring bad news: give to a gracious meffage
An hoft of tongues, but let ill tidings tell
Themselves, when they be felt.

Mef. I have done my duty.

Cleo. Is he married?

I cannot hate thee worfer than I do,

If you again fay, Yes.

Mef. He's married, Madam.

Cleo. The Gods confound thee! doft thou hold there still? Mef. Should I lye, Madam?

Cleo. Oh, I would, thou didft;

So half my Egypt were fubmerg'd, and made

A ciftern

A cistern for fcal'd fnakes! go, get thee hence,
Hadit thou Narciffus in thy face, to me

Thou wouldst appear moft ugly: he is married?.
Mef. I crave your Highness' pardon.

Cleo. He is married?.

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

you;

Cleo Oh, that his fault fhould make a knave of thee, That art not what thou'rt fure of!-Get thee hence, The merchandifes, thou hast brought from Rome, Are all too dear for me:

Lie they upon thy hand, and be undone by 'em!

[Exit Mcf.

Char. Good your Highness, patience.
Cleo. In praifing Antony, I have difprais'd Cæsar.
Char. Many times, Madam.

Cleo. I am paid for it now: lead me from hence,
I faint; oh Iras, Charmiantis no matter.———
Go to the fellow, good Alexas, bid him
Report the feature of Odavia, 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 fhe is: pity me, Charmian,
But speak not to me. Lead me to my chamber. [Exeunt.

SCENE changes to the Coast of Italy, near
Mifenum.

Enter Pompey and Menas, at one door, with drum and trumpet: At another, Cæfar, Lepidus, Antony, Enabarbus, Mecænas, Agrippa, with Soldiers marching.

Pomp. And we shall talk before we fight.
OUR hoftages I have, fo have you mine;

Caf. Moft meet,

That first we come to words; and therefore have we

VOL. VII.

F

Qur

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

Pomp. To you all three,.

The Senators alone of this great world,
Chief factors for the Gods,-I do not know,
Wherefore my Father fhould Revengers want,
Having a Son and Friends; fince Julius Cæfar,
(Who at Philippi the good Brutus ghosted,)
There faw you labouring for him.
What was it,
That mov'd pale Caffius to conspire? and what
Made thee, all honour'd, honeft Roman Brutus,
With the arm'd reft, 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 fcourge th' ingratitude that defpightful Rome
Caft on my noble Father.

Caf. Take your time.

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

Pomp. At land, indeed,

Thou doft o'er-count me of my Father's houfe.
But fince the cuckow builds not for himself,

Remain in't, as thou may'st.

Lep. Be pleas'd to tell us,

(For this is from the prefent,) how you take

The offers we have fent you.

Caf. There's the point.

Ant. Which do not be intreated to, but weigh

What it is worth embrac'd.

Caf. And what may follow

To try a larger fortune.

Pomp. You've made me offer

Of Sicily, Sardinia; and I must

Rid all the fea of Pirates; then to fend

Meafures

« ZurückWeiter »