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Pomp. How shall that be?

Men. But entertain it,
And though you think me poor, I am the man
Will give thee all the world.

Pomp. Hast thou drunk well ?
Men. No, Pompey, I have kept me from the cup.
Thou art, if thou dar'ít be, the earthly Jove :
What e'er the Ocean pales, or Sky inclips,
Is thine, if thou wilt ha't.

Pomp. Shew me which way.
Men. These three World-tharers, these Competitors,
Are in thy Veífel. Let me cut the cable :
And when we are put off, fall to their throats :
All then is thine.

Pomp. Ah, this thou shouldst have done,
And not have spoken on't. In me, 'tis villany;
In thee, 't had been good service : thou muft know,
Tis not my prosit that does lead mine honour;
Mine honour, it: repent, that e'er thy tongue
Hath so betray'd thine act. Being done unknown,
I should have found it afterwards well done;
But must condemn it now. Defift, and drink.

Men. For this,
l'll never follow thy pall’d fortunes more;
Who seeks and will not take, when once 'tis offer'd,
Shall never find it more.

Pomp. This health to Lepidus.
Ant. Bear him ahore, I'll pledge it for him, Pompey.
Eno. Here's to thee, Menas.
Men. Enobarbus, welcome.
Pomp. Fill 'till the Cup be hid.
Eno. There's a strong fellow, Menas.-

[Pointing to Lepidus. Mlen. Why?

Eno. He bears the third part of the world, man! fee’lt not.

Men. The third part then is drunk ;'would, it were all, That it might go on wheels!

Eng. Drink thou, encrease the reels,
Men, Come.


Pomp. This is not an Alexandrian Feaft.

Ant. It ripens towards it ; ftrike the vessels, hoa.
Here is to Cæfar.

Caf. I could well forbear it;
It's monstrous labour when I wash my brain,
And it grows fouler.

Ant. Be a child o'th' time.

Cef. Poffefs it, I'll make answer ; but I had rather Fast from all, four days, than drink so much in one.

Eno. Ha, my brave Emperor, shall we dance now the Ægyptian Bacchanals, and celebrate our Drink?

Pomp. Let's ha't, good Soldier.

Ant. Come, let's all take hands; "Tilt that the conquering wine hath steept our sense In soft and delicate Leibe.

Eno. All take hands : Make battery to our ears with the loud musick, The while I'll place you ; then the Boy shall fing: (16) The Holding every man shall bear, as loud As his strong fides carr volly. [Mufick plays. Enobarbus places them band in hand.

The SON G.
Come, thou Monarch of the Vine,
Plumpy Bacchus, with pink eyne,
In thy vats our cares be drown'd:
With thy grapes our hairs be crown'd!
Cup us, 'till the world go round;
Cup us, 'till the ruorld go round.

(16) The Holding ev'ry Man fall beat as loud,

As bis Atrong Sides con 'volly.) A Boy is design'd here to fing a Song, and all the Company are to join in the Burden, which the Poet ftiles, the Holding. But how were they to beat this with their Sides? If they were, at a certain Part of the Tune, either to have clap'd their Hands, or stamp'd with their Feet, I should have underftood this as Beating. I am persuaded, the Poet


The Holding ev'ry Man fall bear, as loud

As bis frong Sides can volly. The Breaft and Sides are immediately concern'd in straining to fing as loud and forcibly as a Man can.

F 5


Caf. What would you more ? Pompey, good night.

Good Brother,
Let me request you off; our graver,

Frowns at this levity. Gentle Lords, let's part;
You see, we have burnt our cheeks. Strong Enobarbus
Is weaker than the wind; and mine own tongue
Splits what it fpeaks; the wild disguise hath almost
Antickt us all. What needs more words ? good night.
Good Antony, your hand.

Pomp. I'll try you on the shore.
Ant. And Mall, Sir; give's your

Pomp. Oh, Antony, you have my father's house. .
But, what! we're friends ; come down into the boat.

Eno. Take heed you fall not, Menas.

Men. I'll not on thore.
No, to my cabin thefe drums!
These trumpets, flutes! what!
Let Neptune hear, we bid a loud farewel
To these great fellows. Sound, and be hang'd, found out.

[Sound a flourish, with drums.
Eno. Hoo, says 'a! there's my cap.
Men. Hoa! noble Captain, come. (Exeunt.

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SCENE, a Camp in a Part of Syria. Enter Ventidius, as after Conquest ; the dead body of

Pacorus borne before him, Silius, Roman Soldiersa, and Attendants.


and now

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Tow, darting Parthia, art thou struck;

Pleas’d Fortune does of Marcus Crassus' death
Make me revenger. Bear the King's son's body
Before our Hoft; thy Pacorus, Orodes,
Pays this for Marcus Crasus.

Sil. Noble Ventidius,


with Parthian blood thy sword is warm,
The fugitive Parthians follow: Spur through Mediain,
Mefopotamia, and the fhelters whither
The routed fly. So thy grand Captain Antony
Shall set thee on triumphant chariots, and
Pat garlands on thy head.

Ven. Oh Silius, Silius,
I've done enough. A lower place, note well,
May make too great an act : for learn this, Silius,
Better to leave undone, than by our deed
Acquire too high a fame, when he, we serve, 's away.
Casar and Antony have ever won
More in their officer, than person. Soflius,
One of my Place in Syria, his Lieutenant,
For quick accumulation of renown,
Which he atchiev'd by th' minute, loft his Favour.
Who does i'th' wars more than his Captain cạn,
Becomes his Captain's Captain; and ambition,
(The foldier's virtue) rather inakes choice of loss,
Than gain which darkens him.

I could

I could do more to do Antonius good,
But 'twould offend him; and in his offence
Should my performance perish.

Sil. Thou haft, Ventidius, that, without the which A soldier and his sword grants scarce distinction : Thou wilt write to Antony ?,

Ven. I'll humbly fignify what in his name,
That magical word of war, we have effected ;
How with his Banners, and his well-paid Ranks,
The ne'er-yet-beaten Horse of Parthia
We've jaded out o'th' field.

Sil. Where is he now?
Ven. He purposeth to Atbens ; with what haste
The weight we must convey with’s will permit,
We shall
appear before him. On, there;


along. Exeunt.

SCENE changes to Rome.

Enter Agrippa at one door, Enobarbus at another. Agr. HAT, are the brothers parted ?

. with Pompoy,

he is gone.

'The other three are sealing. Ostavia weeps,
To part from Rome : Cæsar is sad : and Lepidus,
Since Pompey's feast, as Menas fays, is troubled
With the


fickness. Agr. 'Tis a noble Lepidus. Eno. A

very fine one; oh, how he loves Cæfar! Agr. Nay, but how dearly he adores Mark Antony ! Eno. Cæsar ? why, he's the Jupiter of men. Agr. What's Antony, the God of Jupiter ? Eno. Speak you of Cæfar? oh! the non-pareil.! Agr. Oh Antony, oh thou Arabian bird! Eno. Would you praise Cafar, fay,Cafar; go no

further. Agr. Indeed, he plied them both with excellent praises.

Eno. But he loves Cæfar best, yet he loves Antony : Ho! hearts, tongues, figure, fcribes, bards, poets, cannot

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