Pomp. How fhall that be?

Men. But entertain it,

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

Pomp. Haft thou drunk well?

Men. No, Pompey, I have kept me from the cup. Thou art, if thou dar'ft 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-fharers, thefe Competitors, Are in thy Veffel. 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 fpoken on't. In me, 'tis villany;
In thee, 't had been good service: thou muft know,
'Tis not my profit that does lead mine honour;
Mine honour, it: repent, that e'er thy tongue
Hath fo betray'd thine act. Being done unknown,
I fhould have found it afterwards well done;
But muft condemn it now. Defift, and drink.
Men. For this,

I'll never follow thy pall'd fortunes more;

Who feeks and will not take, when once 'tis offer'd,
Shall never find it more.

Pomp. This health to Lepidus.

Ant. Bear him afhore, 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.

Men. Why?

[Pointing to Lepidus.

Eno. He bears the third part of the world, man! fee'it not.

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

Eno. Drink thou, encrease the reels.

Men. Come.

Pomp.

Pomp. This is not an Alexandrian Feast.

Ant. It ripens towards it; ftrike the veffels, hoa. Here is to Cafar.

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.

Caf. Poffefs it, I'll make answer; but I had rather Fast from all, four days, than drink fo much in one. Eno. Ha, my brave Emperor, fhall we dance now the Egyptian Bacchanals, and celebrate our Drink ? · Pomp. Let's ha't, good Soldier.

Ant. Come, let's all take hands ;

"Till that the conquering wine hath steept our sense In foft and delicate Lethe.

Eno. All take hands:

Make battery to our ears with the loud mufick,
The while I'll place you; then the Boy fhall fing:
(16) The Holding every man fhall bear, as loud
As his ftrong fides car volly.

[Mufick plays. Enobarbus places them hand 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 world go round.

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

As bis ftrong Sides can volly. A Boy is defign'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 ftamp'd with their Feet, I fhould have underflood this as Beating. I am perfuaded, the Poet

wrote:

The Holding ev'ry Man fhall bear, as loud

As bis ftrong Sides can volly.

The Breaft and Sides are immediately concern'd in ftraining to fing as loud and forcibly as a Man can.

F 5

Caf.

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

Let me request you off; our graver business
Frowns at this levity. Gentle Lords, let's part;
You fee, we have burnt our cheeks. Strong Enobarbus
Is weaker than the wind; and mine own tongue
Splits what it fpeaks; the wild difguife hath almoft
Antickt us all. What needs more words? good night.
Good Antony, your hand.

Pomp. I'll try you on the shore.

Ant. And fhall, Sir; give's your

hand.

Pomp. Oh, Antony, you have my father's houfe.

But, what! we're friends; come down into the boat.
Eno. Take heed you fall not, Menas.

Men. I'll not on fhore.

No, to my cabin

--- thefe drums!

Thefe 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, fays 'a! there's my cap.

Men. Hoa!

ACT

ACT III.

SCENE, a Camp in a Part of Syria.

Enter Ventidius, as after Conqueft; the dead body of Pacorus borne before him, Silius, Roman Soldiers, and Attendants.

VENTIDIU S.

OW, darting Parthia, art thou ftruck; and now Pleas'd Fortune does of Marcus Craffus' death Make me revenger. Bear the King's fon's body Before our Hoft; thy Pacorus, Orodes,

Pays this for Marcus Craffus.

Sil. Noble Ventidius,

Whilft yet with Parthian blood thy fword is warm,
The fugitive Parthians follow: Spur through Media,
Mefopotamia, and the shelters whither

The routed fly. So thy grand Captain Antony
Shall fet thee on triumphant chariots, and

Put 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 ferve, 's away. Cafar and Antony have ever won

More in their officer, than perfon. Soffius,

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 can,
Becomes his Captain's Captain; and ambition,
(The foldier's virtue) rather makes choice of lofs,
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 foldier and his fword grants scarce diftinction: 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 purpofeth to Athens; with what haste The weight we must convey with's will permit, We fhall appear before him. On, there ;

Agr

SCENE changes to Rome.

-país along. [Exeunt.

Enter Agrippa at one door, Enobarbus at another.

WE

HAT, are the brothers parted?
Eno. They have dispatch'd with Pompey,
he is gone.

'The other three are fealing. Octavia weeps,
'To part from Rome: Cafar is fad: and Lepidus,
Since Pompey's feaft, as Menas fays, is troubled
With the green 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. Cafar? 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!

Ene. Would you praife Cafar, fay,Cafar; go no further.

Agr. Indeed, he plied them both with excellent praises. Eno. But he loves Cæfar beft, yet he loves Antony : Ho! hearts, tongues, figure, fcribes, bards, poets, cannot