Beftow'd his lips on that unworthy place,

As it rain'd kiffes.

Enter Antony, and Enobarbus.

Ant. Favours! by Jove, that thunders.

What art thou, fellow?

[Seeing Thyreus kifs her hand.

Thyr. One that but performs

The bidding of the fullest man, and worthieft
To have command obey'd.

Eno. You will be whipp'd.

Ant. Approach there ah, you kite! now, Gods
and Devils!

Authority melts from me of late.-When I cry'd, hoa!
Like boys unto a mufs, Kings would start forth,
And cry, your will? have you no ears?

I'm Antony yet. Take hence this Jack, and whip him.
Enter Servants.

Eno. 'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp,

Than with an old one dying.

Ant. Moon and ftars!

Whip him :

taries

Were't twenty of the greatest Tribu

That do acknowledge Cæfar, fhould I find them

So fawcy with the hand of She here, (what's her name,

Till, like a boy, you fee him cringe his face,

Since fhe was Cleopatra?)

whip him, fellows

And whine aloud for mercy.

Take him hence.

Thyr. Mark Antony.

Ant. Tug him away; being whipp'd,

Bring him again: this Jack of Cæfar's fhall
Bear us an errand to him.

[Exeunt with Thyreus.

You were half blafted, ere I knew you: ha!
Have I my pillow left unpreft in Rome,
Forborn the getting of a lawful race,
And by a jem of women, to be abus'd
By one that looks on feeders ?

Cleo. Good my Lord,

Ant. You have been a boggler ever.

But

But when we in our viciousness grow hard,
(Oh mifery on't!) the wife Gods feal our eyes
In our own filth, drop our clear judgments, make us
Adore our errors, laugh at's while we ftrut
To our confufion.

Cleo. Oh, is't come to this?

Ant. I found you as a morfel, cold upon
Dead Cafar's trencher: nay, you were a fragment
Of Cneius Pompey's; befides what hotter hours,
Unregiftred in vulgar fame, you have
Luxurioufly pickt out. For, I am sure,

Though you can guess what temperance fhould be,
You know not what it is.

Cleo. Wherefore is this?

Ant. To let a fellow that will take rewards,
And fay, God quit you, be familiar with
My play-fellow, your hand; this kingly feal,
And plighter of high hearts!O that I were
Upon the hill of Bafan, to out-roar

The horned herd, for I have favage cause!
And to proclaim it civilly, were like

A halter'd neck, which does the hangman thank
For being yare about him. Is he whipp'd?

Re-enter a Servant, with Thyreus.

Ser. Soundly my lord.

Ant. Cry'd he and begg'd a' pardon?

Ser. He did ask favour.

Ant. If that thy father live, let him repent

Thou waft not made his daughter; and be thou forry To follow Cæfar in his triumph, fince

Thou hast been whipp'd for following him. Henceforth,
The white hand of a lady feaver thee,

Shake to look on't.- Go, get thee back to Cæfar,
Tell him thy entertainment: look, thou fay,
He makes me angry with him: For he feems
Proud and disdainful, harping on what I am,
Not what he knew I was. He makes me angry;
And, at this time, moft eafie 'tis to do't:
When my good stars, that were my former guides,

Have empty left their orbs, and shot their fires
If he mislike

Into the abyfm of hell.

My fpeech, and what is done, tell him, he has
Hipparchus my enfranchis'd bondman, whom
He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture,
As he shall like, to quit me. Urge it thou:
Hence with thy ftripes, be gone.

Cleo. Have you done yet?

[Exit Thyreus.

Ant. Alack, our terrene moon is now-eclips'd, And it portends alone the fall of Antony.

Cleo. I muft ftay his time.

Ant. To flatter Gefar, would you mingle eyes With one that tyes his points?

Cleo. Not know me yet?

Ant. Cold-hearted toward me!

Cleo. Ah, dear, if I be so,

From my cold heart let heaven ingender hail,
And poifon't in the fource, and the first stone
Drop in my neck; as it determines, fo
Diffolve my life! the next Cæfario fmite!
'Till by degrees the memory of my womb,
Together with my brave Egyptians all,
(26) By the difcandying of this pelletted ftorm,
Lie-gravelefs; 'till the flies and gnats of Nile
Have buried them for prey!

Ant. I'm fatisfied:

Cafar fets down in Alexandria, where
I will oppofe his fate. Our force by land.
Hath nobly held; our fever'd navy too

(26) By the difcattering of this pelletted Storm,] This Reading we owe first, I prefume, to Mr. Rowe: and Mr. Pope has very faithfully fall'n into it. The old Folio's read, difcandering: from which Corruption both Dr. Thirlby and I faw, we must retrieve the Word with which I have reform'd the Text. Cleopatra's Wish is this; that the Gods would ingender Hail, and poyfon it; and that as it fell upon her and her Subjects, and melted, their Lives might determine, as That diffolv'd and difcandied: the congealing of the Water into Hail he metaphorically calls candying: and it is an Image he is fond of, in feveral other Paffages.

. Have knit again, and float, threatning moft fea-like. Where haft thou been, my heart? doft thou hear, lady! If from the field I fhould return once more

To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood;
I and my fword will earn my chronicle;
There's hope in't yet.

Cleo. That's my brave lord.

Ant. I will be treble-finew'd, hearted, breath'd,
And fight malicioufly: for when my hours
Were nice and lucky, men did ransome lives
Of me for jefts; but now I'll fet my teeth,
And fend to darkness all that stop me. Come,
Let's have one other gaudy night: call to me
All my fad captains, fill our bowls; once more
Let's mock the midnight bell.

Cleo. It is my birth-day;

I had thought, t'have held it poor: But fince my lord Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra.

Ant. We will yet do well.

Cleo. Call all his noble captains to my lord.

Ant. Do fo, we'll fpeak to them, and to night I'll
force

The wine peep through their fears. Come on, my Queen;
There's fap in't yet. The next time I do fight,
I'll make death love me: for I will contend
Even with his peftilent scythe.

[Exeunt.

Eno. Now he'll out-ftare the lightning; to be furious,
Is to be frighted out of fear; and, in that mood,
The dove will peck the eftridge; and, I fee still,
A diminution in our captain's brain

Reftores his heart; when valour preys on reafon,
It eats the fword it fights with: I will feek
Some way to leave him.

[Exit.

ACT

ACT IV.

SCENE, Cæfar's Camp.

Enter Cæfar, Agrippa, and Mecænas, with their Army. Cæfar reading a Letter.

CÆSAR.

E calls me boy; and chides, as he had power
To beat me out of Egypt. My messenger

HE

He hath whipt with rods, dares me to perfonal
combat,

Cæfar to Antony. Let the old ruffian know,
I have many other ways to die: mean time,
Laugh at his challenge.

Mec. Cafar must think,

When one fo great begins to rage, he's hunted
Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now
Make boot of his diftraction: never anger
Made good guard for itself.

Caf. Let our best heads

Know that to morrow the laft of many battles
We mean to fight. Within our files there are
Of those that ferv'd Mark Antony but late,
Enough to fetch him in. See, it be done ;
And feaft the army; we have store to do't,
And they have earn'd the wafte. Poor Antony!

[Exeunt.

SCENE, the Palace in Alexandria.

Enter Antony and Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Charmian, Iras, Alexas, with others.

Ant.

E will not fight with me, Domitius.
Eno. No.

HE

Ant. Why fhould he not?

Eno. He thinks, being twenty times of better fortune,

He's