Vol.

Not so, my lord.
Bru. Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius.
Thou seest the world, Volumnius, how it goes;
Our enemies have beat us to the pit:
It is more worthy to leap in ourselves,
Than tarry till they push us.
Good Volumnius,
Thou know'st, that we two went to school together;
Even for that our love of old I pray thee,
Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it.
Vol. That's not an office for a friend, my lord.
Alarum still.

Ch. Fly, fly, my lord; there is no tarrying here.
Bru. Farewell to you;-and you;—and you,
Volumnius.-

Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep;
Farewell to thee, too, Strato.-Countrymen,
My heart doth joy, that yet in all my life,
I found no man, but he was true to me.
I shall have glory by this losing day,
More than Octavius, and Mark Antony,
By this vile conquest shall attain unto.
So fare you well at once; for Brutus' tongue
Hath almost ended his life's history:

Night hangs upon mine eyes; my bones would rest.
That have but labor'd to attain this hour.

[Alarum. Cry within, Fly, fly, fly. Cli. Fly, my lord, fly. Bru. Hence; I will follow thee. [Exeunt CLITUS, DARDANIUS, and VOLUMNIUS. I pr'ythee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord: Thou art a fellow of a good respect;

Thy life hath had some snatch of honor in it:
Hold then my sword and turn away thy face,
While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato?
Stra. Give me your hand first: Fare you well,
my lord.

Bru. Farewell, good Strato.-Cæsar, now be still,

I kill'd not thee with half so good a will.

[He runs on his Sword, and dies.

Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me? Stra. Ay, if Messala will prefer me to you. Oct. Do So, Messala.

Mes.

How died my master, Strato! Stra. I held the sword, and he did run on it. Mes. Octavius, then take him to follow thee, That did the latest service to my master.

Ant. This was the noblest Roman of them all: All the conspirators, save only he, Did that they did in envy of great Cæsar; He only, in a general honest thought, And common good to all, made one of them. His life was gentle, and the elements So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up, And say to all the world, This was a man!

Oct. According to his virtue let us use him, With all respect and rites of burial. Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie, Most like a soldier, order'd honorably.— So, call the field to rest: and let's away, To part the glories of this happy day.

1 Receive into my service.

[Exeunt.

Recommend.

Now, for the love of Love, and her soft hours,
Let's not confound the time with conference harsh:
There's not a minute of our lives should stretch
Without some pleasure now: What sport to-night?
Cleo. Hear the ambassadors.
Ant.
Fye, wrangling queen!
Whom every thing becomes, to chide, to laugh,
To weep; whose every passion fully strives

To make itself, in thee, fair and admir'd!
No messenger; but thine and all alone,
To-night, we'll wander through the streets, and note
The qualities of people. Come, my queen;
Last night you did desire it:-Speak not to us.
[Exeunt ANT. and CLEOP. with their Train.
Dem. Is Cæsar with Antonius priz'd so slight?
Phi. Sir, sometimes, when he is not Antony,
He comes too short of that great property
Which still should go with Antony.
Dem.
I am full sorry,
That he approves the common liar, who
Thus speaks of him at Rome: But I will hope
Of better deeds to-morrow. Rest you happy!

SCENE II.-Another Room.

[Exeunt.

Enter CHARMIAN, IRAS, ALEXAS, and a Soothsayer. Char. Lord Alexas, sweet Alexas, most any thing Alexas, almost most absolute Alexas, where's the soothsayer that you praised so to the queen? O, that I knew this husband, which, you say, must change his horns with garlands!

Alex. Soothsayer.

Sooth. Your will?

Alex. You think, none but your sheets are privy to your wishes.

Char. Nay, come, tell Iras hers.
Alex. We'll know ail our fortunes.

Eno. Mine, and most of our fortunes, to-night, shall be-drunk to bed.

Iras. There's a palm presages chastity, if nothing else.

Char. Even as the o'erflowing Nilus presageth famine.

Iras. Go, you wild bedfellow, you cannot sooth

say.

Char. Nay, if an oily palm be not a fruitful prog nostication, I cannot scratch mine ear.-Pr'ythee, tell her but a worky-day fortune.

Sooth. Your fortunes are alike.

Iras. But how? but how? give me particulars. Sooth. I have said.

Iras. Am I not an inch of fortune better than she! Char. Well, if you were but an inch of fortune better than I, where would you choose it? Iras. Not in my husband's nose.

Char. Our worser thoughts heavens mend! Alexas,-come, his fortune, his fortune.-O, let him marry a woman that cannot go, sweet Isis,' I be seech thee! And let her die too, and give him a all follow him laughing to his grave, fifty-fold a worse! and let worse follow worse, till the worst of cuckold! Good Isis, hear me this prayer, though thou deny me a matter of more weight; good Isis, I beseech thee!

Iras. Amen. Dear goddess, hear that prayer of the people! for, as it is a heart-breaking to see a

things?

Sooth. In nature's infinite book of secrecy,

A little I can read.

Char. Good now, some excellent fortune! me be married to three kings in a forenoon, and widow them all: let me have a child at fifty, to whom Herod of Jewry may do homage: find me to marry me with Octavius Cæsar, and companion me with my mistress.

Sooth. You shall outlive the lady whom you serve. Char. O excellent! I love long life better than tigs.

row to behold a foul knave uncuckolded; Therefore, dear Isis, keep decorum, and fortune him accordingly!

Char. Amen.

Cleo. He was disposed to mirth; but on a sudden A Roman thought hath struck him.-Enobarbus Eno. Madam.

Cleo. Seek him and bring him hither. Where's Alexas?

Alex. Here, madam, at your service.—My lord

approaches.

Enter ANTONY, with a Messenger and Attendants.
Cleo. We will not look upon him: Go with us.
[Exeunt CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUS, ALEXAS,
IRAS, CHARMIAN, Soothsayer and Attendants
Mess. Fulvia thy wife first came into the field.
Ant. Against my brother Lucius?
Mess. Ay:

fortune

Than that which is to approach.

Char. Then, belike, my children shall have no names: Pr'ythee, how many boys and wenches must I have?

Sooth. If every of your wishes had a womb,
And fertile every wish, a million.

Char. Out, fool! I forgive thee for a witch.
Shall be bastards.

↑ Consume.

$ Fame.

Whilst

Ant.
Mess.

Antony, thou wouldst say—

O, my lord. Ant. Speak to me home, mince not the general tongue;

Name Cleopatra as she's call'd in Rome;
Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase: and taunt my faults
With such full license, as both truth and malice
Have power to utter. O, then we bring forth
weeds,

When our quick winds lie still; and our ills told us,
Is as our earing Fare thee well a while.
Mess. At your noble pleasure.

[Exit. Ant. From Sicyon how the news? Speak there. 1 Att. The man from Sicyon.-Is there such a one?

2 Att. He stays upon your will. Ant. Let him appear, These strong Egyptian fetters I must break, Enter another Messenger.

Or lose myself in dotage.-What are you? 2 Mess. Fulvia thy wife is dead.

2 Mess. In Sicyon: Her length of sickness, with what else more serious Importeth thee to know, this bears. [ Gives a Letter.

Ant.

Forbear me.-
[Exit Messenger.
There's a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it:
What our contempts do often hurl from us,
We wish it ours again; the present pleasure,
By revolution lowering, does become
The opposite of itself: she's good, being gone;
The hand could pluck her back, that shov'd her on.
I must from this enchanting queen break off;
Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know,
My idleness doth hatch.-How now! Enobarbus!
Enter ENOBARBUS.

Eno. What's your pleasure, sir?
Ant. I must with haste from hence.

Eno. Why then, we kill all our women: We see how mortal an unkindness is to them; if they suffer our departure, death's the word.

Ant. I must be gone.

Eno. Under compelling occasion, let women die: It were pity to cast them away for nothing; though, between them and a great cause, they should be esteemed nothing. Cleopatra, catching but the least noise of this, dies instantly; I have seen her die twenty times upon far poorer moment: I do think, there is mettle in death, which commits some loving act upon her, she hath such a celerity in dying.

Ant. She is cunning past man's thought. Eno. Alack, sir, no; her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love: We cannot call her winds and waters, sighs and tears; they are greater storms and tempests than almanacs can report: this cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a shower of rain as well as Jove.

Ant. 'Would I had never seen her!
Eno. O, sir, you had then left unseen a wonder-

withal, would have discredited your travel. Ant. Fulvia is dead.

Eno. Sir?

Ant. Fulvia is dead. Eno. Fulvia?

Ant. Dead.

Eno. Why, sir, give the gods a thankful sacrifice. When it pleaseth their deities to take the wife of a man from him, it shows to man the tailors of the earth; comforting therein, that when old robes are worn out, there are members to make new. If there were no more women but Fulvia, then had you indeed a cut, and the case to be lamented: this grief is crowned with consolation; your old smock brings forth a new petticoat:—and, indeed, the tears live in an onion, that should water this sorrow.

Ant. The business she hath broached in the state, Cannot endure my absence.

Eno. And the business you have broached here, cannot be without you; especially that of Cleopatra's, which wholly depends on your abode.

Ant. No more light answers. Let our officers Have notice what we propose. I shall break The cause of our expedience' to the queen, And get her love to part. For not alone The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches, Do strongly speak to us: but the letters too Of many our contriving friends in Rome Petition us at home: Sextus Pompeius Hath given the dare to Cæsar, and commands The empire of the sea: our slippery people (Whose love is never link'd to the deserver, Till his deserts are past) begin to throw Pompey the great, and all his dignities, Upon his son; who, high in name and power, Higher than both in blood and life, stands up For the main soldier: whose quality, going on, The sides o'the world may danger. Much is breeding, Which, like the courser's hair, hath yet but life, And not a serpent's poison. Say, our pleasure, To such whose place is under us, requires Our quick remove from hence.

Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAs, and ALEXAS.
Cleo. Where is he?

Char.
I did not see him since.
Cleo. See where he is, who's with him, what he
does:-

I did not send you :-If you find him sad,
Say, I am dancing; if in mirth, report
That I am sudden sick: Quick, and return.

[Exit ALEXAS. Char. Madam, methinks, if you did love him You do not hold the method to enforce dearly, The like from him. Cleo. What should I do, I do not? Char. In each thing give him way, cross him in nothing.

Cleo. Thou teachest like a fool: the way to lose him.
In time we hate that which we often fear.
Char. Tempt him not so too far: I wish, forbear;
Enter ANTONY.

But here comes Antony.
Cleo.
I am sick, and sullen.
Ant. I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose,
Cleo. Help me away, dear Charmian, I shall fall;

• Expedition.
Look as if I did not send you.

Leave.

It cannot be thus long, the sides of nature Will not sustain it.

Ant.

Now, my dearest queen,—
Cleo. Pray you, stand further from me.
Ant.
What's the matter?
Cleo. I know, by that same eye, there's some
good news.

What says the married woman?—You may go;
'Would, she had never given you leave to come!
Let her not say, 'tis I that keep you here,
I have no power upon you; hers you are.
Ant. The gods best know,-
Cleo.

O, never was there queen,
Yet, at the first,

So mightily betray'd!
I saw the treasons planted.

Cleo. Why should I think, you can be mine, and true,

Though you in swearing shake the throned gods,
Who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous madness,
To be entangled with those mouth-made vows,
Which break themselves in swearing!
Ant.
Most sweet queen,-
Cleo. Nay, pray you, seek no color for your going,
But bid farewell, and go: when you sued staying,
Then was the time for words: No going then;-
Eternity was in our lips and eyes;

Bliss in our brows bent; none our parts so poor,
But was a race of heaven; They are so still,
Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world,
Art turn'd the greatest liar.

Cleo. I would, I had thy inches; thou shouldst know,

There were a heart in Egypt.

Ant. Hear me, queen: The strong necessity of time commands Our services awhile; but my full heart Remains in use with you. Our Italy Shines o'er with civil swords: Sextus Pompeius Makes his approaches to the port of Rome: Equality of two domestic powers

Breeds scrupulous faction: The hated, grown to strength,

Are newly grown to love: the condemn'd Pompey,
Rich in his father's honor, creeps apace
Into the hearts of such as have not thrived
Upon the present state, whose numbers threaten ;
And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge
By any desperate change: My more particular,
And that which most with you should safe my
going,

Is Fulvia's death.

Cleo. Though age from folly could not give me
freedom,

It does from childishness:-Can Fulvia die?
Ant. She's dead, my queen:

Look here, and, at thy sovereign leisure, read
The garboils she awaked; at the last, best:
See, when, and where she died.
Cleo.
O most false love!
Where be the sacred vials thou shouldst fill

With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see,
In Fulvia's death, how mine received shall be.
Ant. Quarrel no more, but be prepared to know
The purposes I bear; which are, or cease,
As you shall give the advice: Now, by the fire,
That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence,
Thy soldier, servant; making peace, or war,
As thou affect'st.
Cleo.

Cut my lace, Charmian, come ;-
Smack or flavor.

The arch of our eye-brows. Gate.

a The commotion she occasioned.

I pr'ythee, turn aside, and weep for her;
Then bid adieu to me, and say, the tears
Belong to Egypt: Good now, play one scene
Of excellent dissembling; and let it look
Like perfect honor.

Ant.
You'll heat my blood; no more.
Cleo. You can do better yet; but this is meetly.
Ant. Now by my sword,-
Cleo.

And target,-Still he mends;
But this is not the best: Look, pr'ythee, Charmian,
How this Herculean Roman does become
The carriage of his chafe.'

Ant. I'll leave you, lady. Cleo. Courteous lord, one word. Sir, you and I must part,-but that's not it: Sir, you and I have lov'd,-but there's not it; That you know well: Something it is I would,O, my oblivion' is a very Antony, And I am all forgotten. Ant.

But that your royalty Holds idleness your subject, I should take you For idleness itself.

Cleo.

"Tis sweating labor, To bear such idleness so near the heart As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me; Since my becomings kill me, when they do not Eye well to you: Your honor calls you hence; Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly, And all the gods go with you! upon your sword Sit laurel'd victory! and smooth success Be strew'd before your feet! Ant. Let us go. Come; Our separation so abides and flies, That you, residing here, go'st yet with me, And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee. Away. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-Rome. An Apartment in Cæsar's House.

Enter OCTAVIUS CESAR, LEPIDUS, and Attend

ants.

Cæs. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know It is not Cæsar's natural vice to hate One great competitor: From Alexandria This is the news: He fishes, drinks, and wastes The lamps of night in revel: is not more manlike Than Cleopatra; nor the queen Ptolemy More womanly than he: hardly gave audience, or Vouchsafed to think he had partners: You shall

find there

A man, that is the abstract of all faults
That all men follow.
Lep.
I must not think, there are
Evils enough to darken all his goodness:
His faults, in him, seem as the spots of heaven
More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary,
Rather than purchas'd; what he cannot change,
Than what he chooses.

Cæs. You are too indulgent; Let us grant, it is not
Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy;
To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit
And keep the turn of tippling with a slave;
To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet
With knaves that smell of sweat: say, this becomes
him,