Alexandria. A Room in CLEOPATRA'S Palace. |
| |
Enter DEMETRIUS and PHILO. |
| Phi. Nay, but this dotage of our general's |
| O'erflows the measure; those his goodly eyes, |
| That o'er the files and musters of the war |
| Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now turn |
| The office and devotion of their view |
| Upon a tawny front; his captain's heart, |
| Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst |
| The buckles on his breast, reneges all temper, |
| And is become the bellows and the fan |
| To cool a gipsy's lust. Look! where they come. |
| |
Flourish. Enter ANTONY and CLEOPATRA, with their Trains; Eunuchs fanning her. |
| Take but good note, and you shall see in him |
| The triple pillar of the world transform'd |
| Into a strumpet's fool; behold and see. |
| Cleo. If it be love indeed, tell me how much. |
| Ant. There's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd. |
| Cleo. I'll set a bourn how far to be belov'd. |
| Ant. Then must thou needs find out new heaven, new earth. |
| |
Enter an Attendant. |
| Att. News, my good lord, from Rome. |
| Ant. Grates me; the sum. |
| Cleo. Nay, hear them, Antony: |
| Fulvia, perchance, is angry; or, who knows |
| If the scarce-bearded Cæsar have not sent |
| His powerful mandate to you, 'Do this, or this; |
| Take in that kingdom, and enfranchise that; |
| Perform 't, or else we damn thee.' |
| Ant. How, my love! |
| Cleo. Perchance! nay, and most like; |
| You must not stay here longer; your dismission |
| Is come from Cæsar; therefore hear it, Antony. |
| Where's Fulvia's process? Cæsar's I would say? both? |
| Call in the messengers. As I am Egypt's queen, |
| Thou blushest, Antony, and that blood of thine |
| Is Cæsar's homager; else so thy cheek pays shame |
| When shrill-tongu'd Fulvia scolds. The messengers! |
| Ant. Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch |
| Of the rang'd empire fall! Here is my space. |
| Kingdoms are clay; our dungy earth alike |
| Feeds beast as man; the nobleness of life |
| Is to do thus; when such a mutual pair [Embracing. |
| And such a twain can do 't, in which I bind, |
| On pain of punishment, the world to weet |
| We stand up peerless. |
| Cleo. Excellent falsehood! |
| Why did he marry Fulvia and not love her? |
| I'll seem the fool I am not; Antony |
| Will be himself. |
| Ant. But stirr'd by Cleopatra. |
| 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 tonight? |
| Cleo. Hear the ambassadors. |
| Ant. Fie, 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 ANTONY and CLEOPATRA, 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! [Exeunt. |
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