Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. |
| |
Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN. |
| Cleo. Charmian! |
| Char. Madam! |
| Cleo. Ha, ha! |
| Give me to drink mandragora. |
| Char. Why, madam? |
| Cleo. That I might sleep out this great gap of time |
| My Antony is away. |
| Char. You think of him too much. |
| Cleo. O! 'tis treason. |
| Char. Madam, I trust, not so. |
| Cleo. Thou, eunuch Mardian! |
| Mar. What 's your highness' pleasure? |
| Cleo. Not now to hear thee sing; I take no pleasure |
| In aught a eunuch has. 'Tis well for thee, |
| That, being unseminar'd, thy freer thoughts |
| May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou affections? |
| Mar. Yes, gracious madam. |
| Cleo. Indeed! |
| Mar. Not in deed, madam; for I can do nothing |
| But what in deed is honest to be done; |
| Yet have I fierce affections, and think |
| What Venus did with Mars. |
| Cleo. O Charmian! |
| Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he? |
| Or does he walk? or is he on his horse? |
| O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony! |
| Do bravely, horse, for wot'st thou whom thou mov'st? |
| The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm |
| And burgonet of men. He's speaking now, |
| Or murmuring 'Where's my serpent of old Nile?' |
| For so he calls me. Now I feed myself |
| With most delicious poison. Think on me, |
| That am with Phœbus' amorous pinches black, |
| And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Cæsar, |
| When thou wast here above the ground I was |
| A morsel for a monarch, and great Pompey |
| Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow; |
| There would he anchor his aspect and die |
| With looking on his life. |
| |
Enter ALEXAS. |
| Alex. Sovereign of Egypt, hail! |
| Cleo. How much unlike art thou Mark Antony! |
| Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath |
| With his tinct gilded thee. |
| How goes it with my brave Mark Antony? |
| Alex. Last thing he did, dear queen, |
| He kiss'd, the last of many doubled kisses, |
| This orient pearl. His speech sticks in my heart. |
| Cleo. Mine ear must pluck it thence. |
| Alex. 'Good friend,' quoth he, |
| 'Say, the firm Roman to great Egypt sends |
| This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot, |
| To mend the petty present, I will piece |
| Her opulent throne with kingdoms; all the east, |
| Say thou, shall call her mistress.' So he nodded, |
| And soberly did mount an arm-gaunt steed, |
| Who neigh'd so high that what I would have spoke |
| Was beastly dumb'd by him. |
| Cleo. What! was he sad or merry? |
| Alex. Like to the time o' the year between the extremes |
| Of hot and cold; he was nor sad nor merry. |
| Cleo. O well-divided disposition! Note him, |
| Note him, good Charmian, 'tis the man; but note him: |
| He was not sad, for he would shine on those |
| That make their looks by his; he was not merry, |
| Which seem'd to tell them his remembrance lay |
| In Egypt with his joy; but between both: |
| O heavenly mingle! Be'st thou sad or merry, |
| The violence of either thee becomes, |
| So does it no man else. Mett'st thou my posts? |
| Alex. Ay, madam, twenty several messengers. |
| Why do you send so thick? |
| Cleo. Who's born that day |
| When I forget to send to Antony, |
| Shall die a beggar. Ink and paper, Charmian. |
| Welcome, my good Alexas. Did I, Charmian, |
| Ever love Cæsar so? |
| Char. O! that brave Cæsar. |
| Cleo. Be chok'd with such another emphasis! |
| Say the brave Antony. |
| Char. The valiant Cæsar! |
| Cleo. By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth, |
| If thou with Cæsar paragon again |
| My man of men. |
| Char. By your most gracious pardon, |
| I sing but after you. |
| Cleo. My salad days, |
| When I was green in judgment, cold in blood, |
| To say as I said then! But come, away; |
| Get me ink and paper: |
| He shall have every day a several greeting, |
| Or I'll unpeople Egypt. [Exeunt. |
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