Messina. A Room in POMPEY'S House. |
| |
Enter POMPEY, MENECRATES, and MENAS. |
| Pom. If the great gods be just, they shall assist |
| The deeds of justest men. |
| Mene. Know, worthy Pompey, |
| That what they do delay, they not deny. |
| Pom. Whiles we are suitors to their throne, decays |
| The thing we sue for. |
| Mene. We, ignorant of ourselves, |
| Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers |
| Deny us for our good; so find we profit |
| By losing of our prayers. |
| Pom. I shall do well: |
| The people love me, and the sea is mine; |
| My powers are crescent, and my auguring hope |
| Says it will come to the full. Mark Antony |
| In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make |
| No wars without doors; Cæsar gets money where |
| He loses hearts; Lepidus flatters both, |
| Of both is flatter'd; but he neither loves, |
| Nor either cares for him. |
| Men. Cæsar and Lepidus |
| Are in the field; a mighty strength they carry. |
| Pom. Where have you this? 'tis false. |
| Men. From Silvius, sir. |
| Pom. He dreams; I know they are in Rome together, |
| Looking for Antony. But all the charms of love, |
| Salt Cleopatra, soften thy wan'd lip! |
| Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both! |
| Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts, |
| Keep his brain fuming; Epicurean cooks |
| Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite, |
| That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honour |
| Even till a Lethe'd dulness! |
| |
Enter VARRIUS. |
| How now, Varrius! |
| Var. This is most certain that I shall deliver: |
| Mark Antony is every hour in Rome |
| Expected; since he went from Egypt 'tis |
| A space for further travel. |
| Pom. I could have given less matter |
| A better ear. Menas, I did not think |
| This amorous surfeiter would have donn'd his helm |
| For such a petty war; his soldiership |
| Is twice the other twain. But let us rear |
| The higher our opinion, that our stirring |
| Can from the lap of Egypt's widow pluck |
| The ne'er-lust-wearied Antony. |
| Men. I cannot hope |
| Cæsar and Antony shall well greet together; |
| His wife that's dead did trespasses to Cæsar, |
| His brother warr'd upon him, although I think |
| Not mov'd by Antony. |
| Pom. I know not, Menas, |
| How lesser enmities may give way to greater. |
| Were 't not that we stand up against them all |
| 'Twere pregnant they should square between themselves, |
| For they have entertained cause enough |
| To draw their swords; but how the fear of us |
| May cement their divisions and bind up |
| The petty difference, we yet not know. |
| Be it as our gods will have 't! It only stands |
| Our lives upon, to use our strongest hands. |
| Come, Menas. [Exeunt. |
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