Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. |
|
Enter CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUS, CHARMIAN, and IRAS. |
Cleo. What shall we do, Enobarbus? |
Eno. Think, and die. |
Cleo. Is Antony or we, in fault for this? |
Eno. Antony only, that would make his will |
Lord of his reason. What though you fled |
From that great face of war, whose several ranges |
Frighted each other, why should he follow? |
The itch of his affection should not then |
Have nick'd his captainship; at such a point, |
When half to half the world oppos'd, he being |
The mered question. 'Twas a shame no less |
Than was his loss, to course your flying flags, |
And leave his navy gazing. |
Cleo. Prithee, peace. |
|
Enter ANTONY, with EUPHRONIUS. |
Ant. Is that his answer? |
Euph. Ay, my lord. |
Ant. The queen shall then have courtesy, so she |
Will yield us up? |
Euph. He says so. |
Ant. Let her know 't. |
To the boy Cæsar send this grizzled head, |
And he will fill thy wishes to the brim |
With principalities. |
Cleo. That head, my lord? |
Ant. To him again. Tell him he wears the rose |
Of youth upon him, from which the world should note |
Something particular; his coin, ships, legions, |
May be a coward's, whose ministers would prevail |
Under the service of a child as soon |
As i' the command of Cæsar: I dare him therefore |
To lay his gay comparisons apart, |
And answer me declin'd, sword against sword, |
Ourselves alone. I'll write it: follow me. [Exeunt ANTONY and EUPHRONIUS. |
Eno. [Aside.] Yes, like enough, high-battled Cæsar will |
Unstate his happiness, and be stag'd to the show |
Against a sworder! I see men's judgments are |
A parcel of their fortunes, and things outward |
Do draw the inward quality after them, |
To suffer all alike. That he should dream, |
Knowing all measures, the full Cæsar will |
Answer his emptiness! Cæsar, thou hast subdu'd |
His judgment too. |
|
Enter an Attendant. |
Att. A messenger from Cæsar. |
Cleo. What! no more ceremony? See! my women; |
Against the blown rose may they stop their nose, |
That kneel'd unto the buds. Admit him, sir. [Exit Attendant. |
Eno. [Aside.] Mine honesty and I begin to square. |
The loyalty well held to fools does make |
Our faith mere folly; yet he that can endure |
To follow with allegiance a fall'n lord, |
Does conquer him that did his master conquer, |
And earns a place i' the story. |
|
Enter THYREUS. |
Cleo. Cæsar's will? |
Thyr. Hear it apart. |
Cleo. None but friends; say boldly. |
Thyr. So, haply, are they friends to Antony. |
Eno. He needs as many, sir, as Cæsar has, |
Or needs not us. If Cæsar please, our master |
Will leap to be his friend; for us, you know |
Whose he is we are, and that is Cæsar's. |
Thyr. So. |
Thus then, thou most renown'd: Cæsar entreats, |
Not to consider in what case thou stand'st, |
Further than he is Cæsar. |
Cleo. Go on; right royal. |
Thyr. He knows that you embrace not Antony |
As you did love, but as you fear'd him. |
Cleo. O! |
Thyr. The scars upon your honour therefore he |
Does pity, as constrained blemishes, |
Not as deserv'd. |
Cleo. He is a god, and knows |
What is most right. Mine honour was not yielded, |
But conquer'd merely. |
Eno. [Aside.] To be sure of that, |
I will ask Antony. Sir, sir, thou'rt so leaky, |
That we must leave thee to thy sinking, for |
Thy dearest quit thee. [Exit. |
Thyr. Shall I say to Cæsar. |
What you require of him? for he partly begs |
To be desir'd to give. It much would please him, |
That of his fortunes you should make a staff |
To lean upon; but it would warm his spirits |
To hear from me you had left Antony, |
And put yourself under his shroud, |
The universal landlord. |
Cleo. What's your name? |
Thyr. My name is Thyreus. |
Cleo. Most kind messenger, |
Say to great Cæsar this: in deputation |
I kiss his conqu'ring hand; tell him, I am prompt |
To lay my crown at 's feet, and there to kneel; |
Tell him, from his all-obeying breath I hear |
The doom of Egypt. |
Thyr. 'Tis your noblest course. |
Wisdom and fortune combating together, |
If that the former dare but what it can, |
No chance may shake it. Give me grace to lay |
My duty on your hand. |
Cleo. Your Cæsar's father oft, |
When he hath mus'd of taking kingdoms in, |
Bestow'd his lips on that unworthy place, |
As it rain'd kisses. |
|
Re-enter ANTONY and ENOBARBUS. |
Ant. Favours, by Jove that thunders! |
What art thou, fellow? |
Thyr. One that but performs |
The bidding of the fullest man, and worthiest |
To have command obey'd. |
Eno. [Aside.] You will be whipp'd. |
Ant. Approach there! Ah, you kite! Now, gods and devils! |
Authority melts from me: of late, when I cried 'Ho!' |
Like boys unto a muss, kings would start forth, |
And cry, 'Your will?' Have you no ears? I am |
Antony yet. |
|
Enter Attendants. |
Take hence this Jack and whip him. |
Eno. [Aside.] 'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp |
Than with an old one dying. |
Ant. Moon and stars! |
Whip him. Were't twenty of the greatest tributaries |
That do acknowledge Cæsar, should I find them |
So saucy with the hand of—she here, what's her name, |
Since she was Cleopatra? Whip him, fellows, |
Till, like a boy, you see him cringe his face |
And whine aloud for mercy; take him hence. |
Thyr. Mark Antony,— |
Ant. Tug him away; being whipp'd, |
Bring him again; this Jack of Cæsar's shall |
Bear us an errand to him. [Exeunt Attendants with THYREUS. |
You were half blasted ere I knew you: ha! |
Have I my pillow left unpress'd in Rome, |
Forborne the getting of a lawful race, |
And by a gem of women, to be abus'd |
By one that looks on feeders? |
Cleo. Good my lord,— |
Ant. You have been a boggler ever: |
But when we in our viciousness grow hard,— |
O misery on't!—the wise gods seel our eyes; |
In our own filth drop our clear judgments; make us |
Adore our errors; laugh at's while we strut |
To our confusion. |
Cleo. O! is't come to this? |
Ant. I found you as a morsel, cold upon |
Dead Cæsar's trencher; nay, you were a fragment |
Of Cneius Pompey's; besides what hotter hours, |
Unregister'd in vulgar fame, you have |
Luxuriously pick'd out; for, I am sure, |
Though you can guess what temperance should be, |
You know not what it is. |
Cleo. Wherefore is this? |
Ant. To let a fellow that will take rewards |
And say 'God quit you!' be familiar with |
My playfellow, your hand; this kingly seal |
And plighter of high hearts. O! that I were |
Upon the hill of Basan, to outroar |
The horned herd; for I have savage cause; |
And to proclaim it civilly were like |
A halter'd neck, which does the hangman thank |
For being yare about him. |
|
Re-enter Attendants, with THYREUS. |
Is he whipp'd? |
First Att. Soundly, my lord. |
Ant. Cried he? and begg'd a' pardon? |
First Att. He did ask favour. |
Ant. If that thy father live, let him repent |
Thou wast not made his daughter; and be thou sorry |
To follow Cæsar in his triumph, since |
Thou hast been whipp'd for following him: henceforth, |
The white hand of a lady fever thee, |
Shake thou to look on't. Get thee back to Cæsar, |
Tell him thy entertainment; look, thou say |
He makes me angry with him; for he seems |
Proud and disdainful, harping on what I am, |
Not what he knew I was: he makes me angry; |
And at this time most easy 'tis to do't, |
When my good stars, that were my former guides, |
Have empty left their orbs, and shot their fires |
Into the abysm of hell. If he mislike |
My speech and what is done, tell him he has |
Hipparchus, my enfranched bondman, whom |
He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture, |
As he shall like, to quit me: urge it thou: |
Hence with thy stripes; be gone! [Exit THYREUS. |
Cleo. Have you done yet? |
Ant. Alack! our terrene moon |
Is now eclips'd; and it portends alone |
The fall of Antony. |
Cleo. I must stay his time. |
Ant. To flatter Cæsar, would you mingle eyes |
With one that ties 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 engender hail, |
And poison it in the source; and the first stone |
Drop in my neck: as it determines; so |
Dissolve my life. The next Cæsarion smite, |
Till by degrees the memory of my womb, |
Together with my brave Egyptians all, |
By the discandying of this pelleted storm, |
Lie graveless, till the flies and gnats of Nile |
Have buried them for prey! |
Ant. I am satisfied. |
Cæsar sits down in Alexandria, where |
I will oppose his fate. Our force by land |
Hath nobly held; our sever'd navy too |
Have knit again, and fleet, threat'ning most sea-like. |
Where hast thou been, my heart? Dost thou hear, lady? |
If from the field I shall return once more |
To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood; |
I and my sword will earn our chronicle: |
There's hope in't yet. |
Cleo. That's my brave lord! |
Ant. I will betreble-sinew'd, hearted, breath'd, |
And fight maliciously; for when mine hours |
Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives |
Of me for jests; but now I'll set my teeth, |
And send to darkness all that stop me. Come, |
Let's have one other gaudy night: call to me |
All my sad captains; fill our bowls once more; |
Let's mock the midnight bell. |
Cleo. It is my birth-day: |
I had thought to have held it poor; but, since 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 so, we'll speak to them; and to-night I'll force |
The wine peep through their scars. Come on, my queen; |
There's sap in't yet. The next time I do fight |
I'll make death love me, for I will contend |
Even with his pestilent scythe. [Exeunt all but ENOBARBUS. |
Eno. Now he'll outstare the lightning. To be furious |
Is to be frighted out of fear, and in that mood |
The dove will peck the estridge; and I see still, |
A diminution in our captain's brain |
Restores his heart. When valour preys on reason |
It eats the sword it fights with. I will seek |
Some way to leave him. [Exit. |
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