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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