Athens. A Room in ANTONY'S House. |
| |
Enter ANTONY and OCTAVIA. |
| Ant. Nay, nay, Octavia, not only that, |
| That were excusable, that, and thousands more |
| Of semblable import, but he hath wag'd |
| New wars 'gainst Pompey; made his will, and read it |
| To public ear: |
| Spoke scantly of me; when perforce he could not |
| But pay me terms of honour, cold and sickly |
| He vented them; most narrow measure lent me; |
| When the best hint was given him, he not took 't, |
| Or did it from his teeth. |
| Oct. O my good lord! |
| Believe not all; or, if you must believe, |
| Stomach not all. A more unhappy lady, |
| If this division chance, ne'er stood between, |
| Praying for both parts: |
| The good gods will mock me presently, |
| When I shall pray, 'O! bless my lord and husband;' |
| Undo that prayer, by crying out as loud, |
| 'O! bless my brother!' Husband win, win brother, |
| Prays, and destroys the prayer; no midway |
| 'Twixt these extremes at all. |
| Ant. Gentle Octavia, |
| Let your best love draw to that point which seeks |
| Best to preserve it. If I lose mine honour |
| I lose myself; better I were not yours |
| Than yours so branchless. But, as you requested, |
| Yourself shall go between's; the mean time, lady, |
| I'll raise the preparation of a war |
| Shall stain your brother; make your soonest haste, |
| So your desires are yours. |
| Oct. Thanks to my lord. |
| The Jove of power make me most weak, most weak, |
| Your reconciler! Wars 'twixt you twain would be |
| As if the world should cleave, and that slain men |
| Should solder up the rift. |
| Ant. When it appears to you where this begins, |
| Turn your displeasure that way; for our faults |
| Can never be so equal that your love |
| Can equally move with them. Provide your going; |
| Choose your own company, and command what cost |
| Your heart has mind to. [Exeunt. |
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