The Same. Another Room. |
|
Enter ENOBARBUS and EROS, meeting. |
Eno. How now, friend Eros! |
Eros. There's strange news come, sir. |
Eno. What, man? |
Eros. Cæsar and Lepidus have made wars upon Pompey. |
Eno. This is old: what is the success? |
Eros. Cæsar, having made use of him in the wars 'gainst Pompey, presently denied him rivality, would not let him partake in the glory of the action; and not resting here, accuses him of letters he had formerly wrote to Pompey; upon his own appeal, seizes him: so the poor third is up, till death enlarge his confine. |
Eno. Then, world, thou hast a pair of chaps, no more; |
And throw between them all the food thou hast, |
They'll grind the one the other. Where's Antony? |
Eros. He's walking in the garden—thus: and spurns |
The rush that lies before him; cries, 'Fool, Lepidus!' |
And threats the throat of that his officer |
That murder'd Pompey. |
Eno. Our great navy's rigg'd. |
Eros. For Italy and Cæsar. More, Domitius; |
My lord desires you presently: my news |
I might have told hereafter. |
Eno. 'Twill be naught; |
But let it be. Bring me to Antony. |
Eros. Come, sir. [Exeunt. |
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