Between the two Camps. |
|
Enter ANTONY and SCARUS, with Forces, marching. |
Ant. Their preparation is to-day by sea; |
We please them not by land. |
Scar. For both, my lord. |
Ant. I would they'd fight i' the fire or i' the air; |
We'd fight there too. But this it is; our foot |
Upon the hills adjoining to the city |
Shall stay with us; order for sea is given, |
They have put forth the haven, |
Where their appointment we may best discover |
And look on their endeavour. [Exeunt. |
|
Enter CÆSAR, and his Forces, marching. |
Cæs. But being charg'd, we will be still by land, |
Which, as I take 't, we shall; for his best force |
Is forth to man his galleys. To the vales, |
And hold our best advantage! [Exeunt. |
|
Re-enter ANTONY and SCARUS. |
Ant. Yet they are not join'd. Where yond pine does stand |
I shall discover all; I'll bring thee word |
Straight how 'tis like to go. [Exit. |
Scar. Swallows have built |
In Cleopatra's sails their nests; the augurers |
Say they know not, they cannot tell; look grimly, |
And dare not speak their knowledge. Antony |
Is valiant, and dejected; and, by starts, |
His fretted fortunes give him hope and fear |
Of what he has and has not. [Alarum afar off, as at a sea-fight. |
|
Re-enter ANTONY. |
Ant. All is lost! |
This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me; |
My fleet hath yielded to the foe, and yonder |
They cast their caps up and carouse together |
Like friends long lost. Triple-turn'd whore! 'tis thou |
Hast sold me to this novice, and my heart |
Makes only wars on thee. Bid them all fly; |
For when I am reveng'd upon my charm, |
I have done all. Bid them all fly; be gone. [Exit SCARUS. |
O sun! thy uprise shall I see no more; |
Fortune and Antony part here; even here |
Do we shake hands. All come to this? The hearts |
That spaniel'd me at heels, to whom I gave |
Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets |
On blossoming Cæsar; and this pine is bark'd, |
That overtopp'd them all. Betray'd I am. |
O this false soul of Egypt! this grave charm, |
Whose eyes beck'd forth my wars, and call'd them home, |
Whose bosom was my crownet, my chief end, |
Like a right gipsy, hath, at fast and loose, |
Beguil'd me to the very heart of loss. |
What, Eros! Eros! |
|
Enter CLEOPATRA. |
Ah! thou spell. Avaunt! |
Cleo. Why is my lord enrag'd against his love? |
Ant. Vanish, or I shall give thee thy deserving, |
And blemish Cæsar's triumph. Let him take thee, |
And hoist thee up to the shouting plebeians; |
Follow his chariot, like the greatest spot |
Of all thy sex; most monster-like, be shown |
For poor'st diminutives, for doits; and let |
Patient Octavia plough thy visage up |
With her prepared nails. [Exit CLEOPATRA. |
'Tis well thou'rt gone, |
If it be well to live; but better 'twere |
Thou fell'st into my fury, for one death |
Might have prevented many. Eros, ho! |
The shirt of Nessus is upon me; teach me, |
Alcides, thou mine ancestor, thy rage; |
Let me lodge Lichas on the horns o' the moon; |
And with those hands, that grasp'd the heaviest club, |
Subdue my worthiest self. The witch shall die: |
To the young Roman boy she hath sold me, and I fall |
Under this plot; she dies for 't. Eros, ho! [Exit. |
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