Are newly grown to love: the condemn'd Pompey,
Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace
Into the hearts of such as have not thriv'd
Upon the present state, whose numbers threaten ;
And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge
By any desperate change: My more particular,
And that which most with you should safe* my

Cleo. Though age from folly could not give me

freedom,

It does from childishness :-Can Fulvia diet?
Ant. She's dead, my queen:
Look here, and, at thy sovereign leisure, read
The garboils she awak'd; at the last, best :
See when, and where she died.

Cleo.

O most false love!

Where be the sacred vials thou should'st fill
With sorrowful water? Now, I see, I see,
In Fulvia's death, how mine receiv'd shall be.
Ant. Quarrel no more, but be prepar'd to know
The purposes I bear; which are, or cease,
As you shall give the advice: Now, by the fire
That quickens Nilus' slime §, I go from hence,
Thy soldier, servant; making peace, or war,
As thou affect'st.

Cleo.

Cut my lace, Charmian, come ;

But let it be. I am quickly ill, and well:
So Antony loves.

Ant.

My precious queen, forbear;

And give true evidence to his love, which stands An honourable trial.

Cleo.

So Fulvia told me.

I pr'ythee, turn aside, and weep for her;
Then bid adieu to me, and say, the tears

Belong to Egypt ||: Good now, play one scene

Of excellent dissembling; and let it look

Like perfect honour.
Ant.

You'll heat my blood; no more.

Cleo. You can do better yet; but this is meetly.
Ant. Now, by my sword,-

Cleo.

And target,-Still he mends ;

But this is not the best: Look, pr'ythee, Charmian, How this Herculean Roman does become

The carriage of his chafe*.

Ant.

Cleo. Courteous lord, one

I'll leave you, lady.

word.

Sir, you and I must part, but that's not it:

Sir, you and I have lov'd, but there's not it;

That you know well: Something it is I would,

O, my oblivion † is a very Antony,

And I am all forgotten.

Ant.

But that your royalty

Holds idleness your subject, I should take you

For idleness itself.

Cleo.

'Tis sweating labour,

To bear such idleness so near the heart
As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me;
Since my becomings kill me, when they do not
Eye well to you: Your honour calls you hence ;
Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly,

And all the gods go with you! upon your sword

Sit laurel'd victory! and smooth success

Be strew'd before your feet!

Ant.

Let us go. Come;

Our separation so abides, and flies,
That thou, residing here, go'st yet with me,
And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee.

:

Away.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Rome. An apartment in Cæsar's house.

Enter Octavius Cæsar, Lepidus, and Attendants.

Cæs. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know, It is not Cæsar's natural vice to hate One great competitor*: From Alexandria This is the news; He fishes, drinks, and wastes The lamps of night in revel: is not more manlike Than Cleopatra; nor the queen Ptolemy More womanly than he: hardly gave audience, or Vouchsaf'd to think he had partners: You shall

find there

A man, who is the abstract of all faults

That all men follow.

Lep. I must not think, there are Evils enough to darken all his goodness: His faults, in him, seem as the spots of heaven, More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary, Rather than purchas'd†; what he cannot change, Than what he chooses.

Cæs. You are too indulgent: Let us grant, it

is not

Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy;
To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit
And keep the turn of tippling with a slave;
To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet
With knaves that smell of sweat: say, this becomes

him,

(As his composure must be rare indeed,

Whom these things cannot blemish,) yet must An

tony

No way excuse his soils, when we do bear
So great weight in his lightness †. If he fill'd

His vacancy with his voluptuousness,

Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones,
Call on him* for't: but, to confound † such time,
That drums him from his sport, and speaks as lond
As his own state, and ours,-'tis to be chid

As we rate boys; who, being mature in knowledge,
Pawn their experience to the present pleasure,

And so rebel to judgment.

Lep.

Enter a Messenger.

Here's more news.

Mess. Thy biddings have been done; and every

hour,

Most noble Cæsar, shalt thou have report

How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea;

And it appears, he is belov'd of those

That only have fear'd Cæsar: to the ports

The discontents ‡ repair, and men's reports

Give him much wrong'd.

Cæs.

I should have known no less :

It hath been taught us from the primal state,
That he, which is, was wish'd, until he were ;

And the ebb'd man, ne'er lov'd, till ne'er worth

:

Comes dear'd, by being lack'd§. This common

love,

body,

Like a vagabond flag upon the stream,

Goes to, and back, lackeying the varying tide,

To rot itself with motion.

Mess.

Cæsar, I bring thee word

Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates,

Make the sea serve them; which they ear || and

wound

With keels of every kind: Many hot inroads

They make in Italy; the borders maritime

Lack blood to think on't, and flush** youth

revolt:

No vessel can peep forth, but 'tis as soon

Taken as seen; for Pompey's name strikes more, Than could his war resisted.

Cas.

Antony,

Leave thy lascivious wassels*. When thou once
Wast beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st
Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel
Did famine follow; whom thou fought'st against,
Though daintily brought up, with patience more
Than savages could suffer: Thou didst drink
The stalet of horses, and the gilded puddle‡
Which beasts would cough at: thy palate then did

deign

The roughest berry on the rudest hedge;
Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets,
The barks of trees thou browsed'st; on the Alps,
It is reported, thou didst eat strange flesh,
Which some did lie to look on: And all this
(It wounds thine honour, that I speak it now,)
Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek
So much as lank'd not.

Lep.

It is pity of him.

Cæs. Let his shames quickly Drive him to Rome: 'Tis time we twain Did show ourselves i'the field; and, to that end, Assemble we immediate council: Pompey

Thrives in our idleness.

Lep.

To-morrow, Cæsar,

I shall be furnish'd to inform you rightly
Both what by sea and land I can be able,

To 'front this present time.

Cas.

Till which encounter,

It is my business too. Farewell.

Lep. Farewell, my lord: What you shall know

meantime

Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir,

To let me be partaker.

Cas.

I knew it for my bond §.

Doubt not, sir;

[Exeunt.