University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

Enobarbus and Demetrius.
Dem.

Not send to him, say you?

Enob.

No—he's at his pleasures; and that's
the business of the life of Antony. It were treason
to disturb him.

Dem.
Then let the world run loose, and all things fall
Into their first confusion!—Here I come
Dispatch from Rome, with tidings that might shake him,
Though he were pillar'd as the base of Atlas!

Enob.

I tell you, my worthy friend, while
Antony and Cleopatra are at their revels,
though every minute were hung with the weight
of a province, and every province were to drop

in the want of attention—they would laugh, and
call the music.

Dem.
Antony cannot, sure, be so unsoldier'd;
So deeply an Egyptian!—I do tell you,
His half of this great world, in monstrous cantlets,
Falls hourly from his grasp—There's not a day,
But, in the want of a more powerful hand,
Or wiser head to rule, some new adventurer
Starts up to signiorship—All, all is faction,
All broil and lawless contest; where the scum,
As in a heated cauldron, boils to the top,
And gives us up the vilest of the vile,
To station and command.—You must awake him!

Enob.

Not I, by my troth; let him e'en take
his nap out. Why, what is Antony to me, more
than the world to Antony?

Dem.
I am not known to him; but they do say,
'Twere pity of him!—a most generous master,
A free companion, and a stedfast friend;
And, as they tell me too, for soldiership,
He stands up peerless!

Enob.

The truth is, were he half as wise of his
head, as he is valiant of his hands, you should not
meet his fellow in a ride of five leagues.—Or, did
he love the Commonwealth of Rome, with the
tythe of the passion he has for an Egyptian petticoat,
I would not exchange him, in the article
of government,—no, not for the monarch, whom
Jupiter, in his bounty, sent to the frogs.

Dem.
He must not then be lost.—I tell thee, friend,
He has not fifty followers left in Rome;
And they but wait, or his, or my return,
With their joint interests to support his state,
Or let him tumble!

Enob.

Well, well; in a week or so, if we can
get him apart, we may work wonders.

Dem.
A week?—I will not bide a day, an hour.
I'll back to Rome, and rid me of my errand!
I'll let his friends all know their false dependence!

Enob.

Patience!—the man is not really so much
to blame, as those may imagine who have their
wits about them. He is fettered to Afric with a
stronger chain than that which holds Enceladus.
Not all the filtres, which the hags of Thessaly
compound beneath the moon, may compare with
the power of this Egyptian sorceress. Nor was
the invisible net, in which the strong god of war
was taken, half so subtle as that, in which my
master Antony is now entangled.

Dem.
'Tis strange and pitiful; and so, farewell
To my commission!

Enob.

You are so hasty—a little longer now, I
pray you!—Stay but till you see this wonder of a
woman, that you may have somewhat to talk of
when you grow old.—They are but out in the bay,
and are now on their return.—But hark! a post
comes in.

[A horn sounds, Post enters.

Whence are you, fellow?

Post.
From Parthia, to my lord.

Enob.
What is the news?

Post.
The pacquet tells.

[Gives a bundle.
Enob.
Without, then—keep in waiting.
[Horn sounds, Post enters.
And you, from whence?

Post.
From Sicily, with letters to the emperor.

Enob.
I shall remember.—
Wait within hearing.—Here's thick news, Demetrius.
Another!—

[Horn sounds, Post enters.
Post.
This for the emperor.

[Delivers a pacquet.
Enob.
From whence, I pray you?

Post.
From Sicyon, with deep tidings.

Enob.
The emperor is at hand.—Step you apart,
And tarry within call.

Dem.

That they should come thus thick, each
upon other! 'tis wonderful.

Enob.

The custom, sir, the custom. They
come thus hourly; even as the winds, from all
quarters, and as little regarded. The minions of
Cleopatra take in the several pacquets, from
states, islands, empires; and with these she curls
her hair, or sends them in hampers to her cooks,
to put under the pies, and keep the venison from
scorching.—But look, Demetrius! See where
they come!—The golden Cleopatra and her
Antony, booming, like Amphitrite and her Neptune,
down the spring-tide of pleasure!