University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Rome. A Room in Lepidus' House.
Enter Lepidus, and Enobarbus.
Lep.
Good Enobarbus, 'tis a worthy deed,
And shall become you well, to entreat your captain
To soft and gentle speech.

Eno.
—I shall entreat him
To answer like himself: if Cæsar move him,
Let Antony look over Cæsar's head,
And speak as loud as Mars. By Jupiter,
Were I the wearer of Antonio's beard,
I would not shave't to-day.

Lep.
—'Tis not a time
For private stomaching.

Eno.
—Every time
Serves for the matter that is then born in't.

Lep.
But small to greater matters must give way.

Eno.
Not if the small come first.

Lep.
—Your speech is passion:
But, pray you, stir no embers up. Here comes
The noble Antony.

Enter Antony, and Canidius.
Eno.
—And yonder Cæsar.

Enter Cæsar, Agrippa, and Mecænas.
Ant.
If we compose well here, to Parthia:—
Hark you, Canidius,—

Cæs.
—I do not know,
Mecænas; ask Agrippa.

Lep.
—Noble friends,
That which combin'd us was most great, and let not
A leaner action rend us. What's amiss,
May it be gently heard: When we debate
Our trivial difference loud, we do commit
Murther in healing wounds: Then, noble partners,
(The rather, for I earnestly beseech)
Touch you the sourest points with sweetest terms,
Nor curstness grow to the matter.

Ant.
—'Tis spoken well:
Were we before our armies, and to fight,
I should do thus.

Cæs.
Welcome to Rome.

Ant.
—Thank you.

Cæs.
—Sit.

Ant.
—Sit, sir.

Cæs.
—Nay, then.

Ant.
I learn, you take things ill, which are not so;
Or, being, concern you not.

Cæs.
—I must be laugh'd at,
If, or for nothing, or a little, I
Should say myself offended; and with you
Chiefly i'the world: more laugh'd at, that I should
Once name you derogately, when to sound your name
It not concern'd me.

Ant.
—My being in Egypt, Cæsar,
What was't to you?

Cæs.
No more than my residing here at Rome
Might be to you in Egypt: Yet, if you there
Did practise on my state, your being in Egypt
Might be my question.

Ant.
—How intend you, practis'd?

Cæs.
You may be pleas'd to catch at mine intent,
By what did here befall me: Your wife, and brother,
Made wars upon me; and their contestation
Was them'd for you, you were the word of war.

Ant.
You do mistake your business; my brother never
Did urge me in his act: I did inquire it;
And have my learning from some true reports

reporters

,
That drew their swords with you. Did he not rather
Discredit my authority with yours;
And make the wars alike against my stomach,
Having alike your cause? Of this, my letters
Before did satisfy you. If you'll patch a quarrel,
(As matter whole you have not to make it with)
It must not be with this.

Cæs.
—You praise yourself,
By laying to me defects of judgment: but
You patch'd up your excuses.

Ant.
—Not so, not so:
I know you could not lack, I am certain on't,
Very necessity of this thought, That I,
Your partner in the cause 'gainst which he fought,
Could not with grateful eyes attend those wars
Which 'fronted mine own peace. As for my wife,
I would you had her spirit in such another:
The third o'the world is yours; which with a snaffle
You may pace easy, but not such a wife.

Eno.

'Would we had all such wives, that the men
might go to wars with the women.

Ant.
So much uncurbable, her garboils, Cæsar,
Made out of her impatience, (which not wanted
Shrewdness of policy too) I grieving grant,
Did you too much disquiet: for that, you must
But say, I could not help it.

Cæs.
—I wrote to you,
When, rioting in Alexandria, you
Did pocket up my letters; and with taunts
Did gibe my missive out of audience.

Ant.
—Sir,
He fell upon me, ere admitted; then
Three Kings I had newly feasted, and did want
Of what I was i'the morning: but, next day,
I told him of myself; which was as much
As to have ask'd him pardon: Let this fellow
Be nothing of our strife; if we contend,
Out of our question wipe him.

Cæs.
—You have broken
The article of your oath; which you shall never
Have tongue to charge me with.

Lep.
—Soft, Cæsar.

Ant.
—No,
Lepidus, let him speak;
The honour is sacred which he talks on now,
Supposing that I lack'd it:—but on, Cæsar;
The article of my oath,—

Cæs.
To lend me arms, and aid, when I requir'd them;
The which you both deny'd.

Ant.
—Neglected, rather;
And then, when poison'd hours had bound me up
From mine own knowledge. As nearly as I may,
I'll play the penitent to you: but mine honesty
Shall not make poor my greatness, nor my power
Work without it: Truth is, that Fulvia,
To have me out of Egypt, made wars here;
For which myself, the ignorant motive, do
So far ask pardon, as befits mine honour
To stoop in such a case.

Lep.
—'Tis nobly spoken.

Mec.
If it might please you, to enforce no further
The griefs between ye: to forget them quite,
Were to remember that the present need
Speaks to atone you.

Lep.
—Worthily spoken, Mecænas.

Eno.

Or, if you borrow one another's love for the
instant, you may, when you hear no more words of
Pompey, return it again: you shall have time to wrangle
in, when you have nothing else to do.

Ant.
Thou art a soldier only; speak no more.

Eno.
That truth should be silent, I had almost forgot.

Ant.
You wrong this presence, therefore speak no more.

Eno.
Go to then; your considerate stone.

Cæs.
I do not much mislike the manner, but
The matter of his speech: for't cannot be,
We shall remain in friendship, our conditions
So differing in their acts. Yet, if I knew
What hoop should hold us stanch, from edge to edge
O'the world I would pursue it.

Agr.
Give me leave, Cæsar,—

Cæs.
—Speak, Agrippa.

Agr.
Thou hast a sister by the mother's side,
Admir'd Octavia: great Mark Antony
Is now a widower.

Cæs.
—Say not so, Agrippa;
If Cleopatra heard you, your reproof
Were well deserv'd of rashness.

Ant.
I am not marry'd, Cæsar: let me hear
Agrippa further speak.

Agr.
To hold you in perpetual amity,
To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts
With an unslipping knot, take Antony
Octavia to his wife: whose beauty claims
No worse a husband than the best of men;
Whose virtue, and whose general graces, speak
That which none else can utter. By this marriage,
All little jealousies, which now seem great,
And all great fears, which now import their dangers,
Would then be nothing: truths would then be tales,
Where now half tales be truths: her love to both
Would, each to other, and all loves to both,
Draw after her. Pardon what I have spoke;
For 'tis a study'd not a present thought,
By duty ruminated.

Ant.
—Will Cæsar speak?

Cæs.
Not 'till he hears how Antony is touch'd
With what is spoke already.

Ant.
—What power is in Agrippa,
If I would say, Agrippa, be it so,
To make this good?

Cæs.
—The power of Cæsar, and
His power unto Octavia.

Ant.
—May I never
To this good purpose, that so fairly shews,
Dream of impediment!—Let me have thy hand:
Further this act of grace; And, from this hour,
The heart of brothers govern in our loves,
And sway our great designs!

Cæs.
—There is my hand.
A sister I bequeath you, whom no brother
Did ever love so dearly: Let her live
To join our kingdoms, and our hearts; and never
Fly off our loves again!

Lep.
—Happily! Amen.

Ant.
I did not think to draw my sword 'gainst Pompey;
For he hath lay'd strange courtesies, and great,
Of late upon me: I must thank him only,
Lest my remembrance suffer ill report;
At heel of that, defy him.

Lep.
—Time calls upon us:
Of us must Pompey presently be sought,
Or else he seeks out us.

Ant.
—Where lies he, Cæsar?

Cæs.
About the mount Misenum.

Ant.
—What's his strength
By land?

Cæs.
—Great, and encreasing: but by sea
He is an absolute master.

Ant.
—So is the fame:
'Would we had spoke together! haste we for it:
Yet, ere we put ourselves in arms, dispatch we
The business we have talk'd of.

Cæs.
—With most gladness;
And do invite you to my sister's view,
Whither straight I'll lead you.

Ant.
—Let us, Lepidus,
Not lack your company.

Lep.
—Noble Antony,
Not sickness should detain me.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.
Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas.
Cle.
Give me some musick; musick, moody food
Of us that trade in love.

att.
—The musick, ho!

Enter Mardian.
Cle.
Let it alone; let us to billiards:—come,
Charmian.

Cha.
—My arm is sore, best play with Mardian.

Cle.
As well a woman with an eunuch play'd,
As with a woman:—Come, you'll play with me, sir?

Mar.
As well as I can, madam.

Cle.
And when good will is shew'd, though't come too short,
The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now:—
Give me mine angle,—We'll to the river: there,
My musick playing far off, I will betray
Tawny-fin'd fishes: my bended hook shall pierce
Their slimy jaws; and, as I draw them up,
I'll think them every one an Antony,
And say, Ah, ha! you're caught.

Cha.
—'Twas merry, when
You wager'd on your angling; when your diver
Did hang a salt-fish on his hook, which he
With fervency drew up.

Cle.
—That time!—O times!
I laugh'd him out of patience; and that night
I laugh'd him into patience: and next morn,
Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed;
Then put my tires and mantles on him, whilst
I wore his sword Philippan. O, from Italy;—
Enter a Messenger.
Rain thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears,
That long time have been barren.

Mes.
—Madam, madam,—

Cle.
Antony's dead:—If thou say so,
Villain, thou kill'st thy mistress: but well, and free,
If thou so yield him, there is ‡ gold, and here
My bluest veins to kiss; a hand, that Kings
Have lip'd, and trembl'd kissing.

Mes.
First, madam, he is well.

Cle.
Why, there's more ‡ gold. But, sirrah, mark; We use
To say, the dead are well: bring it to that,
The gold, I give thee, will I melt, and pour
Down thy ill-uttering throat.

Mes.
Good madam, hear me.

Cle.
—Well, go to, I will;
But there's no goodness in thy face: If Antony
Be free, and healthful, Why so tart a favour
To trumpet such good tidings? If not well,
Thou should'st come like a fury crown'd with snakes,
Not like a formal man.

Mes.
—Wilt please you hear me?

Cle.
I have a mind to strike thee, ere thou speak'st:
Yet if thou say, Antony lives, is well,
Or friends with Cæsar, or not captive to him,
I'll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail
Rich pearls upon thee.

Mes.
—Madam, he's well.

Cle.
—Well said.

Mes.
And friends with Cæsar.

Cle.
—Thou'rt an honest man.

Mes.
Cæsar and he are greater friends than ever.

Cle.
Mark thee a fortune from me.

Mes.
—But yet, madam,—

Cle.
I do not like but yet, it does allay
The good precedence; fie upon but yet:
But yet is as a jailor, to bring forth
Some monstrous malefactor. Prythee, friend,
Pour out thy pack of matter to mine ear,
The good and bad together: He's friends with Cæsar;
In state of health, thou say'st; and, thou say'st, free.

Mes.
Free, madam? no; I made no such report:
He's bound unto Octavia.

Cle.
—I am pale, Charmian.

Mes.
Madam, he's marry'd to Octavia.

Cle.
The most infectious pestilence upon thee!

[strikes him down.
Mes.
Good madam, patience.

Cle.
—What say you? [striking him again.]
Hence,
Horrible villain! or I'll spurn thine eyes
Like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head:
[hales him up and down.
Thou shalt be whip'd with wire, and stew'd in brine,
Smarting in lingring pickle.

Mes.
—Gracious madam,
I, that do bring the news, made not the match.

Cle.
Say, 'tis not so, a province I will give thee,
And make thy fortunes proud: the blow thou had'st
Shall make thy peace, for moving me to rage;
And I will boot thee with what gift beside
Thy modesty can beg.

Mes.
—He's marry'd, madam.

Cle.
Rogue, thou hast liv'd too long.

[draws a Dagger.
Mes.
—Nay, then I'll run:—
What mean you, madam? I have made no fault.

[Exit Messenger.
Cha.
Good madam, keep yourself within yourself;
The man is innocent.

Cle.
Some innocents 'scape not the thunder-bolt.—
Melt Egypt into Nile! and kindly creatures
Turn all to serpents!—Call the slave again;
Though I am mad, I will not bite him; call.

Cha.
He is afeard to come.

Cle.
—I will not hurt him:—
These hands do lack nobility, that they strike
A meaner than myself; since I myself
Have giv'n myself the cause.—Come hither, sir:
Re-enter Messenger.
Though it be honest, it is never good
To bring bad news: Give to a gracious message
An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell
Themselves, when they be felt.

Mes.
I have but done my duty.

Cle.
—Is he marry'd?
I cannot hate thee worser than I do,
If thou again say, yes.

Mes.
—He's marry'd, madam.

Cle.
The gods confound thee! dost thou hold there still?

Mes.
Should I lie, madam?

Cle.
—O, I would thou did'st,
So half my Egypt were submerg'd, and made
A cistern for scal'd snakes! Go, get thee hence;
Had'st thou Narcissus in thy face, to me
Thou would'st appear most ugly. He is marry'd?

Mes.
I crave your highness' pardon.

Cle.
—He is marry'd?

Mes.
Take no offence, that I would not offend you:
To punish me for what you make me do,
Seems much unequal: He's marry'd to Octavia.

Cle.
O, that his fault should make a knave of thee,
That say'st but what thou art sure of! Get thee hence:
The merchandize, which thou hast brought from Rome,
Are all too dear for me; Lie they upon thy hand,
And be undone by 'em!

[Exit Messenger.
Cha.
—Good your highness, patience.

Cle.
In praising Antony, I have disprais'd Cæsar.

Cha.
Many times, madam.

Cle.
—I am pay'd for't now.
Lead me from hence,
I faint; O Iras, Charmian,—'Tis no matter:—
Go to the fellow, good Alexas; bid him
Report the feature of Octavia, her years,
Her inclination; let him not leave out
The colour of her hair: bring me word quickly.—
[Exit Alexas.
Let him for ever go:—Let him not, Charmian;
Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon,
The other way's a Mars:—Bid you Alexas
[to Mar.
Bring me word, how tall she is.—Pity me, Charmian,
But do not speak to me. Lead me to my chamber.

SCENE III.

Aboard Pompey's Galley off Misenum.
Under a Pavilion upon Deck, a Banquet set out: Musick: Servants attending. Enter Menas, and Enobarbus, meeting.
Men.

Thy father, Pompey, would ne'er have made this
treaty.—You and I have known, sir.

Eno.
Menas, I think.

Men.
The same, sir.

Eno.
We came hither to fight with you.

Men.
For my part, I am sorry it is turn'd to a drinking.
Pompey doth this day laugh away his fortune.

Eno.
If he do, sure he cannot weep it back again.

Men.

You have said, sir. We look'd not for Mark
Antony here; Pray you, is he marry'd to Cleopatra?

Eno.

Cæsar's sister is called Octavia.

Men.

True, sir; she was the wife of Caius Marcellus.

Eno.

But now she is the wife of Marcus Antonius.

Men.

Pray you, sir,—

Eno.

'Tis true.

Men.

Then is Cæsar, and he, for ever knit together.

Eno.

If I were bound to divine of this unity, I would
not prophesy so.

Men.

I think, the policy of that purpose made more
in the marriage, than the love of the parties.

Eno.

I think so too. But you shall find, the band, that
seems to tie their friendship together, will be the very
strangler of their amity: Octavia is of a holy, cold,
and still conversation.

Men.

Who would not have his wife so?

Eno.

Not he, that himself is not so; which is, Mark
Antony. He will to his Egyptian dish again: then shall
the sighs of Octavia blow the fire up in Cæsar; and, as I
said before, that, which is the strength of their amity,
shall prove the immediate author of their variance.
Antony will use his affection where it is; he marry'd
but his occasion here.

Men.

And thus it may be. Come, sir, we have healths
for you.

Eno.

I shall take'em, sir: we have us'd our throats in Egypt.

Musick. Enter Cæsar, Antony, Lepidus, Pompey, and Others.

Here they come: Some of their plants are ill-rooted already;
the least wind i'the world will blow them down.

Men.
Lepidus is high-colour'd.

Ant.
Thus do they, sir, [to Cæs.]
They take the flow
By certain scales i'the pyramid; they know,
By the height, the lowness, or the mean, if dearth,
Or foizon, follow: The higher Nilus swells,
The more it promises: as it ebbs, the seedsman
Upon the slime and ooze scatters his grain,
And shortly comes to harvest.

Lep.

You've strange serpents there.

Ant.

Ay, Lepidus.

Lep.

Your serpent of Egypt is bred now of your mud
by the operation of the sun: so is your crocodile.

Ant.

They are so.

Pom.

Sit,—and some wine:—A health to Lepidus.

Lep.

I am not so well as I should be; but I'll ne'er out.

Eno.

“Not 'till you have slept; I fear me, you'll
be in 'till then.”

Lep.

Nay, certainly, I have heard the Ptolemies' pyramises
are very goodly things; without contradiction,
I have heard that.

Men.

“Pompey, a word.”

Pom.

—“Say in mine ear; What is't?”

Men.
“Forsake thy seat, I do beseech thee, captain,”
“And hear me speak a word.”

Pom.

“Forbear me 'till anon.”—This wine for Lepidus.

Lep.

What manner o'thing is your crocodile?

Ant.

It is shap'd, sir, like itself; and it is as broad as it
hath breadth: it is just so high as it is, and moves with it's
own organs: it lives by that which nourisheth it; and,
the elements once out of it, it transmigrates.

Lep.

What colour is it of?

Ant.

Of it's own colour too.

Lep.

'Tis a strange serpent.

Ant.

'Tis so, And the tears of it are wet.

Cæs.

“Will this description satisfy him?”

Ant.

“With the health that Pompey gives him, else
he is a very epicure.”

Pom.
Go, hang, sir, hang: [to Men.]
Tell me of that! Away:
Do as I bid you—Where's this cup I call'd for.

Men.
“If for the sake of merit thou wilt hear me,”
“Rise from thy stool.”

Pom.
—I think, thou'rt mad. [rising, and steping aside]
“The matter?”

Men.
“I have ever held my cap off to thy fortunes.”

Pom.
“Thou hast serv'd me with much faith: What's else to say?”—
Be jolly, lords.

Ant.
—These quicksands, Lepidus,
Keep off them, for you sink.

Men.
“Wilt thou be lord of all the world?”

Pom.
—“What say'st thou?”

Men.
“Wilt thou be lord of the whole world? That's twice.”

Pom.
“How should that be?”

Men.
—“But entertain it,”
“And, though thou think me poor, I am the man”
“Will give thee all the world.”

Pom.
—“Thou hast drunk well.”

Men.
“No, Pompey, I have kept me from the cup.”
“Thou art, if thou dar'st be, the earthly Jove:”
“Whate'er the ocean pales, or sky inclips,”
“Is thine, if thou wilt ha't.”

Pom.
—“Shew me which way.”

Men.
“These three world-sharers, these competitors,”
“Are in thy vessel: Let me cut the cable;”
“And, when we are put off, fall to their throats:”
“And then is thine.”

Pom.
—“Ah, this thou should'st have done,”
“And not have spoke of it! In me, 'tis villainy;”
“In thee, 't had been good service. Thou must know,”
“'Tis not my profit that does lead mine honour;”
“Mine honour, it. Repent, that e'er thy tongue”
“Hath so betray'd thine act: Being done unknown,”
“I should have found it afterwards well done;”
“But must condemn it now. Desist, and drink.”

Men.
“For this,”
[looking contemptibly after him.
“I'll never follow thy pall'd fortunes more.”—
“Who seeks, and will not take, when once 'tis offer'd,”
“Shall never find it more.”

[joins the Company.
Pom.
This health to Lepidus.

Ant.
—Bear him ashore.—
[to an Attendant.
I'll pledge it for him, Pompey.

Eno.
Here's to thee, Menas.

Men.
—Enobarbus, welcome.

Pom.
Fill, 'till the cup be hid.

[Lepidus born off.
Eno.
There's a strong fellow, Menas.

Men.
—Why?

Eno.
—He bears
The third part of the world, man; Seest not?

Men.
The third part then is drunk: 'Would it were all,
That it might go on wheels.

Eno.
Drink thou, encrease the reels.

Men.
Come.

Pom.
This is not yet an Alexandrian feast.

Ant.
It ripens towards it.—Strike the vessels, ho!
Here is to Cæsar.

Cæs.
—I could well forbear't;
It's monstrous labour, when I wash my brain,
And it grows fouler.

Ant.
—Be a child o'the time.

Eno.
Ha, my brave Emperor! [to Ant.]
Shall we dance now
Th' Egyptian bacchanals, and celebrate our drink?

Pom.
Let's ha't, good soldier.

[they rise.
Ant.
—Come, let's all take hands;
'Till that the conquering wine hath steep'd our sense
In soft and delicate lethe.

Eno.
—All take hands.—
Make battery to our ears with the loud musick:—
The while, I'll place you: Then the boy shall sing;
The holding every man shall bear, as loud
As his strong sides can volly.

[Musick plays. Enobarbus places them hand in hand.
SONG.
Come, thou monarch of the vine,
plumpy Bacchus, with pink eyne:
in thy vats our cares be drown'd;
with thy grapes our hairs be crown'd;
cup us, 'till the world go round,
Bur. cup us, 'till the world go round.

Cæs.
What would you more?—Pompey, good night.—Good brother,
Let me request you, off: our graver business
Frowns at this levity.—Gentle lords, let's part;
You see, we have burnt our cheeks: strong Enobarbe
Is weaker than the wine; and mine own tongue
Splits what it speaks: the wild disguise hath almost
Antickt us all. What needs more words? Good night.

[Exeunt Cæsar, and Train.
Pom.
I'll try you on the shore.

Ant.
—And shall, sir.—“I will to Egypt:”
“For though I have made this marriage for my peace,”
“I'the east my pleasure lies.”—Give us your hand.

Pom.
O, Antony, you have my father's house,—
But, what? we are friends again.

[Exeunt Pompey, and Antony.
Eno.
—Take heed you fall not.—
Menas, I'll not on shore.

Men.
—No, to my cabin.—
These drums, these trumpets, flutes,—let Neptune hear
We bid aloud farewel to these great fellows:
Sound, and be hang'd, sound out.

[Flourish of loud Musick.
Eno.
Ho, says 'a!—There's my cap.

Men.
—Ho, noble captain! Come.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.
Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas.
Cle.
Where is the fellow?

Ale.
—Half afeard to come.

Cle.
Go to, go to:—Come hither, sir.

Enter Messenger.
Ale.
—Good majesty,
Herod of Jewry dare not look upon you,
But when you are well pleas'd.

Cle.
—That Herod's head
I'll have: But how? when Antony is gone,
Through whom I might command it.—Come thou near.

Mes.
Most gracious majesty,—

Cle.
—Did'st thou behold
Octavia?

Mes.
—Ay, dread Queen.

Cle.
—Where?

Mes.
—Madam, in Rome
I look'd her in the face; and saw her led
Between her brother and Mark Antony.

Cle.
Is she as tall as me?

Mes.
—She is not, madam.

Cle.
Did'st hear her speak? Is she shrill-tongu'd, or low?

Mes.
Madam, I heard her speak; she is low-voic'd.

Cle.
That's not so good:—he cannot like her long.

Cha.
Like her? O Isis! 'tis impossible.

Cle.
I think so, Charmian: Dull of tongue, and dwarfish!—
What majesty is in her gate? Remember;
If e'er thou look'dst on majesty.

Mes.
—She creeps;
Her motion and her station are as one:
She shews a body, rather than a life;
A statue, than a breather.

Cle.
—Is this certain?

Mes.
Or I have no observance.

Cha.
—Three in Egypt
Cannot make better note.

Cle.
—He's very knowing,
I do perceive't:—There's nothing in her yet:—
The fellow has good judgment.

Cha.
—Excellent.

Cle.
Guess at her years, I prythee.

Mes.
—Her years, madam?
She was a widow:

Cle.
—Widow?—Charmian, hark.

Mes.
And I do think, she's thirty.

Cle.
—Bear'st thou her face
In mind? is't long, or round?

Mes.
—Round, even to faultiness.

Cle.
For the most part too, they are foolish that are so.—
Her hair, what colour?

Mes.
—Brown, madam: And her forehead
As low as she would wish it.

Cle.
—There's ‡ gold for thee.
Thou must not take my former sharpness ill:
I will employ thee back again; I find thee
Most fit for business: Go, make thee ready, while
Our letters are prepar'd.

[Exit Messenger.
Cha.
—A proper man.

Cle.
Indeed, he is so: I repent me much,
That so I harry'd him. Why, methinks, by him,
This creature's no such thing.

Cha.
—O, nothing, madam.

Cle.
The man hath seen some majesty, and should know.

Cha.
Hath he seen majesty? Isis else defend,
And serving you so long!

Cle.
I have one thing more to ask him yet, good Charmian:—
But 'tis no matter; thou shalt bring him to me
Where I will write: All may be well enough.

Cha.
I warrant you, madam.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

Rome. A Room in Cæsar's House.
Enter Cæsar, Mecænas, and Agrippa.
Cæs.
Contemning Rome, he did all this: And once,
In Alexandria,—here's ‡ the manner of it,—
I'the market-place, on a tribunal silver'd,
Cleopatra and himself in chairs of gold
Were publickly enthron'd: at the feet, sat
Cæsarion, whom they call my father's son;
And all the unlawful issue, that their lust
Since then hath made between them. Unto her
He gave the 'stablishment of Egypt; made her
Of lower Syria, Cyprus, Lydia,
Absolute Queen.

Mec.
—This in the publick eye?

Cæs.
I'the common shew-place, where they exercise.
His sons he there proclaim'd, The Kings of Kings:
Great Media, Parthia, and Armenia,
He gave to Alexander; to Ptolemy he assign'd
Syria, Cilicia, and Phœnicia: She
In the habiliments of the goddess Isis
That day appear'd; and oft before gave audience,
As 'tis reported, so.

Mec.
—Let Rome be thus
Inform'd.

Agr.
—Who, queasy with his insolence
Already, will their good thoughts call from him.

Cæs.
The peole know it; and have now receiv'd
His accusations.

Agr.
—Whom does he accuse?

Cæs.
Cæsar: and that, having in Sicily
Sextus Pompeius spoil'd, we had not rated him
His part o'the isle: then does he say, he lent me
Some shipping unrestor'd: lastly, he frets,
That Lepidus of the triumvirate
Should de depos'd; and, being, that we detain
All his revenue.

Agr.
—Sir, this should be answer'd.

Cæs.
'Tis done already, and the messenger gone.
I have told him, Lepidus was grown too cruel;
That he his high authority abus'd,
And did deserve his change: for what I have conquer'd,
I grant him part; but then, in his Armenia,
And other of his conquer'd kingdoms, I
Demand the like.

Mec.
—He'll never yield to that.

Cæs.
Nor must not then be yielded to in this.

Enter Octavia, attended.
Oct.
Hail, Cæsar, and my lord! hail, most dear Cæsar!

Cæs.
That ever I shoul call thee, cast-away.

Oct.
You have not call'd me so, nor have you cause.

Cæs.
Why hast thou stoln upon us thus? You come not
Like Cæsar's sister: The wife of Antony
Should have an army for an usher, and
The neighs of horse to tell of her approach,
Long ere she did appear: the trees by the way
Should have born men; and expectation fainted,
Longing for what it had not: nay, the dust
Should have ascended to the roof of heaven,
Rais'd by your populous troops: But you are come
A market-maid to Rome; and have prevented
The oftent of our love, which, left unshewn,
Is often left unlov'd: we should have met you
By sea, and land; supplying every stage
With an augmented greeting.

Oct.
—Good my lord,
To come thus was I not constrain'd, but did it
On my free will. My lord Mark Antony,
Hearing that you prepar'd for war, acquainted
My grieving ear withal; whereon, I beg'd
His paron for return.

Cæs.
—Which soon he granted,
Being an obstruct 'tween his lust and him.

Oct.
Do not say so, my lord.

Cæs.
—I have eyes upon him,
And his affairs come to me on the wind:
Where, say you, he is now?

Oct.
—My lord, in Athens.

Cæs.
No, my most wronged sister; Cleopatra
Hath nodded him to her: He hath giv'n his empire
Up to a whore; who now are levying
The Kings o'the earth for war.

Oct.
—Ah me most wretched!
That have my heart parted betwixt two friends,
That do afflict each other.

Cæs.
—Welcome hither:
Your letters did withhold our breaking forth;
'Till we perceived, both how you were wrong'd,
And we in negligent danger. Cheer your heart:
Be you not troubl'd with the time, which drives
O'er your content these strong necessities;
But let determin'd things to destiny
Hold unbewail'd their way. Welcome to Rome:
Nothing more dear to me. You are abus'd
Beyond the mark of thought: and the high gods,
To do you justice, make them ministers
Of us, and those that love you. Be of comfort;
And ever welcome to us.

Agr.
—Welcome, lady.

Mec.
Welcome, dear madam.
Each heart in Rome does love and pity you:
Only the adulterous Antony, most large
In his abominations, turns you off;
And gives his potent regiment to a trull,
That noises

noses

it against us.

Oct.
—Is it so, sir?

Cæs.
Most certain. Sister, welcome: Pray you now,
Be ever known to patience: My dear'st sister!

[Exeunt.