University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

Antony enters attended, &c.
Ant.
O, thou day o'the world,
Chain mine arm'd neck, leap thou, attire and all,
Through proof of harness, to my heart!
O Cleopatra!
I should have flown, my love, and have prevented
All tidings of my coming, though my messengers
Had all been Mercuries, the sent of Jove,
And wing'd at head and heel,
But that the grief of your distemperature
Did seize me at Brundusium, my mind's sickness
Weighing my body down—till, all impatient,
I gave commandment to my sad attendants,
To take me up, and cast me in the hold,
And bear my bones, if nothing else, to Egypt!
Not speak, my love?
Why, Cleopatra—what?—
All drown'd in tears?—

Cleo.
Let it be, sir.—'Tis nature's kind relief—

Ant.
A shower in June—'tis full of sunshine, sweet!—

Cleo.
Will you not visit Octavia again suddenly?

Ant.
No more, no more of that—the fault of error!
I pray thee, dearest, speak not, think not of her:
For here I plight thee mine eternal faith,
Never to part, till nature's frame shall sunder.

Cleo.
My Antony, my Antony, my Antony!

[Embraces
Ant.
You're pale, my love; the morning of your cheek
Lacks of its wonted rose; and that thief, sickness,
Has robb'd me of a part of Cleopatra.

Cleo.
No matter, dear; you bring the sovereign balm,
And now, all will be whole again.

Ant.
But—
Mine eyes look round, in vain, for two acquaintance,
Dear as the life that lights them.
Where are my heirs of the world, my sun and moon?
Where my young Cytherea of the isles,
And Hero of the Grannic?

Cleo.
Gone on the way that points toward Pelusium;
Their little hearts beating with expectation
To meet their playfellow.

Ant.
Fly some, and give them note of our arrival.—
How fare ye?
How fare ye, my brave wenches?

Charm.
Thanks to your mightiness!

Iras.
We rejoice to see you!

Ant.
What, shall we to our sports?—I have been famish'd!
All cramp'd and shackled with formalities;
And, with a double and impetuous relish,
I rush to my delights—Shall we have sport?
I am all jovial, as the god of laughter;
Frolic and wild, with boundless joy, as are
The revellers of Bacchus!

Cleo.
Hye, Alexas!
Proclaim a festival, a day of triumph,
Through Alexandria! every door, fly open!
And every house be made a theatre
For freakful masque, and general exultation!
Fill up the public cisterns, to the brim,
With wines of th'Archipelago—He, who shews
A brow of sadness, on the day of Antony,
We do attach him, as a public traitor
To Egypt and our throne!