University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Alexas, Charmian, Iras, and other Egyptians.
Alexas.

O, they went gallantly forth, gay
as the May-bird! every vessel
trimm'd, as to a bridal!—There can be no doubt
of their success.

Charm.

We may to play, then, Alexas. Where
is this Soothsayer, that—

Enobarbus enters.
Enob.

Away with your fooleries!—O, curse
ye, curse ye all!—Sink Egypt, ne'er to rise!

Alexas.

Why, what's the bustle?

Enob.

Mine eyes are blasted! From the Pharos,
I saw it all.—Ye gods and goddesses, even the
whole synod of ye!—

Alexas.
How goes the fight?

Enob.
The fight?—No fight!—Naught, naught, all naught.
Scarce had the lines engaged, and, on my soul,
With vantage for the dotard Antony,
When the Antonias, your Egyptian admiral,
With all her hundred, vilely turn'd the rudder.
The hag of Egypt,
Whom leprosy o'ertake! i' the midst of fight,
Like to a cow in June, the breeze upon her,
Hoists sail, and flies!

Alexas.
What, did all Egypt fly?

Enob.
All Egypt?—Ay!
Twelve plagues on Egypt!—That is not the worst on't.
But, soon as your—what shall I call her?—turn'd her tail,
The noble ruin of her magic, Antony,
Claps on his sea-wing, like a doating mallard,
Leaves the whole fight at height, the world for lost,
And so flies after—Never did I see
An action of such shame!
Experience, manhood, honour, ne'er before
Did violate so itself.

Alexas.
Here comes the emperor.

Enob.
O, look, look!
How he is sunk with shame, a heavier weight
Than that which presses Atlas!—Keep, keep from him!
Go!—

[Exit, driving the others out.

SCENE II.

Antony enters, followed at a distance by some friends and soldiers.
Ant.
Hark—the land bids me tread no more upon it—
It is ashamed to bear me!—O, mine eye
Will never look up to a human face,
With firmness any more.—Come hither, fellows!—
I am so lated in the world, that I
Have lost my way for ever—I have a ship
Laden with gold; take that, divide it—Fly—
And make your peace with Cæsar!

Friends.
Fly, my lord?
Not we.

Ant.
I fled myself; and have instructed cowards
To turn, and shew their shoulders—Leave me, friends!
Leave me—pray go!—for, indeed, I have lost command—
Therefore, I pray you!—
[They go out.
O, Cleopatra, thou hast cut me off
From fellowship, for ever!—
My very hairs do mutiny; for the white
Reprove the brown for rashness, and they them
For cowardice and dotage.—O, alone!
As haunts the wild Behemoth in the forest,
Secrete from every eye!—
Down, down, unpillar'd Antony!
Down with thy star-topt greatness!

[Falls.

SCENE III.

Eros enters first, and speaks to Cleopatra, who is without. Then enter Cleopatra supported by Charmian and Iras.
Eros.
Madam, he is here—
You may enter—pray you now, look!

Cleo.
Stay, stay a little!

[Stops short at entrance.
Ant.
Retrieve it?—
O no—it is impossible!

Eros.
See you here, sir!

Ant.
Downright shameful—
O fye, fye, fye!

Eros.
Nay, gentle madam, to him, comfort him.

Cleo.
Let me stop short—O Juno!—

Ant.
Yes—at Philippi—he did keep his sword,
Like a far-fencer, whilst I struck, at hand,
The lean, but sinewed Cassius—And 'twas I
Gave ending to the Brutus!—This raw youngster
Dealt on lieutenancy, and no practice had
In the deep squares of war—but now—No matter!

Cleo.
Ah, stand by!

Eros.
Most noble sir, regard—the Queen approaches!

Ant.
I have offended reputation, past
Recovery to the end.

Eros.
The Queen, the Queen, sir!

Ant.
The Queen?—
O!—whither hast thou led me, Egypt?—See,
How I convey my shame out of mine eyes,
While I look back on what I left behind,
Now gulph'd in vile dishonour!

[Rises.
Cleo.
O, my lord!
Forgive my fearful sails.—I little thought
That any would have followed.

Ant.
Thou knowest, thou knowest!—

Cleo.
I did not know myself—I dreamt I had courage.
But, when the battle join'd its terrible ranges—
When shouting hosts rent the wild air—then, then!

Ant.
I thought thee slain, or wounded; and, in thee,
The world already lost.—O, thou didst know
My heart was to thy rudder tied by the string,
And thou shouldst tow me after!—O'er my spirit,
Thy full supremacy thou knew'st—and that
Thy beck might, from the bidding of the gods,
Command me!

Cleo.
O—my pardon!

Ant.
Now I must,
Or die, or dodge and palter poorly—I
Who, with the bulk of half the world, play'd wide,
Making and marring fortunes!—Cleopatra,
The world is Cæsar's now—thou hast given it to him!

Cleo.
O, pardon, pardon, pardon!

Ant.
Nay, now, nay—
Fall not a tear! I want not those to sink me.
Love, I am full of lead—Some wine, I pray you;
Wine and our viands!—We'll yet strive, my wench,
To lift our load aloft!—Fortune doth know,
When she bears hard, she finds us at the strongest—
I'll wait you by-and-by.

Cleo.
I will not leave you.

Ant.
Nay, now!—

Cleo.
Well, well; indeed, I have no right;
Your's ought to be the rule.

[Exeunt Cleopatra and Attendants.

SCENE III.

Enter Enobarbus, who stands distant.
Ant.
Ay, who knows?—
That's somewhat, yet—All is not lost by land.
There's firm Canidius, and our legions.—
O Enobarbus!
Had I ta'en thy counsel,
Cæsar had been the mourner.—Where's Canidius?

Enob.
No matter—ask not for him.

Ant.
Ask not for him?

Enob.
My dear, dear master, rear your soul aloft!
Be all yourself, all hero, as you are wont,
When mightiest pressures come—for they do fall
Heavy and thick upon you!

Ant.
I say, where is Canidius?

Enob.
Gone out of call—
At least, the call of Antony—
To Cæsar gone;—he, and your nineteen legions.

Ant.
Spirit of truth!—Canidius?—my friend?
The man these hands have moulded into greatness?
Oh—
Who leave themselves, ought to be left of others.
My conduct has corrupted honest men—
My nineteen veteran legions too?

Enob.
Your nineteen legions.

Ant.
There's the main limb lopt off!

Enob.
I have a pinnace, ready mann'd and moor'd
Beneath the sea-worn beach—Escape and join
Your conquering troops in Parthia!

Ant.
Escape, escape!—shall Antony escape?

Enob.
Not from the arms of Rome, my emperor!
But from the gulph of Egypt—O, escape,
Escape, in haste!

Ant.
Although she hath undone us, it were base,
'Twere base to leave her to the vengeful fangs
Of Cæsar and Octavia.

Enob.
O, my master,
It is not Cleopatra that's in danger—
Beware your proper safety!

Ant.
What dost mean?

Enob.
Think of the terms she may obtain from Cæsar,
Even at a price, no other than the head
Of him, whose world she lost.

Ant.
O, fie, fie!—think not of it.

Enob.
Have you seen the ambassador?

Ant.
Ambassador?

Enob.
Ay.

Ant.
Whose ambassador?

Enob.
Cæsar's.

Ant.
No—when?

Enob.
Now, now—Nay, wonder not;
'Twas not to Antony that Cæsar sent him.
I mark'd him, in his way to the Queen—a smooth
And subtle politician, one Thyræus.—
I watch'd, and heard him crave a secret audience
From Cleopatra.

Ant.
Ha!—

Enob.
This intimation, as a further proof
Of dangerous, tho' dark intent, was sent me
From Cæsar's camp.

[Gives a paper.
Ant.
There is a colour in it.
If that she does but veer
A second from the point!

Enob.
Poor woman!—can you blame her?—She has now,
No other sail to shift.

Ant.
No other?—

Enob.
No.—She cannot chuse.

Ant.
She shall be tested!—Come!

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Cleopatra and Thyræus enter, attended by Alexas, Charmian, Iras, &c.
Cleo.
Who are you, sir?

Thyr.
Thyræus, lady, a chief counsellor
And confident of Cæsar's—Cæsar prays you
To take no wakeful thought for what may fall,
In such conflictions. He himself hath taken
To his own breast the care of Cleopatra.

Cleo.
A courtesy unlook'd for!

Thyr.
For your high person, crown, and dignity,
He holds them as things holy, as a property
Pertaining to the gods.

Cleo.
Unwonted bounty!

Thyr.
To Egypt, and to all you have, elsewhere,
Of royal tenantry, 'tis Cæsar's will
To pile, and not to lessen by the gripe
Of mean deduction.

Cleo.
He speaks, and grants, like one, who is to be
The universal landlord.—Say to Cæsar,
That, in return for this rich world, which I
Took from my Antony and gave to him,
My sole petition is, that he inflict not
The heavy penance of his pique to me,
Upon my innocent people!

Thyr.
So please your highness,
Order for this already is announced
Throughout our hosts—Permit me the fair grace,
To seal the honours of my deputation
Upon this peerless wax!—

Cleo.
Sir—you mistake—this is your Cæsar's hand;
It turn'd the rudder for him!

[Kisses her right hand while Antony enters.
Ant.
Favours!—by Jove, that thunders!—
Who art thou fellow?

Thyr.
One, who does perform
The biddings of the fullest man on earth.

Ant.
Approach there!—
[To Servants without.
Ah, you kite!—Now, gods and dæmons!
Authority melts from me of late—When I cried, hoa!
Like racers to the goal, kings would start forth
And cry, your will?—Have ye no ears?—
I am Antony yet.—Take hence this jack, and whip him!

[Servants enter.
Thyr.
Whip me, my lord?

Ant.
Moon and stars!—whip him.
Were it twenty of the greatest tributaries
That do acknowledge Cæsar, should I find them
So saucy with the hand of—she there!—what's her name,
Since she was Cleopatra?—Whip him, fellows!
Till, like a boy, you see him cringe his face,
And whine for mercy—Take him hence!

Thyr.
Sir, sir, you play with stings—I am patrician;
And, in my deputation, bear the person
And weight of Cæsar.

Ant.
Give the gods a sacrifice!
Whip the boy Cæsar in him!—being whipt,
Bring him again—This jack of Cæsar's shall
Bear us an errand to him.—Drag him away!—

[Exeunt Servants with Thyræus.
Cleo.
Now—what's the matter?—
A spice of the old humour?—

Ant.
Have I my pillow left unpress'd in Italy?
Forborn the getting of a Roman issue,
And by a gem of women; to be abused
By one, who looks on feeders?

Cleo.
O!—is it come to this?

Ant.
To let a fellow, that will take rewards,
And cry heaven quit you, be familiar with
My playfellow, your hand!—O, that I were
Upon the hill of Basan, to outroar
The horned herd—for I have savage cause!
Servant enters with Thyræus.
What, is he whipt?

Serv.
Soundly, my lord.

Ant.
Cried he, and begg'd a pardon?

Serv.
He did ask favour.

Ant.
Henceforth, fellow,
The white hand of a lady fever thee!
Shake to look on it!—
Hence with thy shame—Begone!—

[Exit Thyræus.
Cleo.
Have you done yet?

Ant.
To flatter Cæsar, would you mingle eyes,
With one who doffs his sandals?

Cleo.
Not know me, yet?

Ant.
Cold-hearted tow'rd me!

Cleo.
Ah, dear, if I be so,
Turn, ye stern ministers, my blood to hail,
And strike my heart with death!—This, this vile hand
Was that I gave him, as a thing unvalued,
For having turn'd the rudder from my Antony.

Alexas.
She told him so.

Ant.
No more than so?—I know not why, of late,
This yestiness of temper comes upon me,—
I have wrong'd you, love!—I shame to look upon you!
Withdraw a while—leave me—I pray you leave me,
Until I have admonish'd my wrought spirit,
To more of constancy!

[Exit Cleopatra, &c.

SCENE V.

To Antony Demetrius enters.
Ant.
O fie, O fie—
To such a woman too—the moon o'the world!—
Demetrius?

Dem.
Hye you from Egypt, sir—
You stand in peril!

Ant.
Yet, I stand!

Dem.
O sir!—
I come from Cæsar—

Ant.
Well.

Dem.
To Cleopatra.

Ant.
Again, to Cleopatra?

Dem.
Here, he offers
To piece Arabia, Syria, Palestine,
To Egypt's throne,—so she will send your head!

Ant.
He holds us, still, of price—We thank him for it.

Dem.
I would not have you fall so poorly, Antony!

Ant.
You are Cæsar's servant.

Dem.
One of a number, who, in Cæsar's camp,
Wish, from their souls, that Antony were lord
Of his own spirit!

Ant.
Wouldst thou do a kindness?

Dem.
Most willingly.

Ant.
To Cleopatra, go;
And bring me here her answer—
Thou saw'st me not—take note.

[Exit Demetrius.

SCENE VI.

To Antony, Eros.
Eros.
News, my most noble master!
Your scatter'd navy,
From several points, and pieced once more together,
Now anchors in the bay; and, join'd by Egypt,
May mate, once more, with Cæsar.

Ant.
There is life in't.

Eros.
Your valiant fellows, too, whom false Canidius
Gave up to Cæsar, now return apace,
And croud the market-place.

Ant.
We'll feast them there!—
Give order for it—We will forth ourself,
And chear their honest hearts!

[Exit Eros.

SCENE VII.

To Antony, Demetrius.
Ant.
Return'd so soon?—You had scant audience, sir.

Dem.
Short as her answer.—Having heard, and smiled
A scorn at my proposal—
“The head of Antony?” quoth she—“Tell your master,
“That when he shall have got two worlds to truck—”

Ant.
Two worlds!—ten worlds are in that answer—Sir,
We thank your pains!

Dem.
She is the Cleopatra of the earth!
Farewell, most noble Antony,—the great gods
Have you in keeping!

[Exit Demetrius.

SCENE VIII.

To Antony, Enobarbus.
Enob.
To the east, to the east, my emperor!
Octavia comes, with fifty sail o'the line,
To snatch you from her brother—She, herself,
Will company your escape.

Ant.
I will not go.

Enob.
Not go?
Now, my most precious master, I do pray you,
Leave this bad woman!

Ant.
Bad woman?—Slave and lyar!

Enob.
Ha!—
Slave, Antony, slave?—we chafe, and grow forgetful.

Ant.
Didst thou not swear, even now, that she was false?
O, more than heavenly truth!—than tortured gold,
Come forth with all its weight!—
Go—thou malicious!—thou hast ever been
A boom athwart my current—Thou dost cry,
Escape, escape!—and would'st make me the vile
Associate of thy fears—Hence—fly, brave captain!
Shelter thyself with Cæsar—hence, I say!—

Enob.
I had but two small reasons for my staying—
The one was, that which made all others leave you,
Your misfortunes, Antony.—The second—
No matter for the second reason, Antony!—
You merit not to have it—Fare you well!

[Exit.
Antony walks about discomposed.
Ant.
—Bad woman?—
O, the lyar!—
When will these passions leave me?—
—Fool that he was! he parted me,
When I had destined him, at least, a kingdom,
In quittance of his services—
I am sorry!—Scarus!—

Scarus enters.
Scarus.
My lord!

Ant.
Is Enobarbus gone?

Scarus.
He is, sir.

Ant.
Follow and call him back—Stay yet, a little—
Ar't certain he is gone?

Scarus.
I am, sir.
I met, and ask'd him whither he was bound?—
He put a sudden kerchief to his face,
And sobb'd aloud—to Cæsar!

Ant.
O, I am grown the very strangler
Of those who help'd my breathing—Who went with him?

Scarus.
He went alone, my lord.

Ant.
His treasures, man—
Those he took, certain!

Scarus.
Not any thing, my good lord.

Ant.
Haste, Scarus—take them after.—
Do it—detain no jot—load me ten camels.—
Treble his store!—bear thanks and greetings to him!
My best adieus and prayers, that he may find
A master less ungrateful!

[Exit Scarus.
Ant.
Thy fellow, thy fellow, Enobarbus!—
I must live long for that!

To Antony, Eros.
Eros.
The Queen, my lord,
Does feast your soldiers in the market-place.
They are brave fellows, and become their seams.
They shout it rarely, and do call aloud,
For Antony!

Ant.
There's hope in't yet—
We'll have one other blazing night, my Eros,
Before we die.—Call to me my sad captains.
Set on the banquet—fill our bowls—once more,
Let's mock the midnight bell!

Eros.
That's my brave master!

Ant.
I will be treble sinew'd, hearted, breathed,
And fight maliciously!—I'll set my teeth,
And send to darkness all that stop me!
Come on, my soldier—the next time I fight,
I'll make death envious; for I will contend,
Even with his pestilent scythe!

[Exeunt.