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 't is a studied, 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.

To this good purpose, that so fairly shows,

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 laid 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.

Cæs.

Great, and increasing; but by sea

He is an absolute master.

Would we had spoke together! Haste we for it;
Yet, ere we put ourselves in arms, despatch we
The business we have talk'd of.

Not sickness should detain me.

[Flourish. Exeunt CÆSAR, ANTONY, and Lepidus.

Mec. Welcome from Egypt, Sir.

Eno. Half the heart of Cæsar, worthy Mecænas! - my honourable friend, Agrippa!

Agr. Good Enobarbus!

Mec. We have cause to be glad, that matters are so well digested. You stay'd well by it in Egypt.

Eno. Ay, Sir; we did sleep day out of countenance, and made the night light with drinking.

Mec. Eight wild boars roasted whole at a breakfast, and but twelve persons there; is this true?

Eno. This was but as a fly by an eagle: we had much more monstrous matter of feast, which worthily deserved noting. Mec. She's a most triumphant lady, if report be square to her.

Eno. When she first met Mark Antony, she pursed up his heart, upon the river of Cydnus.

Agr. There she appeared indeed, or my reporter devised well for her.

Eno. I will tell you.

The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne,

Burn'd on the water: the poop was beaten gold;

Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that

The winds were love-sick with them: the oars were silver;

Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made
The water, which they beat, to follow faster,
As amorous of their strokes. For her own person,
It beggar'd all description: she did lie

In her pavilion, (cloth of gold, of tissue)
O'er-picturing that Venus, where we see,
The fancy out-work nature: on each side her,
Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids,
With diverse-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem
To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
And what they undid, did.

Agr.

O, rare for Antony!
Eno. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides,
So many mermaids, tended her i' the eyes,
And made their bends adornings: at the helm
A seeming mermaid steers; the silken tackle
Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands,
That yarely frame the office. From the barge
A strange invisible perfume hits the sense
Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast
Her people out upon her; and Antony,
Enthron'd i' the market-place, did sit alone,
Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy,
Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too,

And made a gap in nature.

Agr.

Rare Egyptian!

Eno. Upon her landing Antony sent to her, Invited her to supper: she replied,

It should be better he became her guest,

Which she entreated. Our courteous Antony,

Whom ne'er the word of "No" woman heard speak,

Being barber'd ten times o'er, goes to the feast;

And for his ordinary pays his heart

For what his eyes eat only.

Agr.

Royal wench!

She made great Cæsar lay his sword to bed;

He plough'd her, and she cropp'd.

Eno.

I saw her once

Hop forty paces through the public street;

And having lost her breath, she spoke, and panted,
That she did make defect, perfection,

And, breathless, power breathe forth.

Mec. Now Antony must leave her utterly.
Eno. Never; he will not.

Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
Her infinite variety: other women cloy

The appetites they feed, but she makes hungry,
Where most she satisfies: for vilest things
Become themselves in her, that the holy priests
Bless her when she is riggish.

Mec. If beauty, wisdom, modesty, can settle

The heart of Antony, Octavia is

A blessed lottery to him.

The Same. A Room in CÆSAR'S House.

Enter CESAR, ANTONY, OCTAVIA between them; Attendants. Ant. The world, and my great office, will sometimes

Good night, Sir. - My Octavia,

Read not my blemishes in the world's report:

I have not kept my square, but that to come

Shall all be done by the rule. Good night, dear lady.

Good night, Sir.

Cæs. Good night.

[Exeunt CESAR and OCTAVIA.

Enter a Soothsayer.

Ant. Now, sirrah: you do wish yourself in Egypt?

Sooth. Would I had never come from thence, nor you thither! Ant. If you can, your reason?

Sooth. I see it in my motion, have it not in my tongue: but yet hie you to Egypt again.

Ant. Say to me, whose fortunes shall rise higher, Cæsar's, or mine?

is

Therefore, O Antony! stay not by his side:
Thy dæmon, that thy spirit which keeps thee,
Noble, courageous, high, unmatchable,
Where Cæsar's is not; but near him thy angel
Becomes a fear, as being o'erpower'd: therefore,
Make space enough between you.

Ant.

Speak this no more.

Sooth. To none but thee; no more, but when to thee. If thou dost play with him at any game,

Thou art sure to lose; and, of that natural luck,

He beats thee 'gainst the odds: thy lustre thickens,

When he shines by. I say again, thy spirit

Is all afraid to govern thee near him,

But, he away, 't is noble.

Ant.

Get thee gone:

Say to Ventidius, I would speak with him.

H shall to Parthia. Be it art, or hap,
He hath spoken true: the very dice obey him;
And in our sports my better cunning faints
Under his chance: if we draw lots, he speeds:
His cocks do win the battle still of mine,
When it is all to nought; and his quails ever
Beat mine, inhoop'd, at odds. I will to Egyp':
And though I make this marriage for my peace

Exit Soothsayer.