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, Mecanas.

Enob. 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.

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

Ant. You wrong this presence, therefore speak no

more.

Oct, 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 would hold us staunch, from edge to edge O' the world I would pursue it.

Agrip. Give me leave, Cæsar,

Oct. Speak, Agrippa.

Agrip. Thou hast a sister by the mother's side, Admir'd Octavia: great Marc Antony

Is now a widower.

Oet. 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.

Agrip. 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: 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?

Oct. 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?

Oct. The power of Cæsar, and

His power unto Octavia.

Ant. May I never

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!

Oct. 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?

Oct. About the mount Misenum.
Ant. What's his strength

By land?

Oct. Great, and increasing: 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, despatch we
The business we have talk'd of.

Oct. 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.

Cleo. Give me some music; music, moody food Of us that trade in love.

Atten. The music, ho!

Enter MARDIAN.

Cleo. Let it alone; let us to billiards :-come, Charmian.

I'll none now:

Give me mine angle,-we'll to the river: there,
My music playing far off, I will betray
Tawny-finn'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.

Char. '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.

Cleo. 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.

Mess. Madam, madam,—

Cleo. 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 lipp'd, and trembled kissing.

Mess. First, madam, he is well:

Cleo. 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.

Mess. Good madam, hear me.

Cleo. 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 shouldst come like a fury crown'd with snakes,
Not like a formal man.

Mess. Wilt please you hear me?

Cleo. 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.

Mess. Madam, he's well,

Cleo. Well said.

Mess. And friends with Cæsar.

Cleo. Thou'rt an honest man.

Mess. Cæsar and he are greater friends than ever. Cleo. Mark thee a fortune from me.

Mess. But yet, madam,—

Cleo. I do not like " but yet," it does allay

The good precedence; fie upon " but yet:"

"But yet" is as a gaoler, to bring forth

Some monstrous malefactor. Pr'ythee, 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. Mess. Free, madam? no; I made no such report, He's bound unto Octavia.

Cleo. I am pale, Charmian.

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

Cleo. The most infectious pestilence upon thee!

Mess. Good madam, patience.

[Strikes him down.

Cleo. What say you? [Striking him again.] Hence, Horrible villain! or I'll spurn thine eyes