Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. | |
| |
Enter CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUS, CHARMIAN, and IRAS. | |
| Cleo. What shall we do, Enobarbus? | |
| Eno. Think, and die. | 4 |
| Cleo. Is Antony or we, in fault for this? | |
| Eno. Antony only, that would make his will | |
| Lord of his reason. What though you fled | |
| From that great face of war, whose several ranges | 8 |
| Frighted each other, why should he follow? | |
| The itch of his affection should not then | |
| Have nick’d his captainship; at such a point, | |
| When half to half the world oppos’d, he being | 12 |
| The mered question. ’Twas a shame no less | |
| Than was his loss, to course your flying flags, | |
| And leave his navy gazing. | |
| Cleo. Prithee, peace. | 16 |
| |
Enter ANTONY, with EUPHRONIUS. | |
| Ant. Is that his answer? | |
| Euph. Ay, my lord. | |
| Ant. The queen shall then have courtesy, so she | 20 |
| Will yield us up? | |
| Euph. He says so. | |
| Ant. Let her know ’t. | |
| To the boy Cæsar send this grizzled head, | 24 |
| And he will fill thy wishes to the brim | |
| With principalities. | |
| Cleo. That head, my lord? | |
| Ant. To him again. Tell him he wears the rose | 28 |
| Of youth upon him, from which the world should note | |
| Something particular; his coin, ships, legions, | |
| May be a coward’s, whose ministers would prevail | |
| Under the service of a child as soon | 32 |
| As i’ the command of Cæsar: I dare him therefore | |
| To lay his gay comparisons apart, | |
| And answer me declin’d, sword against sword, | |
| Ourselves alone. I’ll write it: follow me. [Exeunt ANTONY and EUPHRONIUS. | 36 |
| Eno. [Aside.] Yes, like enough, high-battled Cæsar will | |
| Unstate his happiness, and be stag’d to the show | |
| Against a sworder! I see men’s judgments are | |
| A parcel of their fortunes, and things outward | 40 |
| Do draw the inward quality after them, | |
| To suffer all alike. That he should dream, | |
| Knowing all measures, the full Cæsar will | |
| Answer his emptiness! Cæsar, thou hast subdu’d | 44 |
| His judgment too. | |
| |
Enter an Attendant. | |
| Att. A messenger from Cæsar. | |
| Cleo. What! no more ceremony? See! my women; | 48 |
| Against the blown rose may they stop their nose, | |
| That kneel’d unto the buds. Admit him, sir. [Exit Attendant. | |
| Eno. [Aside.] Mine honesty and I begin to square. | |
| The loyalty well held to fools does make | 52 |
| Our faith mere folly; yet he that can endure | |
| To follow with allegiance a fall’n lord, | |
| Does conquer him that did his master conquer, | |
| And earns a place i’ the story. | 56 |
| |
Enter THYREUS. | |
| Cleo. Cæsar’s will? | |
| Thyr. Hear it apart. | |
| Cleo. None but friends; say boldly. | 60 |
| Thyr. So, haply, are they friends to Antony. | |
| Eno. He needs as many, sir, as Cæsar has, | |
| Or needs not us. If Cæsar please, our master | |
| Will leap to be his friend; for us, you know | 64 |
| Whose he is we are, and that is Cæsar’s. | |
| Thyr. So. | |
| Thus then, thou most renown’d: Cæsar entreats, | |
| Not to consider in what case thou stand’st, | 68 |
| Further than he is Cæsar. | |
| Cleo. Go on; right royal. | |
| Thyr. He knows that you embrace not Antony | |
| As you did love, but as you fear’d him. | 72 |
| Cleo. O! | |
| Thyr. The scars upon your honour therefore he | |
| Does pity, as constrained blemishes, | |
| Not as deserv’d. | 76 |
| Cleo. He is a god, and knows | |
| What is most right. Mine honour was not yielded, | |
| But conquer’d merely. | |
| Eno. [Aside.] To be sure of that, | 80 |
| I will ask Antony. Sir, sir, thou’rt so leaky, | |
| That we must leave thee to thy sinking, for | |
| Thy dearest quit thee. [Exit. | |
| Thyr. Shall I say to Cæsar. | 84 |
| What you require of him? for he partly begs | |
| To be desir’d to give. It much would please him, | |
| That of his fortunes you should make a staff | |
| To lean upon; but it would warm his spirits | 88 |
| To hear from me you had left Antony, | |
| And put yourself under his shroud, | |
| The universal landlord. | |
| Cleo. What’s your name? | 92 |
| Thyr. My name is Thyreus. | |
| Cleo. Most kind messenger, | |
| Say to great Cæsar this: in deputation | |
| I kiss his conqu’ring hand; tell him, I am prompt | 96 |
| To lay my crown at ’s feet, and there to kneel; | |
| Tell him, from his all-obeying breath I hear | |
| The doom of Egypt. | |
| Thyr. ’Tis your noblest course. | 100 |
| Wisdom and fortune combating together, | |
| If that the former dare but what it can, | |
| No chance may shake it. Give me grace to lay | |
| My duty on your hand. | 104 |
| Cleo. Your Cæsar’s father oft, | |
| When he hath mus’d of taking kingdoms in, | |
| Bestow’d his lips on that unworthy place, | |
| As it rain’d kisses. | 108 |
| |
Re-enter ANTONY and ENOBARBUS. | |
| Ant. Favours, by Jove that thunders! | |
| What art thou, fellow? | |
| Thyr. One that but performs | 112 |
| The bidding of the fullest man, and worthiest | |
| To have command obey’d. | |
| Eno. [Aside.] You will be whipp’d. | |
| Ant. Approach there! Ah, you kite! Now, gods and devils! | 116 |
| Authority melts from me: of late, when I cried ‘Ho!’ | |
| Like boys unto a muss, kings would start forth, | |
| And cry, ‘Your will?’ Have you no ears? I am | |
| Antony yet. | 120 |
| |
Enter Attendants. | |
| Take hence this Jack and whip him. | |
| Eno. [Aside.] ’Tis better playing with a lion’s whelp | |
| Than with an old one dying. | 124 |
| Ant. Moon and stars! | |
| Whip him. Were’t twenty of the greatest tributaries | |
| That do acknowledge Cæsar, should I find them | |
| So saucy with the hand of—she here, what’s her name, | 128 |
| Since she was Cleopatra? Whip him, fellows, | |
| Till, like a boy, you see him cringe his face | |
| And whine aloud for mercy; take him hence. | |
| Thyr. Mark Antony,— | 132 |
| Ant. Tug him away; being whipp’d, | |
| Bring him again; this Jack of Cæsar’s shall | |
| Bear us an errand to him. [Exeunt Attendants with THYREUS. | |
| You were half blasted ere I knew you: ha! | 136 |
| Have I my pillow left unpress’d in Rome, | |
| Forborne the getting of a lawful race, | |
| And by a gem of women, to be abus’d | |
| By one that looks on feeders? | 140 |
| Cleo. Good my lord,— | |
| Ant. You have been a boggler ever: | |
| But when we in our viciousness grow hard,— | |
| O misery on’t!—the wise gods seel our eyes; | 144 |
| In our own filth drop our clear judgments; make us | |
| Adore our errors; laugh at’s while we strut | |
| To our confusion. | |
| Cleo. O! is’t come to this? | 148 |
| Ant. I found you as a morsel, cold upon | |
| Dead Cæsar’s trencher; nay, you were a fragment | |
| Of Cneius Pompey’s; besides what hotter hours, | |
| Unregister’d in vulgar fame, you have | 152 |
| Luxuriously pick’d out; for, I am sure, | |
| Though you can guess what temperance should be, | |
| You know not what it is. | |
| Cleo. Wherefore is this? | 156 |
| Ant. To let a fellow that will take rewards | |
| And say ‘God quit you!’ be familiar with | |
| My playfellow, your hand; this kingly seal | |
| And plighter of high hearts. O! that I were | 160 |
| Upon the hill of Basan, to outroar | |
| The horned herd; for I have savage cause; | |
| And to proclaim it civilly were like | |
| A halter’d neck, which does the hangman thank | 164 |
| For being yare about him. | |
| |
Re-enter Attendants, with THYREUS. | |
| Is he whipp’d? | |
| First Att. Soundly, my lord. | 168 |
| Ant. Cried he? and begg’d a’ pardon? | |
| First Att. He did ask favour. | |
| Ant. If that thy father live, let him repent | |
| Thou wast not made his daughter; and be thou sorry | 172 |
| To follow Cæsar in his triumph, since | |
| Thou hast been whipp’d for following him: henceforth, | |
| The white hand of a lady fever thee, | |
| Shake thou to look on’t. Get thee back to Cæsar, | 176 |
| Tell him thy entertainment; look, thou say | |
| He makes me angry with him; for he seems | |
| Proud and disdainful, harping on what I am, | |
| Not what he knew I was: he makes me angry; | 180 |
| And at this time most easy ’tis to do’t, | |
| When my good stars, that were my former guides, | |
| Have empty left their orbs, and shot their fires | |
| Into the abysm of hell. If he mislike | 184 |
| My speech and what is done, tell him he has | |
| Hipparchus, my enfranched bondman, whom | |
| He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture, | |
| As he shall like, to quit me: urge it thou: | 188 |
| Hence with thy stripes; be gone! [Exit THYREUS. | |
| Cleo. Have you done yet? | |
| Ant. Alack! our terrene moon | |
| Is now eclips’d; and it portends alone | 192 |
| The fall of Antony. | |
| Cleo. I must stay his time. | |
| Ant. To flatter Cæsar, would you mingle eyes | |
| With one that ties his points? | 196 |
| Cleo. Not know me yet? | |
| Ant. Cold-hearted toward me? | |
| Cleo. Ah! dear, if I be so, | |
| From my cold heart let heaven engender hail, | 200 |
| And poison it in the source; and the first stone | |
| Drop in my neck: as it determines; so | |
| Dissolve my life. The next Cæsarion smite, | |
| Till by degrees the memory of my womb, | 204 |
| Together with my brave Egyptians all, | |
| By the discandying of this pelleted storm, | |
| Lie graveless, till the flies and gnats of Nile | |
| Have buried them for prey! | 208 |
| Ant. I am satisfied. | |
| Cæsar sits down in Alexandria, where | |
| I will oppose his fate. Our force by land | |
| Hath nobly held; our sever’d navy too | 212 |
| Have knit again, and fleet, threat’ning most sea-like. | |
| Where hast thou been, my heart? Dost thou hear, lady? | |
| If from the field I shall return once more | |
| To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood; | 216 |
| I and my sword will earn our chronicle: | |
| There’s hope in’t yet. | |
| Cleo. That’s my brave lord! | |
| Ant. I will betreble-sinew’d, hearted, breath’d, | 220 |
| And fight maliciously; for when mine hours | |
| Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives | |
| Of me for jests; but now I’ll set my teeth, | |
| And send to darkness all that stop me. Come, | 224 |
| Let’s have one other gaudy night: call to me | |
| All my sad captains; fill our bowls once more; | |
| Let’s mock the midnight bell. | |
| Cleo. It is my birth-day: | 228 |
| I had thought to have held it poor; but, since my lord | |
| Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra. | |
| Ant. We will yet do well. | |
| Cleo. Call all his noble captains to my lord. | 232 |
| Ant. Do so, we’ll speak to them; and to-night I’ll force | |
| The wine peep through their scars. Come on, my queen; | |
| There’s sap in’t yet. The next time I do fight | |
| I’ll make death love me, for I will contend | 236 |
| Even with his pestilent scythe. [Exeunt all but ENOBARBUS. | |
| Eno. Now he’ll outstare the lightning. To be furious | |
| Is to be frighted out of fear, and in that mood | |
| The dove will peck the estridge; and I see still, | 240 |
| A diminution in our captain’s brain | |
| Restores his heart. When valour preys on reason | |
| It eats the sword it fights with. I will seek | |
| Some way to leave him. [Exit. | 244 |
