In every power that moves.

Thyr. Cafar, I fhall.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

NE X.

ALEXANDRIA.

Enter Cleopatra,

Cleo.

What
W

nobarbus, Charmian, and Iras.

7Hat fhall we do, Enobarbus?
Eno. ' 'Drink,` and die. a
Cleo. Is Antony, or we, in fault for this?
Eno. Antony only, that would make his will
Lord of his reafon. What although you fled
From that great face of war, whofe feveral ranges
Frighted each other? why fhould he follow you?
The itch of his affection fhould not then
Have nickt his captainfhip at fuch a point,
When half to half the world oppos'd, he being
The meered queftion. 'Twas a fhame no less
Than was his lofs, to courfe your flying flags,
And leave his navy gazing.

Cleo. Pr'ythee peace.

Enter Antony, with the Ambassador.

Ant. Is that his anfwer?

Amb. Ay, my Lord.

Ant. The Queen

Shall then have courtefie, fo fhe will yield

Us up.

8

Amb. 'My Lord, he fays fo.`

Ant. Let her know't.

(a) This reply of Enobarbus feems grounded upon a particularity in the conduct of Antony and Cleopatra which is related by Plutarch: that after their defeat at Actium they inftituted a fociety of friends who enter'd into engagement to die with them, not abating in the mean time any part of that luxury, excess, and riot, in which they had lived before.

To the boy Cæfar fend this grizled head,
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

Of youth upon him; from which, the world fhould note
Something particular; his coin, fhips, legions,

May be a coward's, whofe minifters would prevail
Under the fervice of a child, as foon

As i'th' command of Cæfar. I dare him therefore
To lay his gay caparifons apart,

And anfwer me declin'd, fword against fword,
Our felves alone; I'll write it, follow me.

[Exit Ant.
Eno. Yes, like enough: high-battled Cæfar will
Unftate his happinefs, and be ftag'd to th' fhew
Against a fworder. I fee mens judgments are
A parcel of their fortunes, and things outward
Do draw the inward quality after them
To fuffer all alike. That he fhould dream,
Knowing all meafures, the full Cæfar will
Anfwer his emptinefs! Cæfar, thou haft fubdu'd
His judgment too.

Enter a Servant.

Ser. A meffenger from Cæfar.

Cleo. What, no more ceremony? fee, my womenAgainst the blown rofe may they stop their nofe, That kneel'd unto the buds. Admit him, Sir.

Eno. Mine honefty and I begin to fquare;
'Tho' loyalty well held, to fools does make
Our faith meer folly; yet he that can endure
To follow with allegiance a fall'n lord,

Do's conquer him that did his mafter conquer,
And earns a place i' th' ftory.

Cleo. Cafar's will?

Enter Thyrëus.

byr. Hear it apart.

9 The... old edit. Theob, emend.

[Afide.

Cleo.

Cleo. 'None here but friends; fay boldly.
Thyr. So haply are they friends to Antony.
Eno. He needs as many, Sir, as Cæfar has;
Or needs not us. If Cæfar please, our master
Will leap to be his friend: for as you know,
Whofe he is, we are, and that's Cafar's.
Thyr. So.

Thus then, thou most renown'd; Cæfar intreats
Not to confider in what cafe thou ftand'st
Further than he is Cæfar.

Cleo. Go on; right royal.

Thyr. He knows that you embrace not Antony

As you did love, but as you fear'd him.
Cleo. Oh!

Thyr. The fears upon your honour therefore he
Do's pity, as conftrained blemishes,

Not as deferv'd.

Cleo. He is a God, and knows

[Afide.

What is moft right. Mine honour was not yielded,
But conquer'd meerly.

Eno. To be fure of that,

I will ask Antony. Sir, thou'rt fo leaky

That we must leave thee to thy finking, for

Thy deareft quit thee.

Thyr. Shall I fay to Cæfar

What you require of him? he partly begs

[Afide.

[Exit Enob.

To be defir'd to give. It much would please him,
That of his fortunes you would make a staff
To lean upon. But it would warm his fpirits,
To hear from me you had left Antony,

2

And put your felf under his 'fhrowd, the great,
The univerfal landlord.

Cleo. What's your name?
Thyr. My name is Thyrëus.
Cleo. Moft kind meffenger,

Say to great Cefar this; in 'deputation`

I None but

2 fhrowd, the univerfal

3 Difputation... old edit. Warb. emend.

I

I kifs his conqu❜ring hand: tell him, I'm prompt
To lay my crown at's feet, and there to kneel.
Tell him, that from his all-obeying breath
I hear the doom of Egypt.

Thyr. It is your nobleft course:
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.

Cleo. Your Cæfar's + 'father,`

When he hath mus'd of taking kingdoms in,
Beftow'd his lips on that unworthy place,
As it rain'd kiffes.

Enter Antony, and Enobarbus.

Ant. Favours! by Jove that thunders

What art thou, fellow?

[Seeing Thyrëus kifs her band,

Thyr. One that but performs

The bidding of the fulleft man, and worthieft

To have command obey'd.

Eno. You will be whipp'd.

[devils!

Ant. Approach thereah you kite! now, Gods and

Authority melts from me of late. When I

Cry'd, Hoa! like boys unto a mufs, Kings would
Start forth, and cry, Your will? have you no ears?
I'm Antony yet. Take hence this jack and whip him.
Enter Servants.

Eno. 'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp,
Than with an old one dying.

Ant. Moon and stars!

Whip him: were't twenty of the greatest Tributaries
That do acknowledge Cafar, fhould I find them

So fawcy with the hand of 'her' here, (what's her name

4 father oft,

5 fhe

Since

Since he was Cleopatra ?)—whip him, fellows
'Till like a boy you fee him cringe his face,
And whine aloud for mercy. Take him hence.
Thyr. Mark Antony-

Ant. Tug him away; being whipp'd

Bring him again, this jack of Cafar's fhall
Bear us an errand to him.

[Exeunt with Thyrëus.

You were half blafted ere I knew you: ha! [To Cleopatra.
Have I my pillow left unpreft in Rome,
Forborn the getting of a lawful race,
And by a gem of women, to be abus'd
By one that looks on feeders ?

Cleo. Good my Lord

Ant. You have been a boggler ever.
But when we in our vicioufnefs grow hard,
(Oh mifery on't!) the wife Gods feal our eyes

In our own filth, drop our clear judgments, make us
Adore our errors, laugh at's while we ftrut

To our confufion.

Cleo. Oh, is't come to this?

Ant. I found you as a morfel cold upon
Dead Cæfar's trencher; nay, you were a fragment
Of Cneus Pompey, befides what hotter hours
Unregistred in vulgar fame, you have
Luxuriously pickt out. For I am fure,

Though you can guess what temperance should be,
You know not what it is.

Cleo. Wherefore is this?

Ant. To let a fellow that will take rewards,
And fay, God quit you, be familiar with

My play-fellow, your hand, this kingly feal,
And plighter of high hearts!O that I were
Upon the hill of Bafan, to out-roar
The horned herd, for I have favage caufe;
And to proclaim it civilly, were like

A halter'd neck, which does the hangman thank
For being yare about him. Is he whipp'd?

Enter