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GratisAntony and Cleopatra
William Shakespeare
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Kapitel
Antony and Cleopatra
Forord og innledning
ACT I
Scene I
Alexandria. A Room in Cleopatra's palace.
Scene II
Alexandria. Another Room in Cleopatra's palace.
Scene III
Alexandria. A Room in Cleopatra's palace.
Scene IV
Rome. An Apartment in Caesar's House
Scene V
Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.
ACT II
Scene I
Messina. A Room in Pompey's house.
Scene II
Rome. A Room in the House of Lepidus.
Scene III
Rome. A Room in Caesar's House.
Scene IV
Rome. A street.
Scene V
Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.
Scene VI
Near Misenum.
Scene VII
On board Pompey's Galley, lying near Misenum.
ACT III
Scene I
A plain in Syria.
Scene II
Rome. An Ante-chamber in Caesar's house.
Scene III
Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.
Scene IV
Athens. A Room in Antony's House.
Scene V
Athens. Another Room in Antony's House.
Scene VI
Rome. A Room in Caesar's House.
Scene VII
Antony's Camp near the Promontory of Actium.
Scene VIII
A plain near Actium.
Scene IX
Another part of the Plain.
Scene X
Another part of the Plain.
Scene XI
Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.
Scene XII
Caesar's camp in Egypt.
Scene XIII
Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.
ACT IV
Scene I
Caesar's Camp at Alexandria.
Scene II
Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.
Scene III
Alexandria. Before the Palace.
Scene IV
Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.
Scene V
Antony's camp near Alexandria.
Scene VI
Alexandria. Caesar's camp.
Scene VII
Field of battle between the Camps.
Scene VIII
Under the Walls of Alexandria.
Scene IX
Caesar's camp.
Scene X
Ground between the two Camps.
Scene XI
Another part of the Ground.
Scene XII
Another part of the Ground.
Scene XIII
Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.
Scene XIV
Alexandria. Another Room.
Scene XV
Alexandria. A monument.
ACT V
Scene I
Caesar's Camp before Alexandria.
Scene II
Alexandria. A Room in the Monument. Dramatis Personæ MARK ANTONY, Triumvir OCTAVIUS CAESAR, Triumvir LEPIDUS, Triumvir SEXTUS POMPEIUS, DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS, friend to Antony VENTIDIUS, friend to Antony EROS, friend to Antony SCARUS, friend to Antony DERCETUS, friend to Antony DEMETRIUS, friend to Antony PHILO, friend to Antony MAECENAS, friend to Caesar AGRIPPA, friend to Caesar DOLABELLA, friend to Caesar PROCULEIUS, friend to Caesar THIDIAS, friend to Caesar GALLUS, friend to Caesar MENAS, friend to Pompey MENECRATES, friend to Pompey VARRIUS, friend to Pompey TAURUS, Lieutenant-General to Caesar CANIDIUS, Lieutenant-General to Antony SILIUS, an Officer in Ventidius's army EUPHRONIUS, an Ambassador from Antony to Caesar ALEXAS, attendant on Cleopatra MARDIAN, attendant on Cleopatra SELEUCUS, attendant on Cleopatra DIOMEDES, attendant on Cleopatra
OCTAVIA, sister to Caesar and wife to Antony
CHARMIAN, Attendant on Cleopatra
IRAS, Attendant on Cleopatra
Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, and other Attendants
ACT I
SCENE I. Alexandria. A Room in Cleopatra's palace
Enter Demetrius and Philo.
O'erflows the measure. Those his goodly eyes,
That o'er the files and musters of the war
Have glowed like plated Mars, now bend, now turn
The office and devotion of their view
On a tawny front. His captain's heart,
Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst
The buckles on his breast, reneges all temper
And is become the bellows and the fan
To cool a gipsy's lust.
Flourish. Enter Antony and Cleopatra, her Ladies, the Train, with Eunuchs fanning her.
Look where they come:
Take but good note, and you shall see in him
The triple pillar of the world transform'd
Into a strumpet's fool. Behold and see.
Enter a Messenger.
Fulvia perchance is angry; or who knows
If the scarce-bearded Caesar have not sent
His powerful mandate to you: "Do this or this;
Take in that kingdom and enfranchise that.
Perform't, or else we damn thee."
Of the ranged empire fall! Here is my space.
Kingdoms are clay. Our dungy earth alike
Feeds beast as man. The nobleness of life
Is to do thus [_Embracing_]; when such a mutual pair
And such a twain can do't, in which I bind,
On pain of punishment, the world to weet
We stand up peerless.
Why did he marry Fulvia, and not love her?
I'll seem the fool I am not. Antony
Will be himself.
Now, for the love of Love and her soft hours,
Let's not confound the time with conference harsh.
There's not a minute of our lives should stretch
Without some pleasure now. What sport tonight?
Whom everything becomes—to chide, to laugh,
To weep; whose every passion fully strives
To make itself, in thee fair and admired!
No messenger but thine, and all alone
Tonight we'll wander through the streets and note
The qualities of people. Come, my queen,
Last night you did desire it. Speak not to us.
_Exeunt Antony and Cleopatra with the Train._
He comes too short of that great property
Which still should go with Antony.
That he approves the common liar who
Thus speaks of him at Rome, but I will hope
Of better deeds tomorrow. Rest you happy!
_Exeunt._
SCENE II. Alexandria. Another Room in Cleopatra's palace
Enter Enobarbus, a Soothsayer, Charmian, Iras, Mardian and Alexas.
A little I can read.
Cleopatra's health to drink.
Than that which is to approach.
And fertile every wish, a million.
Enter Cleopatra.
A Roman thought hath struck him. Enobarbus!
Enter Antony with a Messenger.
_Exeunt Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Charmian, Iras, Alexas and Soothsayer._
But soon that war had end, and the time's state
Made friends of them, jointing their force 'gainst Caesar,
Whose better issue in the war from Italy
On the first encounter drave them.
Things that are past are done with me. 'Tis thus:
Who tells me true, though in his tale lie death,
I hear him as he flattered.
This is stiff news—hath with his Parthian force
Extended Asia from Euphrates
His conquering banner shook from Syria
To Lydia and to Ionia,
While—
_Exit Messenger._
Enter another Messenger.
_Exit second Messenger._
These strong Egyptian fetters I must break, Or lose myself in dotage.
Enter another Messenger with a letter.
Her length of sickness, with what else more serious
Importeth thee to know, this bears.
_Gives a letter._
_Exit third Messenger._
There's a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it.
What our contempts doth often hurl from us,
We wish it ours again. The present pleasure,
By revolution lowering, does become
The opposite of itself. She's good, being gone.
The hand could pluck her back that shoved her on.
I must from this enchanting queen break off.
Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know,
My idleness doth hatch. How now, Enobarbus!
Enter Enobarbus.
Cannot endure my absence.
Have notice what we purpose. I shall break
The cause of our expedience to the Queen,
And get her leave to part. For not alone
The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches,
Do strongly speak to us, but the letters too
Of many our contriving friends in Rome
Petition us at home. Sextus Pompeius
Hath given the dare to Caesar, and commands
The empire of the sea. Our slippery people,
Whose love is never linked to the deserver
Till his deserts are past, begin to throw
Pompey the Great and all his dignities
On his son, who, high in name and power,
Higher than both in blood and life, stands up
For the main soldier; whose quality, going on,
The sides o' th' world may danger. Much is breeding
Which, like the courser's hair, hath yet but life
And not a serpent's poison. Say our pleasure
To such whose place is under us, requires
Our quick remove from hence.
_Exeunt._
SCENE III. Alexandria. A Room in Cleopatra's palace
Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Alexas and Iras.
I did not send you. If you find him sad,
Say I am dancing; if in mirth, report
That I am sudden sick. Quick, and return.
_Exit Alexas._
You do not hold the method to enforce
The like from him.
In time we hate that which we often fear.
But here comes Antony.
Enter Antony.
It cannot be thus long; the sides of nature
Will not sustain it.
What, says the married woman you may go?
Would she had never given you leave to come!
Let her not say 'tis I that keep you here.
I have no power on you; hers you are.
So mightily betrayed! Yet at the first
I saw the treasons planted.
Though you in swearing shake the throned gods,
Who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous madness,
To be entangled with those mouth-made vows
Which break themselves in swearing!
But bid farewell and go. When you sued staying,
Then was the time for words. No going then,
Eternity was in our lips and eyes,
Bliss in our brows' bent; none our parts so poor
But was a race of heaven. They are so still,
Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world,
Art turned the greatest liar.
There were a heart in Egypt.
The strong necessity of time commands
Our services awhile, but my full heart
Remains in use with you. Our Italy
Shines o'er with civil swords; Sextus Pompeius
Makes his approaches to the port of Rome;
Equality of two domestic powers
Breed scrupulous faction; the hated, grown to strength,
Are newly grown to love; the condemned Pompey,
Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace
Into the hearts of such as have not thrived
On the present state, whose numbers threaten;
And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge
By any desperate change. My more particular,
And that which most with you should safe my going,
Is Fulvia's death.
It does from childishness. Can Fulvia die?
Look here, and at thy sovereign leisure read
The garboils she awaked; at the last, best,
See when and where she died.
Where be the sacred vials thou shouldst fill
With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see,
In Fulvia's death how mine received shall be.
The purposes I bear; which are, or cease,
As you shall give th' advice. By the fire
That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence
Thy soldier, servant, making peace or war
As thou affects.
But let it be; I am quickly ill and well,
So Antony loves.
And give true evidence to his love, which stands
An honourable trial.
I prithee, turn aside and weep for her,
Then bid adieu to me, and say the tears
Belong to Egypt. Good now, play one scene
Of excellent dissembling, and let it look
Like perfect honour.
But this is not the best. Look, prithee, Charmian,
How this Herculean Roman does become
The carriage of his chafe.
Sir, you and I must part, but that's not it;
Sir, you and I have loved, but there's not it;
That you know well. Something it is I would—
O, my oblivion is a very Antony,
And I am all forgotten.
Holds idleness your subject, I should take you
For idleness itself.
To bear such idleness so near the heart
As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me,
Since my becomings kill me when they do not
Eye well to you. Your honour calls you hence;
Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly,
And all the gods go with you! On your sword
Sit laurel victory, and smooth success
Be strewed before your feet!
Our separation so abides and flies
That thou, residing here, goes yet with me,
And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee.
Away!
_Exeunt._
SCENE IV. Rome. An Apartment in Caesar's House
Enter Octavius [Caesar], Lepidus and their train.
It is not Caesar's natural vice to hate
Our great competitor. From Alexandria
This is the news: he fishes, drinks, and wastes
The lamps of night in revel: is not more manlike
Than Cleopatra, nor the queen of Ptolemy
More womanly than he; hardly gave audience, or
Vouchsafed to think he had partners. You shall find there
A man who is the abstract of all faults
That all men follow.
Evils enough to darken all his goodness.
His faults in him seem as the spots of heaven,
More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary
Rather than purchased; what he cannot change
Than what he chooses.
Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy,
To give a kingdom for a mirth, to sit
And keep the turn of tippling with a slave,
To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet
With knaves that smell of sweat. Say this becomes him—
As his composure must be rare indeed
Whom these things cannot blemish—yet must Antony
No way excuse his foils when we do bear
So great weight in his lightness. If he filled
His vacancy with his voluptuousness,
Full surfeits and the dryness of his bones
Call on him for't. But to confound such time
That drums him from his sport, and speaks as loud
As his own state and ours, 'tis to be chid
As we rate boys who, being mature in knowledge,
Pawn their experience to their present pleasure
And so rebel to judgment.
Enter a Messenger.
Most noble Caesar, shalt thou have report
How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea,
And it appears he is beloved of those
That only have feared Caesar. To the ports
The discontents repair, and men's reports
Give him much wronged.
It hath been taught us from the primal state
That he which is was wished until he were,
And the ebbed man, ne'er loved till ne'er worth love,
Comes deared by being lacked. This common body,
Like to a vagabond flag on the stream,
Goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide,
To rot itself with motion.
Enter a second Messenger.
Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates,
Make the sea serve them, which they ear and wound
With keels of every kind. Many hot inroads
They make in Italy—the borders maritime
Lack blood to think on't—and flush youth revolt.
No vessel can peep forth but 'tis as soon
Taken as seen; for Pompey's name strikes more
Than could his war resisted.
Leave thy lascivious wassails. When thou once
Was beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st
Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel
Did famine follow, whom thou fought'st against,
Though daintily brought up, with patience more
Than savages could suffer. Thou didst drink
The stale of horses and the gilded puddle
Which beasts would cough at. Thy palate then did deign
The roughest berry on the rudest hedge.
Yea, like the stag when snow the pasture sheets,
The barks of trees thou browsed. On the Alps
It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh
Which some did die to look on. And all this—
It wounds thine honour that I speak it now—
Was borne so like a soldier that thy cheek
So much as lanked not.
Drive him to Rome. 'Tis time we twain
Did show ourselves i' th' field, and to that end
Assemble we immediate council. Pompey
Thrives in our idleness.
I shall be furnished to inform you rightly
Both what by sea and land I can be able
To front this present time.
It is my business too. Farewell.
Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir,
To let me be partaker.
I knew it for my bond.
_Exeunt._
SCENE V. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace
Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras and Mardian.
Give me to drink mandragora.
My Antony is away.
In aught an eunuch has. 'Tis well for thee
That, being unseminared, thy freer thoughts
May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou affections?
But what indeed is honest to be done.
Yet have I fierce affections, and think
What Venus did with Mars.
Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he?
Or does he walk? Or is he on his horse?
O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony!
Do bravely, horse, for wot'st thou whom thou mov'st?
The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm
And burgonet of men. He's speaking now,
Or murmuring "Where's my serpent of old Nile?"
For so he calls me. Now I feed myself
With most delicious poison. Think on me
That am with Phœbus' amorous pinches black,
And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Caesar,
When thou wast here above the ground, I was
A morsel for a monarch. And great Pompey
Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow;
There would he anchor his aspect, and die
With looking on his life.
Enter Alexas.
Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath
With his tinct gilded thee.
How goes it with my brave Mark Antony?
He kissed—the last of many doubled kisses—
This orient pearl. His speech sticks in my heart.
"Say, the firm Roman to great Egypt sends
This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot,
To mend the petty present, I will piece
Her opulent throne with kingdoms. All the east,
Say thou, shall call her mistress." So he nodded
And soberly did mount an arm-gaunt steed,
Who neighed so high that what I would have spoke
Was beastly dumbed by him.
Note him, good Charmian, 'tis the man; but note him:
He was not sad, for he would shine on those
That make their looks by his; he was not merry,
Which seemed to tell them his remembrance lay
In Egypt with his joy; but between both.
O heavenly mingle!—Be'st thou sad or merry,
The violence of either thee becomes,
So does it no man else.—Met'st thou my posts?
Why do you send so thick?
When I forget to send to Antony
Shall die a beggar.—Ink and paper, Charmian.—
Welcome, my good Alexas.—Did I, Charmian,
Ever love Caesar so?
Say "the brave Antony."
If thou with Caesar paragon again
My man of men.
I sing but after you.
When I was green in judgment, cold in blood,
To say as I said then. But come, away,
Get me ink and paper.
He shall have every day a several greeting,
Or I'll unpeople Egypt.
_Exeunt._
ACT II
SCENE I. Messina. A Room in Pompey's house
Enter Pompey, Menecrates and Menas in warlike manner.
The deeds of justest men.
That what they do delay they not deny.
The thing we sue for.
Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers
Deny us for our good; so find we profit
By losing of our prayers.
The people love me, and the sea is mine;
My powers are crescent, and my auguring hope
Says it will come to th' full. Mark Antony
In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make
No wars without doors. Caesar gets money where
He loses hearts. Lepidus flatters both,
Of both is flattered; but he neither loves
Nor either cares for him.
Are in the field. A mighty strength they carry.
Looking for Antony. But all the charms of love,
Salt Cleopatra, soften thy waned lip!
Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both;
Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts;
Keep his brain fuming. Epicurean cooks
Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite,
That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honour
Even till a Lethe'd dullness—
Enter Varrius.
Mark Antony is every hour in Rome
Expected. Since he went from Egypt 'tis
A space for farther travel.
A better ear.—Menas, I did not think
This amorous surfeiter would have donned his helm
For such a petty war. His soldiership
Is twice the other twain. But let us rear
The higher our opinion, that our stirring
Can from the lap of Egypt's widow pluck
The ne'er lust-wearied Antony.
Caesar and Antony shall well greet together.
His wife that's dead did trespasses to Caesar;
His brother warred on him, although I think,
Not moved by Antony.
How lesser enmities may give way to greater.
Were't not that we stand up against them all,
'Twere pregnant they should square between themselves,
For they have entertained cause enough
To draw their swords. But how the fear of us
May cement their divisions, and bind up
The petty difference, we yet not know.
Be't as our gods will have't! It only stands
Our lives on to use our strongest hands.
Come, Menas.
_Exeunt._
SCENE II. Rome. A Room in the House of Lepidus
Enter Enobarbus and Lepidus.
And shall become you well, to entreat your captain
To soft and gentle speech.
To answer like himself. If Caesar move him,
Let Antony look over Caesar's head
And speak as loud as Mars. By Jupiter,
Were I the wearer of Antonius' beard,
I would not shave't today.
For private stomaching.
Serves for the matter that is then born in't.
But pray you stir no embers up. Here comes
The noble Antony.
Enter Antony and Ventidius.
Enter Caesar, Maecenas and Agrippa.
Hark, Ventidius.
That which combined us was most great, and let not
A leaner action rend us. What's amiss,
May it be gently heard. When we debate
Our trivial difference loud, we do commit
Murder in healing wounds. Then, noble partners,
The rather for I earnestly beseech,
Touch you the sourest points with sweetest terms,
Nor curstness grow to th' matter.
Were we before our armies, and to fight,
I should do thus.
Or being, concern you not.
If, or for nothing or a little, I
Should say myself offended, and with you
Chiefly i' th' world; more laughed at that I should
Once name you derogately when to sound your name
It not concerned me.
What was't to you?
Might be to you in Egypt. Yet if you there
Did practise on my state, your being in Egypt
Might be my question.
By what did here befall me. Your wife and brother
Made wars on me, and their contestation
Was theme for you; you were the word of war.
Did urge me in his act. I did inquire it,
And have my learning from some true reports
That drew their swords with you. Did he not rather
Discredit my authority with yours,
And make the wars alike against my stomach,
Having alike your cause? Of this my letters
Before did satisfy you. If you'll patch a quarrel,
As matter whole you have not to make it with,
It must not be with this.
By laying defects of judgment to me; but
You patched up your excuses.
I know you could not lack—I am certain on't—
Very necessity of this thought, that I,
Your partner in the cause 'gainst which he fought,
Could not with graceful eyes attend those wars
Which fronted mine own peace. As for my wife,
I would you had her spirit in such another.
The third o' th' world is yours, which with a snaffle
You may pace easy, but not such a wife.
Might go to wars with the women.
Made out of her impatience—which not wanted
Shrewdness of policy too—I grieving grant
Did you too much disquiet. For that you must
But say I could not help it.
When rioting in Alexandria; you
Did pocket up my letters, and with taunts
Did gibe my missive out of audience.
He fell on me ere admitted, then.
Three kings I had newly feasted, and did want
Of what I was i' th' morning. But next day
I told him of myself, which was as much
As to have asked him pardon. Let this fellow
Be nothing of our strife; if we contend,
Out of our question wipe him.
The article of your oath, which you shall never
Have tongue to charge me with.
The honour is sacred which he talks on now,
Supposing that I lacked it. But on, Caesar:
The article of my oath?
The which you both denied.
And then when poisoned 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.
The griefs between ye; to forget them quite
Were to remember that the present need
Speaks to atone you.
The manner 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 should hold us staunch, from edge to edge
O' th' world I would pursue it.
Admired Octavia. Great Mark Antony
Is now a widower.
If Cleopatra heard you, your reproof
Were well deserved of rashness.
Agrippa further speak.
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. Truths would be tales,
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 'tis a studied, not a present thought,
By duty ruminated.
With what is spoke already.
If I would say "Agrippa, be it so,"
To make this good?
His power unto Octavia.
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!
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!
For he hath laid strange courtesies and great
Of late on me. I must thank him only,
Lest my remembrance suffer ill report;
At heel of that, defy him.
Of us must Pompey presently be sought,
Or else he seeks out us.
He is an absolute master.
Would we had spoke together! Haste we for it.
Yet, ere we put ourselves in arms, dispatch we
The business we have talked of.
And do invite you to my sister's view,
Whither straight I'll lead you.
_Flourish. Exeunt all except Enobarbus, Agrippa and Maecenas._
The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne,
Burned 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 beggared all description: she did lie
In her pavilion, cloth-of-gold of tissue,
O'erpicturing that Venus where we see
The fancy outwork nature. On each side her
Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids,
With divers-coloured fans, whose wind did seem
To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
And what they undid did.
So many mermaids, tended her i' th' 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 on her, and Antony,
Enthroned i' th' market-place, did sit alone,
Whistling to th' air, which, but for vacancy,
Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too,
And made a gap in nature.
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 barbered ten times o'er, goes to the feast,
And, for his ordinary, pays his heart
For what his eyes eat only.
She made great Caesar lay his sword to bed.
He ploughed her, and she cropped.
Hop forty paces through the public street
And, having lost her breath, she spoke and panted,
That she did make defect perfection,
And, breathless, pour breath forth.
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.
The heart of Antony, Octavia is
A blessed lottery to him.
Good Enobarbus, make yourself my guest
While you abide here.
_Exeunt._
SCENE III. Rome. A Room in Caesar's House
Enter Antony, Caesar, Octavia between them.
Divide me from your bosom.
Before the gods my knee shall bow my prayers
To them for you.
Read not my blemishes in the world's report.
I have not kept my square, but that to come
Shall all be done by th' rule. Good night, dear lady.
_Exeunt Caesar and Octavia._
Enter Soothsayer.
But yet hie you to Egypt again.
Therefore, O Antony, stay not by his side.
Thy dæmon—that thy spirit which keeps thee—is
Noble, courageous, high, unmatchable,
Where Caesar's is not. But near him, thy angel
Becomes afeard, as being o'erpowered. Therefore
Make space enough between you.
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, 'tis noble.
Say to Ventidius I would speak with him.
_Exit Soothsayer._
He 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 naught, and his quails ever
Beat mine, inhooped, at odds. I will to Egypt:
And though I make this marriage for my peace,
I' th' East my pleasure lies.
Enter Ventidius.
You must to Parthia. Your commission's ready.
Follow me and receive 't.
_Exeunt._
SCENE IV. Rome. A street
Enter Lepidus, Maecenas and Agrippa.
Your generals after.
Will e'en but kiss Octavia, and we'll follow.
Which will become you both, farewell.
As I conceive the journey, be at the Mount
Before you, Lepidus.
My purposes do draw me much about.
You'll win two days on me.
_Exeunt._
SCENE V. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace
Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, Alexas.
Of us that trade in love.
Enter Mardian, the eunuch.
As with a woman. Come, you'll play with me, sir?
The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now.
Give me mine angle; we'll to the river. There,
My music playing far off, I will betray
Tawny-finned 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."
You wagered on your angling; when your diver
Did hang a salt fish on his hook, which he
With fervency drew up.
I laughed him out of patience; and that night
I laughed him into patience, and next morn,
Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed,
Then put my tires and mantles on him, while
I wore his sword Philippan.
Enter Messenger.
Ram thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears,
That long time have been barren.
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 lipped, and trembled kissing.
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.
But there's no goodness in thy face if Antony
Be free and healthful. So tart a favour
To trumpet such good tidings! If not well,
Thou shouldst come like a Fury crowned with snakes,
Not like a formal man.
Yet if thou say Antony lives, is well,
Or friends with Caesar, or not captive to him,
I'll set thee in a shower of gold and hail
Rich pearls on thee.
The good precedence. Fie on "But yet"!
"But yet" is as a gaoler to bring forth
Some monstrous malefactor. Prithee, friend,
Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear,
The good and bad together: he's friends with Caesar,
In state of health, thou say'st; and, thou say'st, free.
He's bound unto Octavia.
_Strikes him down._
_Strikes him again._
Hence, horrible villain, or I'll spurn thine eyes Like balls before me! I'll unhair thy head!
_She hales him up and down._
Thou shalt be whipped with wire and stewed in brine, Smarting in ling'ring pickle.
I that do bring the news made not the match.
And make thy fortunes proud. The blow thou hadst
Shall make thy peace for moving me to rage,
And I will boot thee with what gift beside
Thy modesty can beg.
_Draws a knife._
What mean you, madam? I have made no fault.
_Exit._
The man is innocent.
Melt Egypt into Nile, and kindly creatures
Turn all to serpents! Call the slave again.
Though I am mad, I will not bite him. Call!
_Exit Charmian._
These hands do lack nobility that they strike
A meaner than myself, since I myself
Have given myself the cause.
Enter the Messenger again with Charmian.
Though it be honest, it is never good
To bring bad news. Give to a gracious message
An host of tongues, but let ill tidings tell
Themselves when they be felt.
I cannot hate thee worser than I do
If thou again say "Yes."
So half my Egypt were submerged and made
A cistern for scaled snakes! Go, get thee hence.
Hadst thou Narcissus in thy face, to me
Thou wouldst appear most ugly. He is married?
To punish me for what you make me do
Seems much unequal. He's married to Octavia.
_Exit Messenger._
Lead me from hence;
I faint. O Iras, Charmian! 'Tis no matter.
Go to the fellow, good Alexas, bid him
Report the feature of Octavia, her years,
Her inclination; let him not leave out
The colour of her hair. Bring me word quickly.
_Exit Alexas._
Let him for ever go—let him not, Charmian. Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon, The other way 's a Mars. [_To Mardian_] Bid you Alexas Bring me word how tall she is. Pity me, Charmian, But do not speak to me. Lead me to my chamber.
_Exeunt._
SCENE VI. Near Misenum
Flourish. Enter Pompey and Menas at one door, with drum and trumpet; at another, Caesar, Lepidus, Antony, Enobarbus, Maecenas, Agrippa, with Soldiers marching.
And we shall talk before we fight.
That first we come to words, and therefore have we
Our written purposes before us sent,
Which if thou hast considered, let us know
If 'twill tie up thy discontented sword
And carry back to Sicily much tall youth
That else must perish here.
The senators alone of this great world,
Chief factors for the gods: I do not know
Wherefore my father should revengers want,
Having a son and friends, since Julius Caesar,
Who at Philippi the good Brutus ghosted,
There saw you labouring for him. What was't
That moved pale Cassius to conspire? And what
Made the all-honoured, honest Roman, Brutus,
With the armed rest, courtiers of beauteous freedom,
To drench the Capitol, but that they would
Have one man but a man? And that is it
Hath made me rig my navy, at whose burden
The angered ocean foams, with which I meant
To scourge th' ingratitude that despiteful Rome
Cast on my noble father.
We'll speak with thee at sea. At land thou know'st
How much we do o'ercount thee.
Thou dost o'ercount me of my father's house;
But since the cuckoo builds not for himself,
Remain in't as thou mayst.
For this is from the present—how you take
The offers we have sent you.
What it is worth embraced.
To try a larger fortune.
Of Sicily, Sardinia; and I must
Rid all the sea of pirates; then to send
Measures of wheat to Rome. This 'greed on,
To part with unhacked edges and bear back
Our targes undinted.
CAESAR, ANTONY, and LEPIDUS. That's our offer.
I came before you here a man prepared
To take this offer. But Mark Antony
Put me to some impatience. Though I lose
The praise of it by telling, you must know
When Caesar and your brother were at blows,
Your mother came to Sicily and did find
Her welcome friendly.
And am well studied for a liberal thanks
Which I do owe you.
I did not think, sir, to have met you here.
That called me timelier than my purpose hither,
For I have gained by 't.
There is a change on you.
What counts harsh Fortune casts on my face,
But in my bosom shall she never come
To make my heart her vassal.
I crave our composition may be written
And sealed between us.
Draw lots who shall begin.
But, first or last, your fine Egyptian cookery
Shall have the fame. I have heard that Julius Caesar
Grew fat with feasting there.
And I have heard Apollodorus carried—
And well am like to do, for I perceive
Four feasts are toward.
I never hated thee. I have seen thee fight
When I have envied thy behaviour.
I never loved you much, but I ha' praised ye
When you have well deserved ten times as much
As I have said you did.
It nothing ill becomes thee.
Aboard my galley I invite you all.
Will you lead, lords?
CAESAR, ANTONY, and LEPIDUS. Show's the way, sir.
_Exeunt all but Enobarbus and Menas._
_Exeunt._
SCENE VII. On board Pompey's Galley, lying near Misenum
Music. Enter two or three Servants with a banquet.
A sennet sounded. Enter Caesar, Antony, Pompey, Lepidus, Agrippa, Maecenas, Enobarbus, Menas with other Captains.
By certain scales i' th' pyramid; they know
By th' height, the lowness, or the mean, if dearth
Or foison follow. The higher Nilus swells,
The more it promises. As it ebbs, the seedsman
On the slime and ooze scatters his grain,
And shortly comes to harvest.
This wine for Lepidus!
_Rises and walks aside._
The matter?
Keep off them, for you sink.
That's twice.
And though you think me poor, I am the man
Will give thee all the world.
Thou art, if thou dar'st be, the earthly Jove.
Whate'er the ocean pales or sky inclips
Is thine, if thou wilt have't.
Are in thy vessel. Let me cut the cable,
And when we are put off, fall to their throats.
All then is thine.
And not have spoke on 't! In me 'tis villainy;
In thee 't had been good service. Thou must know
'Tis not my profit that does lead mine honour;
Mine honour it. Repent that e'er thy tongue
Hath so betray'd thine act. Being done unknown,
I should have found it afterwards well done,
But must condemn it now. Desist, and drink.
I'll never follow thy palled fortunes more.
Who seeks, and will not take when once 'tis offered,
Shall never find it more.
_Pointing to the servant who carries off Lepidus._
Here is to Caesar!
It's monstrous labour when I wash my brain
And it grows fouler.
But I had rather fast from all, four days,
Than drink so much in one.
Shall we dance now the Egyptian Bacchanals
And celebrate our drink?
Till that the conquering wine hath steeped our sense
In soft and delicate Lethe.
Make battery to our ears with the loud music,
The while I'll place you; then the boy shall sing.
The holding every man shall beat as loud
As his strong sides can volley.
Music plays. Enobarbus places them hand in hand.
Plumpy Bacchus with pink eyne!
In thy vats our cares be drowned,
With thy grapes our hairs be crowned.
Cup us till the world go round,
Cup us till the world go round!
You have my father's house.
But, what? We are friends. Come, down into the boat.
_Exeunt Pompey, Caesar, Antony and Attendants._
Menas, I'll not on shore.
_Sound a flourish with drums._
_Exeunt._
SCENE I. A plain in Syria
Enter Ventidius as it were in triumph, with Silius and other Romans, Officers and Soldiers; the dead body of Pacorus borne before him.
Pleased Fortune does of Marcus Crassus' death
Make me revenger. Bear the king's son's body
Before our army. Thy Pacorus, Orodes,
Pays this for Marcus Crassus.
While yet with Parthian blood thy sword is warm,
The fugitive Parthians follow. Spur through Media,
Mesopotamia, and the shelters whither
The routed fly. So thy grand captain Antony
Shall set thee on triumphant chariots, and
Put garlands on thy head.
I have done enough. A lower place, note well,
May make too great an act. For learn this, Silius:
Better to leave undone than by our deed
Acquire too high a fame when him we serve's away.
Caesar and Antony have ever won
More in their officer, than person. Sossius,
One of my place in Syria, his lieutenant,
For quick accumulation of renown,
Which he achieved by th' minute, lost his favour.
Who does i' th' wars more than his captain can
Becomes his captain's captain; and ambition,
The soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss
Than gain which darkens him.
I could do more to do Antonius good,
But 'twould offend him, and in his offence
Should my performance perish.
Without the which a soldier and his sword
Grants scarce distinction. Thou wilt write to Antony?
That magical word of war, we have effected;
How, with his banners, and his well-paid ranks,
The ne'er-yet-beaten horse of Parthia
We have jaded out o' th' field.
The weight we must convey with 's will permit,
We shall appear before him.—On there, pass along!
_Exeunt._
SCENE II. Rome. An Ante-chamber in Caesar's house
Enter Agrippa at one door, Enobarbus at another.
The other three are sealing. Octavia weeps
To part from Rome. Caesar is sad, and Lepidus,
Since Pompey's feast, as Menas says, is troubled
With the greensickness.
Hoo! Hearts, tongues, figures, scribes, bards, poets, cannot
Think, speak, cast, write, sing, number—hoo!—
His love to Antony. But as for Caesar,
Kneel down, kneel down, and wonder.
_Trumpets within._
So, This is to horse. Adieu, noble Agrippa.
Enter Caesar, Antony, Lepidus and Octavia.
Use me well in't. Sister, prove such a wife
As my thoughts make thee, and as my farthest bond
Shall pass on thy approof. Most noble Antony,
Let not the piece of virtue which is set
Betwixt us, as the cement of our love
To keep it builded, be the ram to batter
The fortress of it. For better might we
Have loved without this mean, if on both parts
This be not cherished.
In your distrust.
Though you be therein curious, the least cause
For what you seem to fear. So the gods keep you,
And make the hearts of Romans serve your ends.
We will here part.
The elements be kind to thee, and make
Thy spirits all of comfort! Fare thee well.
Her heart inform her tongue—the swan's-down feather,
That stands on the swell at the full of tide,
And neither way inclines.
When Antony found Julius Caesar dead,
He cried almost to roaring, and he wept
When at Philippi he found Brutus slain.
What willingly he did confound he wailed,
Believe 't, till I weep too.
You shall hear from me still. The time shall not
Outgo my thinking on you.
I'll wrestle with you in my strength of love.
Look, here I have you, thus I let you go,
And give you to the gods.
To thy fair way!
_Kisses Octavia._
_Trumpets sound. Exeunt._
SCENE III. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace
Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras and Alexas.
Enter a Messenger as before.
Herod of Jewry dare not look on you
But when you are well pleased.
I'll have! But how, when Antony is gone,
Through whom I might command it?—Come thou near.
I looked her in the face, and saw her led
Between her brother and Mark Antony.
What majesty is in her gait? Remember,
If e'er thou look'dst on majesty.
Her motion and her station are as one.
She shows a body rather than a life,
A statue than a breather.
Cannot make better note.
I do perceive't. There's nothing in her yet.
The fellow has good judgment.
She was a widow.
As low as she would wish it.
Thou must not take my former sharpness ill.
I will employ thee back again; I find thee
Most fit for business. Go make thee ready;
Our letters are prepared.
_Exit Messenger._
That so I harried him. Why, methinks, by him,
This creature's no such thing.
And serving you so long!
But 'tis no matter; thou shalt bring him to me
Where I will write. All may be well enough.
_Exeunt._
SCENE IV. Athens. A Room in Antony's House
Enter Antony and Octavia.
That were excusable, that and thousands more
Of semblable import—but he hath waged
New wars 'gainst Pompey; made his will, and read it
To public ear;
Spoke scantly of me; when perforce he could not
But pay me terms of honour, cold and sickly
He vented them; most narrow measure lent me;
When the best hint was given him, he not took 't,
Or did it from his teeth.
Believe not all, or if you must believe,
Stomach not all. A more unhappy lady,
If this division chance, ne'er stood between,
Praying for both parts.
The good gods will mock me presently
When I shall pray "O, bless my lord and husband!"
Undo that prayer by crying out as loud
"O, bless my brother!" Husband win, win brother,
Prays and destroys the prayer; no midway
'Twixt these extremes at all.
Let your best love draw to that point which seeks
Best to preserve it. If I lose mine honour,
I lose myself; better I were not yours
Than yours so branchless. But, as you requested,
Yourself shall go between's. The meantime, lady,
I'll raise the preparation of a war
Shall stain your brother. Make your soonest haste,
So your desires are yours.
The Jove of power make me, most weak, most weak,
Your reconciler! Wars 'twixt you twain would be
As if the world should cleave, and that slain men
Should solder up the rift.
Turn your displeasure that way, for our faults
Can never be so equal that your love
Can equally move with them. Provide your going;
Choose your own company, and command what cost
Your heart has mind to.
_Exeunt._
SCENE V. Athens. Another Room in Antony's House
Enter Enobarbus and Eros meeting.
And throw between them all the food thou hast,
They'll grind the one the other. Where's Antony?
The rush that lies before him; cries "Fool Lepidus!"
And threats the throat of that his officer
That murdered Pompey.
My lord desires you presently. My news
I might have told hereafter.
But let it be. Bring me to Antony.
_Exeunt._
SCENE VI. Rome. A Room in Caesar's House
Enter Agrippa, Maecenas and Caesar.
In Alexandria. Here's the manner of 't:
I' th' market-place, on a tribunal silvered,
Cleopatra and himself in chairs of gold
Were publicly enthroned. At the feet sat
Caesarion, whom they call my father's son,
And all the unlawful issue that their lust
Since then hath made between them. Unto her
He gave the stablishment of Egypt; made her
Of lower Syria, Cyprus, Lydia,
Absolute queen.
His sons he there proclaimed the kings of kings:
Great Media, Parthia, and Armenia
He gave to Alexander; to Ptolemy he assigned
Syria, Cilicia, and Phoenicia. She
In th' habiliments of the goddess Isis
That day appeared, and oft before gave audience,
As 'tis reported, so.
Will their good thoughts call from him.
His accusations.
Sextus Pompeius spoiled, we had not rated him
His part o' th' isle. Then does he say he lent me
Some shipping, unrestored. Lastly, he frets
That Lepidus of the triumvirate
Should be deposed and, being, that we detain
All his revenue.
I have told him Lepidus was grown too cruel,
That he his high authority abused,
And did deserve his change. For what I have conquered
I grant him part; but then in his Armenia
And other of his conquered kingdoms, I
Demand the like.
Enter Octavia with her train.
Like Caesar's sister. The wife of Antony
Should have an army for an usher, and
The neighs of horse to tell of her approach
Long ere she did appear. The trees by th' way
Should have borne men, and expectation fainted,
Longing for what it had not. Nay, the dust
Should have ascended to the roof of heaven,
Raised by your populous troops. But you are come
A market-maid to Rome, and have prevented
The ostentation of our love, which, left unshown,
Is often left unloved. We should have met you
By sea and land, supplying every stage
With an augmented greeting.
To come thus was I not constrained, but did it
On my free will. My lord, Mark Antony,
Hearing that you prepared for war, acquainted
My grieved ear withal, whereon I begged
His pardon for return.
Being an abstract 'tween his lust and him.
And his affairs come to me on the wind.
Where is he now?
Hath nodded him to her. He hath given his empire
Up to a whore, who now are levying
The kings o' th' earth for war. He hath assembled
Bocchus, the king of Libya; Archelaus
Of Cappadocia; Philadelphos, king
Of Paphlagonia; the Thracian king, Adallas;
King Manchus of Arabia; King of Pont;
Herod of Jewry; Mithridates, king
Of Comagene; Polemon and Amyntas,
The kings of Mede and Lycaonia,
With a more larger list of sceptres.
That have my heart parted betwixt two friends
That does afflict each other!
Your letters did withhold our breaking forth
Till we perceived both how you were wrong led
And we in negligent danger. Cheer your heart.
Be you not troubled with the time, which drives
O'er your content these strong necessities,
But let determined things to destiny
Hold unbewailed their way. Welcome to Rome,
Nothing more dear to me. You are abused
Beyond the mark of thought, and the high gods,
To do you justice, make their ministers
Of us and those that love you. Best of comfort,
And ever welcome to us.
Each heart in Rome does love and pity you.
Only th' adulterous Antony, most large
In his abominations, turns you off
And gives his potent regiment to a trull
That noises it against us.
Be ever known to patience. My dear'st sister!
_Exeunt._
SCENE VII. Antony's Camp near the Promontory of Actium
Enter Cleopatra and Enobarbus.
And say'st it is not fit.
If we should serve with horse and mares together,
The horse were merely lost. The mares would bear
A soldier and his horse.
Take from his heart, take from his brain, from 's time,
What should not then be spared. He is already
Traduced for levity, and 'tis said in Rome
That Photinus, an eunuch, and your maids
Manage this war.
That speak against us! A charge we bear i' th' war,
And, as the president of my kingdom, will
Appear there for a man. Speak not against it.
I will not stay behind.
Enter Antony and Canidius.
Here comes the Emperor.
That from Tarentum and Brundusium
He could so quickly cut the Ionian sea
And take in Toryne?—You have heard on 't, sweet?
Than by the negligent.
Which might have well becomed the best of men
To taunt at slackness.—Canidius, we
Will fight with him by sea.
Where Caesar fought with Pompey. But these offers,
Which serve not for his vantage, he shakes off,
And so should you.
Your mariners are muleteers, reapers, people
Engrossed by swift impress. In Caesar's fleet
Are those that often have 'gainst Pompey fought.
Their ships are yare, yours heavy. No disgrace
Shall fall you for refusing him at sea,
Being prepared for land.
The absolute soldiership you have by land;
Distract your army, which doth most consist
Of war-marked footmen; leave unexecuted
Your own renowned knowledge; quite forgo
The way which promises assurance; and
Give up yourself merely to chance and hazard
From firm security.
And with the rest full-manned, from th' head of Actium
Beat th' approaching Caesar. But if we fail,
We then can do 't at land.
Enter a Messenger.
Caesar has taken Toryne.
Strange that his power should be. Canidius,
Our nineteen legions thou shalt hold by land,
And our twelve thousand horse. We'll to our ship.
Away, my Thetis!
Enter a Soldier.
Trust not to rotten planks. Do you misdoubt
This sword and these my wounds? Let th' Egyptians
And the Phoenicians go a-ducking. We
Have used to conquer standing on the earth
And fighting foot to foot.
_Exeunt Antony, Cleopatra and Enobarbus._
Not in the power on 't. So our leader's led,
And we are women's men.
The legions and the horse whole, do you not?
Publicola, and Caelius are for sea,
But we keep whole by land. This speed of Caesar's
Carries beyond belief.
His power went out in such distractions as
Beguiled all spies.
Enter a Messenger.
_Exeunt._
SCENE VIII. A plain near Actium
Enter Caesar with his army and Taurus marching.
Till we have done at sea. Do not exceed
The prescript of this scroll. Our fortune lies
On this jump.
_Exeunt._
SCENE IX. Another part of the Plain
Enter Antony and Enobarbus.
In eye of Caesar's battle, from which place
We may the number of the ships behold
And so proceed accordingly.
_Exeunt._
SCENE X. Another part of the Plain
Canidius marching with his land army one way over the stage, and Taurus, the Lieutenant of Caesar, with his Army, the other way. After their going in, is heard the noise of a sea fight. Alarum. Enter Enobarbus.
Th' Antoniad, the Egyptian admiral,
With all their sixty, fly and turn the rudder.
To see 't mine eyes are blasted.
Enter Scarus.
All the whole synod of them!
With very ignorance. We have kissed away
Kingdoms and provinces.
Where death is sure. Yon ribaudred nag of Egypt,
Whom leprosy o'ertake, i' th' midst o' th' fight,
When vantage like a pair of twins appeared,
Both as the same—or, rather, ours the elder—
The breeze on her, like a cow in June,
Hoists sails and flies.
Mine eyes did sicken at the sight and could not
Endure a further view.
The noble ruin of her magic, Antony,
Claps on his sea-wing and, like a doting mallard,
Leaving the fight in height, flies after her.
I never saw an action of such shame.
Experience, manhood, honour, ne'er before
Did violate so itself.
Enter Canidius.
And sinks most lamentably. Had our general
Been what he knew himself, it had gone well.
O, he has given example for our flight
Most grossly by his own!
Why, then, good night indeed.
What further comes.
My legions and my horse. Six kings already
Show me the way of yielding.
The wounded chance of Antony, though my reason
Sits in the wind against me.
_Exeunt._
SCENE XI. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace
Enter Antony with attendants.
It is ashamed to bear me. Friends, come hither.
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 Caesar.
To run and show their shoulders. Friends, be gone.
I have myself resolved on a course
Which has no need of you. Be gone.
My treasure's in the harbour. Take it. O,
I followed that I blush to look on.
My very hairs do mutiny, for the white
Reprove the brown for rashness, and they them
For fear and doting. Friends, be gone. You shall
Have letters from me to some friends that will
Sweep your way for you. Pray you, look not sad,
Nor make replies of loathness. Take the hint
Which my despair proclaims. Let that be left
Which leaves itself. To the sea-side straightway.
I will possess you of that ship and treasure.
Leave me, I pray, a little—pray you, now,
Nay, do so; for indeed I have lost command.
Therefore I pray you. I'll see you by and by.
_Sits down._
Enter Cleopatra led by Charmian, Iras and Eros.
His sword e'en like a dancer, while I struck
The lean and wrinkled Cassius, and 'twas I
That the mad Brutus ended. He alone
Dealt on lieutenantry, and no practice had
In the brave squares of war. Yet now—no matter.
He is unqualitied with very shame.
Her head's declined, and death will seize her but
Your comfort makes the rescue.
A most unnoble swerving.
How I convey my shame out of thine eyes
By looking back what I have left behind
'Stroyed in dishonour.
Forgive my fearful sails! I little thought
You would have followed.
My heart was to thy rudder tied by th' strings,
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.
To the young man send humble treaties, dodge
And palter in the shifts of lowness, who
With half the bulk o' th' world played as I pleased,
Making and marring fortunes. You did know
How much you were my conqueror, and that
My sword, made weak by my affection, would
Obey it on all cause.
All that is won and lost. Give me a kiss.
Even this repays me.
We sent our schoolmaster. Is he come back?
Love, I am full of lead. Some wine
Within there, and our viands! Fortune knows
_Exeunt._
SCENE XII. Caesar's camp in Egypt
Enter Caesar, Agrippa, Dolabella with others.
Know you him?
An argument that he is plucked, when hither
He sends so poor a pinion of his wing,
Which had superfluous kings for messengers
Not many moons gone by.
Enter Ambassador from Anthony.
I was of late as petty to his ends
As is the morn-dew on the myrtle leaf
To his grand sea.
Requires to live in Egypt, which not granted,
He lessens his requests, and to thee sues
To let him breathe between the heavens and earth,
A private man in Athens. This for him.
Next, Cleopatra does confess thy greatness,
Submits her to thy might, and of thee craves
The circle of the Ptolemies for her heirs,
Now hazarded to thy grace.
I have no ears to his request. The queen
Of audience nor desire shall fail, so she
From Egypt drive her all-disgraced friend,
Or take his life there. This if she perform,
She shall not sue unheard. So to them both.
_Exit Ambassador, attended._
[_To Thidias_.] To try thy eloquence now 'tis time. Dispatch. From Antony win Cleopatra. Promise, And in our name, what she requires; add more, From thine invention, offers. Women are not In their best fortunes strong, but want will perjure The ne'er-touch'd vestal. Try thy cunning, Thidias; Make thine own edict for thy pains, which we Will answer as a law.
And what thou think'st his very action speaks
In every power that moves.
_Exeunt._
SCENE XIII. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace
Enter Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Charmian and Iras.
Lord of his reason. What though you fled
From that great face of war, whose several ranges
Frighted each other? Why should he follow?
The itch of his affection should not then
Have nicked his captainship, at such a point,
When half to half the world opposed, he being
The mered question. 'Twas a shame no less
Than was his loss, to course your flying flags
And leave his navy gazing.
Enter the Ambassador with Antony.
Will yield us up.
To the boy Caesar send this grizzled head,
And he will fill thy wishes to the brim
With principalities.
Of youth on 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
As i' th' command of Caesar. I dare him therefore
To lay his gay comparisons apart,
And answer me declined, sword against sword,
Ourselves alone. I'll write it. Follow me.
_Exeunt Antony and Ambassador._
Unstate his happiness, and be staged to th' show
Against a sworder! I see men's judgments are
A parcel of their fortunes, and things outward
Do draw the inward quality after them
To suffer all alike. That he should dream,
Knowing all measures, the full Caesar will
Answer his emptiness! Caesar, thou hast subdued
His judgment too.
Enter a Servant.
Against the blown rose may they stop their nose
That kneeled unto the buds. Admit him, sir.
_Exit Servant._
The loyalty well held to fools does make
Our faith mere folly. Yet he that can endure
To follow with allegiance a fallen lord
Does conquer him that did his master conquer,
And earns a place i' th' story.
Enter Thidias.
Or needs not us. If Caesar please, our master
Will leap to be his friend. For us, you know
Whose he is we are, and that is Caesar's.
Thus then, thou most renowned: Caesar entreats
Not to consider in what case thou stand'st
Further than he is Caesar.
As you did love, but as you feared him.
Does pity as constrained blemishes,
Not as deserved.
What is most right. Mine honour was not yielded,
But conquered merely.
I will ask Antony. Sir, sir, thou art so leaky
That we must leave thee to thy sinking, for
Thy dearest quit thee.
_Exit Enobarbus._
What you require of him? For he partly begs
To be desired to give. It much would please him
That of his fortunes you should make a staff
To lean on. But it would warm his spirits
To hear from me you had left Antony,
And put yourself under his shroud,
The universal landlord.
Say to great Caesar this in deputation:
I kiss his conqu'ring hand. Tell him I am prompt
To lay my crown at's feet, and there to kneel.
Tell him, from his all-obeying breath I hear
The doom of Egypt.
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.
When he hath mused of taking kingdoms in,
Bestowed his lips on that unworthy place
As it rained kisses.
Enter Antony and Enobarbus.
What art thou, fellow?
The bidding of the fullest man and worthiest
To have command obeyed.
Enter Servants.
Than with an old one dying.
Whip him. Were't twenty of the greatest tributaries
That do acknowledge Caesar, should I find them
So saucy with the hand of she here—what's her name
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.
Bring him again. This jack of Caesar's shall
Bear us an errand to him.
_Exeunt Servants with Thidias._
You were half blasted ere I knew you. Ha!
Have I my pillow left unpressed in Rome,
Forborne the getting of a lawful race,
And by a gem of women, to be abused
By one that looks on feeders?
But when we in our viciousness grow hard—
O misery on't!—the wise gods seal our eyes,
In our own filth drop our clear judgments, make us
Adore our errors, laugh at's while we strut
To our confusion.
Dead Caesar's trencher; nay, you were a fragment
Of Gneius Pompey's, besides what hotter hours,
Unregistered in vulgar fame, you have
Luxuriously pick'd out. For I am sure,
Though you can guess what temperance should be,
You know not what it is.
And say "God quit you!" be familiar with
My playfellow, your hand, this kingly seal
And plighter of high hearts! O that I were
On the hill of Basan, to outroar
The horned herd! For I have savage cause,
And to proclaim it civilly were like
A haltered neck which does the hangman thank
For being yare about him.
Enter a Servant with Thidias.
Thou wast not made his daughter; and be thou sorry
To follow Caesar in his triumph, since
Thou hast been whipped for following him. Henceforth
The white hand of a lady fever thee;
Shake thou to look on't. Get thee back to Caesar;
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,
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 th' abysm of hell. If he mislike
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.
Hence with thy stripes, be gone.
_Exit Thidias._
And it portends alone the fall of Antony.
With one that ties his points?
From my cold heart let heaven engender hail
And poison it in the source, and the first stone
Drop in my neck; as it determines, so
Dissolve my life! The next Caesarion smite,
Till, by degrees the memory of my womb,
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!
Caesar sits down in Alexandria, where
I will oppose his fate. Our force by land
Hath nobly held; our severed navy too
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.
I and my sword will earn our chronicle.
There's hope in't yet.
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,
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.
I had thought t'have held it poor, but since my lord
Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra.
_Exeunt all but Enobarbus._
Is to be frighted out of fear, and in that mood
The dove will peck the estridge; and I see still
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._
SCENE I. Caesar's Camp at Alexandria
Enter Caesar, Agrippa, and Maecenas, with his army. Caesar reading a letter.
To beat me out of Egypt. My messenger
He hath whipped with rods; dares me to personal combat,
Caesar to Antony. Let the old ruffian know
I have many other ways to die; meantime
Laugh at his challenge.
When one so great begins to rage, he's hunted
Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now
Make boot of his distraction. Never anger
Made good guard for itself.
Know that tomorrow the last of many battles
We mean to fight. Within our files there are,
Of those that served Mark Antony but late,
Enough to fetch him in. See it done,
And feast the army; we have store to do't,
And they have earned the waste. Poor Antony!
_Exeunt._
SCENE II. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace
Enter Antony, Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Charmian, Iras, Alexas with others.
He is twenty men to one.
By sea and land I'll fight. Or I will live,
Or bathe my dying honour in the blood
Shall make it live again. Woo't thou fight well?
Call forth my household servants. Let's tonight
Be bounteous at our meal.—
Enter Servants.
Thou has been rightly honest; so hast thou,
Thou, and thou, and thou. You have served me well,
And kings have been your fellows.
shoots
Out of the mind.
I wish I could be made so many men,
And all of you clapped up together in
An Antony, that I might do you service
So good as you have done.
Scant not my cups, and make as much of me
As when mine empire was your fellow too
And suffered my command.
May be it is the period of your duty.
Haply you shall not see me more, or if,
A mangled shadow. Perchance tomorrow
You'll serve another master. I look on you
As one that takes his leave. Mine honest friends,
I turn you not away, but, like a master
Married to your good service, stay till death.
Tend me tonight two hours, I ask no more,
And the gods yield you for't!
To give them this discomfort? Look, they weep,
And I, an ass, am onion-eyed. For shame,
Transform us not to women.
Now the witch take me if I meant it thus!
Grace grow where those drops fall! My hearty friends,
You take me in too dolorous a sense,
For I spake to you for your comfort, did desire you
To burn this night with torches. Know, my hearts,
I hope well of tomorrow, and will lead you
Where rather I'll expect victorious life
Than death and honour. Let's to supper, come,
And drown consideration.
_Exeunt._
SCENE III. Alexandria. Before the Palace
Enter a Company of Soldiers.
Heard you of nothing strange about the streets?
Enter two other Soldiers.
_They place themselves in every corner of the stage._
Our navy thrive, I have an absolute hope
Our landmen will stand up.
_Music of the hautboys under the stage._
Now leaves him.
Do hear what we do.
_They advance to another post._
Let's see how it will give off.
_Exeunt._
SCENE IV. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace
Enter Antony and Cleopatra with others.
Enter Eros with armour.
If fortune be not ours today, it is
Because we brave her. Come.
What's this for?
We shall thrive now. Seest thou, my good fellow?
Go put on thy defences.
He that unbuckles this, till we do please
To daff't for our repose, shall hear a storm.
Thou fumblest, Eros, and my queen's a squire
More tight at this than thou. Dispatch. O love,
That thou couldst see my wars today, and knew'st
The royal occupation, thou shouldst see
A workman in't.
Enter an Officer, armed.
Thou look'st like him that knows a warlike charge.
To business that we love we rise betime
And go to't with delight.
Early though't be, have on their riveted trim
And at the port expect you.
_Shout. Trumpets flourish._
Enter other Captains and Soldiers.
This morning, like the spirit of a youth
That means to be of note, begins betimes.
So, so. Come, give me that. This way. Well said.
Fare thee well, dame.
Whate'er becomes of me,
This is a soldier's kiss. [_Kisses her._] Rebukeable
And worthy shameful check it were, to stand
On more mechanic compliment. I'll leave thee
Now like a man of steel.—You that will fight,
Follow me close, I'll bring you to't. Adieu.
_Exeunt Antony, Eros, Captains and Soldiers._
He goes forth gallantly. That he and Caesar might
Determine this great war in single fight!
Then Antony—but now—. Well, on.
_Exeunt._
SCENE V. Antony's camp near Alexandria
Trumpets sound. Enter Antony and Eros, a Soldier meeting them.
The kings that have revolted and the soldier
That has this morning left thee would have still
Followed thy heels.
One ever near thee. Call for Enobarbus,
He shall not hear thee, or from Caesar's camp
Say "I am none of thine."
He is with Caesar.
He has not with him.
Detain no jot, I charge thee. Write to him—
I will subscribe—gentle adieus and greetings.
Say that I wish he never find more cause
To change a master. O, my fortunes have
Corrupted honest men! Dispatch.—Enobarbus!
_Exeunt._
SCENE VI. Alexandria. Caesar's camp
Flourish. Enter Agrippa, Caesar with Enobarbus and Dolabella.
Our will is Antony be took alive;
Make it so known.
_Exit._
Prove this a prosp'rous day, the three-nooked world
Shall bear the olive freely.
Enter a Messenger.
Is come into the field.
Plant those that have revolted in the van
That Antony may seem to spend his fury
On himself.
_Exeunt Caesar and his Train._
Affairs of Antony; there did dissuade
Great Herod to incline himself to Caesar
And leave his master Antony. For this pains
Caesar hath hanged him. Canidius and the rest
That fell away have entertainment but
No honourable trust. I have done ill,
Of which I do accuse myself so sorely
That I will joy no more.
Enter a Soldier of Caesar's.
Hath after thee sent all thy treasure, with
His bounty overplus. The messenger
Came on my guard, and at thy tent is now
Unloading of his mules.
I tell you true. Best you safed the bringer
Out of the host. I must attend mine office,
Or would have done't myself. Your emperor
Continues still a Jove.
_Exit._
And feel I am so most. O Antony,
Thou mine of bounty, how wouldst thou have paid
My better service, when my turpitude
Thou dost so crown with gold! This blows my heart.
If swift thought break it not, a swifter mean
Shall outstrike thought, but thought will do't, I feel.
I fight against thee! No, I will go seek
Some ditch wherein to die; the foul'st best fits
My latter part of life.
_Exit._
SCENE VII. Field of battle between the Camps
Alarum. Drums and Trumpets. Enter Agrippa and others.
Caesar himself has work, and our oppression
Exceeds what we expected.
_Exeunt._
Alarums. Enter Antony and Scarus wounded.
Had we done so at first, we had droven them home
With clouts about their heads.
But now 'tis made an H.
_Sounds retreat far off._
Room for six scotches more.
Enter Eros.
For a fair victory.
And snatch 'em up as we take hares, behind.
'Tis sport to maul a runner.
Once for thy sprightly comfort, and tenfold
For thy good valour. Come thee on.
_Exeunt._
SCENE VIII. Under the Walls of Alexandria
Alarum. Enter Antony again in a march; Scarus with others.
And let the Queen know of our gests.
Tomorrow,
Before the sun shall see's, we'll spill the blood
That has today escaped. I thank you all,
For doughty-handed are you, and have fought
Not as you served the cause, but as't had been
Each man's like mine. You have shown all Hectors.
Enter the city, clip your wives, your friends,
Wash the congealment from your wounds and kiss
The honoured gashes whole.
Enter Cleopatra.
[_To Scarus_.] Give me thy hand. To this great fairy I'll commend thy acts, Make her thanks bless thee. O thou day o' th' world, Chain mine armed neck. Leap thou, attire and all, Through proof of harness to my heart, and there Ride on the pants triumphing
O infinite virtue, com'st thou smiling from
The world's great snare uncaught?
We have beat them to their beds. What, girl! Though grey
Do something mingle with our younger brown, yet ha' we
A brain that nourishes our nerves and can
Get goal for goal of youth. Behold this man.
Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand.—
Kiss it, my warrior. He hath fought today
As if a god, in hate of mankind, had
Destroyed in such a shape.
An armour all of gold. It was a king's.
Like holy Phœbus' car. Give me thy hand.
Through Alexandria make a jolly march;
Bear our hacked targets like the men that owe them.
Had our great palace the capacity
To camp this host, we all would sup together
And drink carouses to the next day's fate,
Which promises royal peril.—Trumpeters,
With brazen din blast you the city's ear;
Make mingle with our rattling tabourines,
That heaven and earth may strike their sounds together,
Applauding our approach.
_Exeunt._
SCENE IX. Caesar's camp
Enter a Sentry and his company. Enobarbus follows.
We must return to th' court of guard. The night
Is shiny, and they say we shall embattle
By th' second hour i' th' morn.
When men revolted shall on record
Bear hateful memory, poor Enobarbus did
Before thy face repent.
The poisonous damp of night disponge on me,
That life, a very rebel to my will,
May hang no longer on me. Throw my heart
Against the flint and hardness of my fault,
Which, being dried with grief, will break to powder
And finish all foul thoughts. O Antony,
Nobler than my revolt is infamous,
Forgive me in thine own particular,
But let the world rank me in register
A master-leaver and a fugitive.
O Antony! O Antony!
_Dies._
Was never yet for sleep.
_Drums afar off._
Hark! The drums
Demurely wake the sleepers. Let us bear him
To th' court of guard; he is of note. Our hour
Is fully out.
_Exeunt with the body._
SCENE X. Ground between the two Camps
Enter Antony and Scarus with their army.
We please them not by land.
We'd fight there too. But this it is: our foot
On the hills adjoining to the city
Shall stay with us—order for sea is given;
They have put forth the haven—
Where their appointment we may best discover
And look on their endeavour.
_Exeunt._
SCENE XI. Another part of the Ground
Enter Caesar and his army.
Which, as I take't, we shall, for his best force
Is forth to man his galleys. To the vales,
And hold our best advantage.
_Exeunt._
SCENE XII. Another part of the Ground
Alarum afar off, as at a sea fight. Enter Antony and Scarus.
I shall discover all. I'll bring thee word
Straight how 'tis like to go.
_Exit._
In Cleopatra's sails their nests. The augurs
Say they know not, they cannot tell; look grimly,
And dare not speak their knowledge. Antony
Is valiant and dejected, and by starts
His fretted fortunes give him hope and fear
Of what he has and has not.
Enter Antony.
This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me.
My fleet hath yielded to the foe, and yonder
They cast their caps up and carouse together
Like friends long lost. Triple-turned whore! 'Tis thou
Hast sold me to this novice, and my heart
Makes only wars on thee. Bid them all fly;
For when I am revenged on my charm,
I have done all. Bid them all fly! Be gone!
_Exit Scarus._
O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more.
Fortune and Antony part here; even here
Do we shake hands. All come to this! The hearts
That spanieled me at heels, to whom I gave
Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets
On blossoming Caesar, and this pine is barked
That overtopped them all. Betray'd I am:
O this false soul of Egypt! This grave charm,
Whose eye becked forth my wars and called them home,
Whose bosom was my crownet, my chief end,
Like a right gypsy hath at fast and loose
Beguiled me to the very heart of loss.
What, Eros, Eros!
Enter Cleopatra.
And blemish Caesar's triumph. Let him take thee
And hoist thee up to the shouting plebeians!
Follow his chariot, like the greatest spot
Of all thy sex; most monster-like be shown
For poor'st diminutives, for dolts, and let
Patient Octavia plough thy visage up
With her prepared nails.
_Exit Cleopatra._
'Tis well thou'rt gone,
If it be well to live; but better 'twere
Thou fell'st into my fury, for one death
Might have prevented many.—Eros, ho!—
The shirt of Nessus is on me. Teach me,
Alcides, thou mine ancestor, thy rage.
Let me lodge Lichas on the horns o' th' moon,
And with those hands that grasped the heaviest club
Subdue my worthiest self. The witch shall die.
To the young Roman boy she hath sold me, and I fall
Under this plot. She dies for't.—Eros, ho!
_Exit._
SCENE XIII. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace
Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras and Mardian.
Than Telamon for his shield; the boar of Thessaly
Was never so embossed.
There lock yourself and send him word you are dead.
The soul and body rive not more in parting
Than greatness going off.
Mardian, go tell him I have slain myself.
Say that the last I spoke was "Antony",
And word it, prithee, piteously. Hence, Mardian,
And bring me how he takes my death.—To th' monument!
_Exeunt._
SCENE XIV. Alexandria. Another Room
Enter Antony and Eros.
A vapour sometime like a bear or lion,
A towered citadel, a pendant rock,
A forked mountain, or blue promontory
With trees on't, that nod unto the world
And mock our eyes with air. Thou hast seen these signs.
They are black vesper's pageants.
The rack dislimns and makes it indistinct
As water is in water.
Even such a body. Here I am Antony,
Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave.
I made these wars for Egypt, and the Queen,
Whose heart I thought I had, for she had mine,
Which, while it was mine, had annexed unto't
A million more, now lost—she, Eros, has
Packed cards with Caesar, and false-played my glory
Unto an enemy's triumph.
Nay, weep not, gentle Eros. There is left us
Ourselves to end ourselves.
Enter Mardian.
My mistress loved thee and her fortunes mingled
With thine entirely.
She hath betrayed me and shall die the death.
And that she has discharged. What thou wouldst do
Is done unto thy hand. The last she spake
Was "Antony! Most noble Antony!"
Then in the midst a tearing groan did break
The name of Antony; it was divided
Between her heart and lips. She rendered life,
Thy name so buried in her.
And we must sleep.—That thou depart'st hence safe
Does pay thy labour richly. Go.
_Exit Mardian._
Off, pluck off!
The sevenfold shield of Ajax cannot keep
The battery from my heart. O, cleave, my sides!
Heart, once be stronger than thy continent;
Crack thy frail case! Apace, Eros, apace!
No more a soldier. Bruised pieces, go;
You have been nobly borne. From me awhile.
_Exit Eros._
I will o'ertake thee, Cleopatra, and
Weep for my pardon. So it must be, for now
All length is torture. Since the torch is out,
Lie down, and stray no farther. Now all labour
Mars what it does; yea, very force entangles
Itself with strength. Seal then, and all is done.
Eros!—I come, my queen.—Eros!—Stay for me.
Where souls do couch on flowers, we'll hand in hand,
And with our sprightly port make the ghosts gaze.
Dido and her Aeneas shall want troops,
And all the haunt be ours.—Come, Eros, Eros!
Enter Eros.
I have lived in such dishonour that the gods
Detest my baseness. I, that with my sword
Quartered the world, and o'er green Neptune's back
With ships made cities, condemn myself to lack
The courage of a woman; less noble mind
Than she which, by her death, our Caesar tells
"I am conqueror of myself." Thou art sworn, Eros,
That when the exigent should come, which now
Is come indeed, when I should see behind me
Th' inevitable prosecution of
Disgrace and horror, that on my command
Thou then wouldst kill me. Do't. The time is come.
Thou strik'st not me; 'tis Caesar thou defeat'st.
Put colour in thy cheek.
Shall I do that which all the Parthian darts,
Though enemy, lost aim and could not?
Wouldst thou be windowed in great Rome and see
Thy master thus with pleached arms, bending down
His corrigible neck, his face subdued
To penetrative shame, while the wheeled seat
Of fortunate Caesar, drawn before him, branded
His baseness that ensued?
Draw that thy honest sword, which thou hast worn
Most useful for thy country.
To do this when I bade thee? Do it at once,
Or thy precedent services are all
But accidents unpurposed. Draw, and come.
Wherein the worship of the whole world lies.
_Turning from him._
The thing why thou hast drawn it.
My captain and my emperor, let me say,
Before I strike this bloody stroke, farewell.
Thus do I escape the sorrow
Of Antony's death.
_Dies._
Thou teachest me, O valiant Eros, what
I should and thou couldst not. My queen and Eros
Have by their brave instruction got on me
A nobleness in record. But I will be
A bridegroom in my death and run into't
As to a lover's bed. Come then, and, Eros,
Thy master dies thy scholar. To do thus
_Falling on his sword._
I learned of thee. How? Not dead? Not dead? The guard, ho! O, dispatch me!
Enter a company of the Guard, one of them Dercetus.
Of what I have begun.
_Exeunt guard._
This sword but shown to Caesar with this tidings,
Shall enter me with him.
Enter Diomedes.
_Exit Dercetus._
My mistress Cleopatra sent me to thee.
Of what hath come to pass. For when she saw—
Which never shall be found—you did suspect
She had disposed with Caesar, and that your rage
Would not be purged, she sent you word she was dead;
But fearing since how it might work, hath sent
Me to proclaim the truth, and I am come,
I dread, too late.
Enter four or five of the Guard of Antony.
'Tis the last service that I shall command you.
All your true followers out.
To grace it with your sorrows. Bid that welcome
Which comes to punish us, and we punish it,
Seeming to bear it lightly. Take me up.
I have led you oft; carry me now, good friends,
And have my thanks for all.
_Exeunt, bearing Antony._
SCENE XV. Alexandria. A monument
Enter Cleopatra and her maids aloft, with Charmian and Iras.
All strange and terrible events are welcome,
But comforts we despise. Our size of sorrow,
Proportioned to our cause, must be as great
As that which makes it.
Enter, below Diomedes.
Look out o' th' other side your monument;
His guard have brought him thither.
Enter, below Antony borne by the Guard.
Not Caesar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony,
But Antony's hath triumphed on itself.
Should conquer Antony, but woe 'tis so!
I here importune death awhile until
Of many thousand kisses the poor last
I lay on thy lips.
Dear my lord, pardon. I dare not,
Lest I be taken. Not th' imperious show
Of the full-fortuned Caesar ever shall
Be brooched with me; if knife, drugs, serpents, have
Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe.
Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes
And still conclusion, shall acquire no honour
Demuring on me. But come, come, Antony—
Help me, my women—we must draw thee up.
Assist, good friends.
Our strength is all gone into heaviness;
That makes the weight. Had I great Juno's power,
The strong-winged Mercury should fetch thee up
And set thee by Jove's side. Yet come a little;
Wishers were ever fools. O come, come come,
_They heave Antony aloft to Cleopatra._
And welcome, welcome! Die where thou hast lived;
Quicken with kissing. Had my lips that power,
Thus would I wear them out.
Give me some wine, and let me speak a little.
That the false huswife Fortune break her wheel,
Provoked by my offence.
Of Caesar seek your honour, with your safety. O!
None about Caesar trust but Proculeius.
None about Caesar.
Lament nor sorrow at, but please your thoughts
In feeding them with those my former fortunes
Wherein I lived the greatest prince o' th' world,
The noblest; and do now not basely die,
Not cowardly put off my helmet to
My countryman; a Roman by a Roman
Valiantly vanquished. Now my spirit is going;
I can no more.
Hast thou no care of me? Shall I abide
In this dull world, which in thy absence is
No better than a sty? O, see, my women,
_ Antony dies._
The crown o' th' earth doth melt.—My lord!
O, withered is the garland of the war,
The soldier's pole is fallen; young boys and girls
Are level now with men. The odds is gone,
And there is nothing left remarkable
Beneath the visiting moon.
_Faints._
By such poor passion as the maid that milks
And does the meanest chares. It were for me
To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods,
To tell them that this world did equal theirs
Till they had stolen our jewel. All's but naught;
Patience is sottish, and impatience does
Become a dog that's mad. Then is it sin
To rush into the secret house of death
Ere death dare come to us? How do you, women?
What, what! good cheer! Why, how now, Charmian?
My noble girls! Ah, women, women! Look,
Our lamp is spent, it's out! Good sirs, take heart.
We'll bury him; and then, what's brave, what's noble,
Let's do it after the high Roman fashion
And make death proud to take us. Come, away.
This case of that huge spirit now is cold.
Ah, women, women! Come, we have no friend
But resolution and the briefest end.
_Exeunt, bearing off Antony's body._
SCENE I. Caesar's Camp before Alexandria
Enter Caesar, Agrippa, Dolabella, Maecenas, Gallus, Proculeius with his council of war.
Being so frustrate, tell him, he mocks
The pauses that he makes.
_Exit._
Enter Dercetus with the sword of Antony.
Appear thus to us?
Mark Antony I served, who best was worthy
Best to be served. While he stood up and spoke,
He was my master, and I wore my life
To spend on his haters. If thou please
To take me to thee, as I was to him
I'll be to Caesar; if thou pleasest not,
I yield thee up my life.
A greater crack. The round world
Should have shook lions into civil streets,
And citizens to their dens. The death of Antony
Is not a single doom; in the name lay
A moiety of the world.
Not by a public minister of justice,
Nor by a hired knife, but that self hand
Which writ his honour in the acts it did
Hath, with the courage which the heart did lend it,
Splitted the heart. This is his sword.
I robbed his wound of it. Behold it stained
With his most noble blood.
The gods rebuke me, but it is tidings
To wash the eyes of kings.
That nature must compel us to lament
Our most persisted deeds.
Waged equal with him.
Did steer humanity, but you gods will give us
Some faults to make us men. Caesar is touched.
He needs must see himself.
I have followed thee to this, but we do lance
Diseases in our bodies. I must perforce
Have shown to thee such a declining day
Or look on thine. We could not stall together
In the whole world. But yet let me lament
With tears as sovereign as the blood of hearts,
That thou, my brother, my competitor
In top of all design, my mate in empire,
Friend and companion in the front of war,
The arm of mine own body, and the heart
Where mine his thoughts did kindle, that our stars,
Unreconciliable, should divide
Our equalness to this. Hear me, good friends—
Enter an Egyptian.
The business of this man looks out of him;
We'll hear him what he says. Whence are you?
Confined in all she has, her monument,
Of thy intents desires instruction,
That she preparedly may frame herself
To the way she's forced to.
She soon shall know of us, by some of ours,
How honourable and how kindly we
Determine for her. For Caesar cannot lean
To be ungentle.
_Exit._
We purpose her no shame. Give her what comforts
The quality of her passion shall require,
Lest, in her greatness, by some mortal stroke
She do defeat us, for her life in Rome
Would be eternal in our triumph. Go,
And with your speediest bring us what she says
And how you find of her.
_Exit Proculeius._
_Exit Gallus._
Where's Dolabella, to second Proculeius?
How he's employed. He shall in time be ready.
Go with me to my tent, where you shall see
How hardly I was drawn into this war,
How calm and gentle I proceeded still
In all my writings. Go with me and see
What I can show in this.
_Exeunt._
SCENE II. Alexandria. A Room in the Monument
Enter Cleopatra, Charmian and Iras.
A better life. 'Tis paltry to be Caesar;
Not being Fortune, he's but Fortune's knave,
A minister of her will. And it is great
To do that thing that ends all other deeds,
Which shackles accidents and bolts up change,
Which sleeps and never palates more the dung,
The beggar's nurse and Caesar's.
Enter Proculeius.
And bids thee study on what fair demands
Thou mean'st to have him grant thee.
Did tell me of you, bade me trust you, but
I do not greatly care to be deceived
That have no use for trusting. If your master
Would have a queen his beggar, you must tell him
That majesty, to keep decorum, must
No less beg than a kingdom. If he please
To give me conquered Egypt for my son,
He gives me so much of mine own as I
Will kneel to him with thanks.
You are fallen into a princely hand; fear nothing.
Make your full reference freely to my lord,
Who is so full of grace that it flows over
On all that need. Let me report to him
Your sweet dependency, and you shall find
A conqueror that will pray in aid for kindness
Where he for grace is kneeled to.
I am his fortune's vassal and I send him
The greatness he has got. I hourly learn
A doctrine of obedience, and would gladly
Look him i' th' face.
Have comfort, for I know your plight is pitied
Of him that caused it.
Enter Gallus and Roman Soldiers.
_Drawing a dagger._
_Seizes and disarms her._
Do not yourself such wrong, who are in this Relieved, but not betrayed.
That rids our dogs of languish?
Do not abuse my master's bounty by
Th' undoing of yourself. Let the world see
His nobleness well acted, which your death
Will never let come forth.
Come hither, come! Come, come, and take a queen
Worth many babes and beggars!
If idle talk will once be necessary,
I'll not sleep neither. This mortal house I'll ruin,
Do Caesar what he can. Know, sir, that I
Will not wait pinioned at your master's court,
Nor once be chastised with the sober eye
Of dull Octavia. Shall they hoist me up
And show me to the shouting varletry
Of censuring Rome? Rather a ditch in Egypt
Be gentle grave unto me! Rather on Nilus' mud
Lay me stark-naked, and let the water-flies
Blow me into abhorring! Rather make
My country's high pyramides my gibbet
And hang me up in chains!
These thoughts of horror further than you shall
Find cause in Caesar.
Enter Dolabella.
What thou hast done thy master Caesar knows,
And he hath sent for thee. For the queen,
I'll take her to my guard.
It shall content me best. Be gentle to her.
[_To Cleopatra._] To Caesar I will speak what you shall please,
If you'll employ me to him.
_Exeunt Proculeius and Soldiers._
You laugh when boys or women tell their dreams;
Is't not your trick?
O, such another sleep, that I might see
But such another man!
A sun and moon, which kept their course, and lighted
The little O, the earth.
Crested the world; his voice was propertied
As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends;
But when he meant to quail and shake the orb,
He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty,
There was no winter in't; an autumn 'twas
That grew the more by reaping. His delights
Were dolphin-like; they showed his back above
The element they lived in. In his livery
Walked crowns and crownets; realms and islands were
As plates dropped from his pocket.
As this I dreamt of?
But if there be nor ever were one such,
It's past the size of dreaming. Nature wants stuff
To vie strange forms with fancy; yet t' imagine
An Antony were nature's piece 'gainst fancy,
Condemning shadows quite.
Your loss is, as yourself, great; and you bear it
As answering to the weight. Would I might never
O'ertake pursued success, but I do feel,
By the rebound of yours, a grief that smites
My very heart at root.
Know you what Caesar means to do with me?
Flourish. Enter Caesar, Proculeius, Gallus, Maecenas and others of his train.
_Cleopatra kneels._
I pray you, rise. Rise, Egypt.
Will have it thus. My master and my lord
I must obey.
The record of what injuries you did us,
Though written in our flesh, we shall remember
As things but done by chance.
I cannot project mine own cause so well
To make it clear, but do confess I have
Been laden with like frailties which before
Have often shamed our sex.
We will extenuate rather than enforce.
If you apply yourself to our intents,
Which towards you are most gentle, you shall find
A benefit in this change; but if you seek
To lay on me a cruelty by taking
Antony's course, you shall bereave yourself
Of my good purposes, and put your children
To that destruction which I'll guard them from
If thereon you rely. I'll take my leave.
I am possessed of. 'Tis exactly valued,
Not petty things admitted. Where's Seleucus?
Enter Seleucus.
On his peril, that I have reserved
To myself nothing. Speak the truth, Seleucus.
Than to my peril speak that which is not.
Your wisdom in the deed.
That thou vouchsafing here to visit me,
Doing the honour of thy lordliness
To one so meek, that mine own servant should
Parcel the sum of my disgraces by
Addition of his envy! Say, good Caesar,
That I some lady trifles have reserved,
Immoment toys, things of such dignity
As we greet modern friends withal; and say
Some nobler token I have kept apart
For Livia and Octavia, to induce
Their mediation, must I be unfolded
With one that I have bred? The gods! It smites me
Beneath the fall I have.
[_To Seleucus_.] Prithee go hence,
Or I shall show the cinders of my spirits
Through th' ashes of my chance. Wert thou a man,
Thou wouldst have mercy on me.
_Exit Seleucus._
For things that others do; and when we fall,
We answer others' merits in our name,
Are therefore to be pitied.
Not what you have reserved nor what acknowledged
Put we i' th' roll of conquest. Still be't yours;
Bestow it at your pleasure, and believe
Caesar's no merchant to make prize with you
Of things that merchants sold. Therefore be cheered;
Make not your thoughts your prisons. No, dear queen;
For we intend so to dispose you as
Yourself shall give us counsel. Feed and sleep.
Our care and pity is so much on you
That we remain your friend; and so, adieu.
_Flourish. Exeunt Caesar and his train._
_Whispers to Charmian._
And we are for the dark.
I have spoke already, and it is provided.
Go put it to the haste.
Enter Dolabella.
_Exit._
Which my love makes religion to obey,
I tell you this: Caesar through Syria
Intends his journey, and within three days
You with your children will he send before.
Make your best use of this. I have performed
Your pleasure and my promise.
I shall remain your debtor.
Adieu, good queen. I must attend on Caesar.
_Exit Dolabella._
Now, Iras, what think'st thou?
Thou an Egyptian puppet shall be shown
In Rome as well as I. Mechanic slaves
With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers shall
Uplift us to the view. In their thick breaths,
Rank of gross diet, shall we be enclouded,
And forced to drink their vapour.
Will catch at us like strumpets, and scald rhymers
Ballad us out o' tune. The quick comedians
Extemporally will stage us and present
Our Alexandrian revels; Antony
Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see
Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness
I' th' posture of a whore.
Are stronger than mine eyes.
To fool their preparation and to conquer
Their most absurd intents.
Enter Charmian.
Show me, my women, like a queen. Go fetch
My best attires. I am again for Cydnus
To meet Mark Antony. Sirrah, Iras, go.
Now, noble Charmian, we'll dispatch indeed,
And when thou hast done this chare, I'll give thee leave
To play till doomsday. Bring our crown and all.
_Exit Iras. A noise within._
Wherefore's this noise?
Enter a Guardsman.
That will not be denied your highness' presence.
He brings you figs.
_Exit Guardsman._
What poor an instrument
May do a noble deed! He brings me liberty.
My resolution's placed, and I have nothing
Of woman in me. Now from head to foot
I am marble-constant. Now the fleeting moon
No planet is of mine.
Enter Guardsman and Clown with a basket.
_Exit Guardsman._
Hast thou the pretty worm of Nilus there That kills and pains not?
_Sets down the basket._
_Exit._
Enter Iras with a robe, crown, &c.
Immortal longings in me. Now no more
The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip.
Yare, yare, good Iras; quick. Methinks I hear
Antony call. I see him rouse himself
To praise my noble act. I hear him mock
The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men
To excuse their after wrath. Husband, I come!
Now to that name my courage prove my title!
I am fire and air; my other elements
I give to baser life.—So, have you done?
Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips.
Farewell, kind Charmian. Iras, long farewell.
_Kisses them. Iras falls and dies._
Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall?
If thou and nature can so gently part,
The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch,
Which hurts and is desired. Dost thou lie still?
If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world
It is not worth leave-taking.
The gods themselves do weep!
If she first meet the curled Antony,
He'll make demand of her, and spend that kiss
Which is my heaven to have.—Come, thou mortal wretch,
_To an asp, which she applies to her breast._
With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate
Of life at once untie. Poor venomous fool,
Be angry and dispatch. O couldst thou speak,
That I might hear thee call great Caesar ass
Unpolicied!
Dost thou not see my baby at my breast
That sucks the nurse asleep?
O Antony!—Nay, I will take thee too.
_Applying another asp to her arm._
What should I stay—
_Dies._
Now boast thee, Death, in thy possession lies
A lass unparalleled. Downy windows, close,
And golden Phœbus never be beheld
Of eyes again so royal! Your crown's awry;
I'll mend it and then play.
Enter the Guard rustling in.
_Applies an asp._
O, come apace, dispatch! I partly feel thee.
Descended of so many royal kings.
Ah, soldier!
_Charmian dies._
Enter Dolabella.
Touch their effects in this. Thyself art coming
To see performed the dreaded act which thou
So sought'st to hinder.
Enter Caesar and all his train, marching.
That you did fear is done.
She levelled at our purposes and, being royal,
Took her own way. The manner of their deaths?
I do not see them bleed.
This was his basket.
This Charmian lived but now; she stood and spake.
I found her trimming up the diadem
On her dead mistress; tremblingly she stood,
And on the sudden dropped.
If they had swallowed poison 'twould appear
By external swelling; but she looks like sleep,
As she would catch another Antony
In her strong toil of grace.
There is a vent of blood, and something blown.
The like is on her arm.
Have slime on them, such as th' aspic leaves
On the caves of Nile.
That so she died, for her physician tells me
She hath pursued conclusions infinite
Of easy ways to die. Take up her bed,
And bear her women from the monument.
She shall be buried by her Antony.
No grave on the earth shall clip in it
A pair so famous. High events as these
Strike those that make them; and their story is
No less in pity than his glory which
Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall
In solemn show attend this funeral,
And then to Rome. Come, Dolabella, see
High order in this great solemnity.
_Exeunt omnes._

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