tates.

Cli. Now is that noble vessel full of grief, That it runs over even at his eyes.

Bru. Come hither, good Volumnius; list a word.

Vol. What says my lord?

Bru. Why, this, Volumnius:
The ghost of Cesar hath appear'd to me

Two several times by night: at Sardis, once;
And, this last night, here in Philippi' fields.
1 know, my hour is come.

Vol. Not so, my lord.

nius,

Bru. Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius. Thou see'st the world, Volumnius, how it goes; Our enemies have beat us to the pit: It is more worthy to leap in ourselves, Than tarry till they push us. Good Volum[gether; Thou know'st, that we two went to school toEven for that our love of old, 1 pray thee, Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it. Vol. That's not an office for a friend, my lord. [Alarum still. C. Fly, fly, my lord; there is no tarrying

here.

Bru. Farewell to you ;-and you;-and you,
Volumnius.-

Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep;
Farewell to thee too. Strato.-Countrymen,
My heart doth joy, that yet, in all my life,
I found no man, but he was true to me.
I shail have glory by this losing day,
More than Octavius, and Mark Antony,
By this vile conquest shall attain unto.
So, fare you well at once; for Brutus' tongue
Hath almost ended his life's history: [rest,
Night hangs upon mine eyes; my bones would
That have but labour'd to attain this hour.

[Alarum. Cry within; Fly, fly, fly.

Cli. Fly, my lord, fly.

Bru. Hence; I will follow thee. [Exeunt CLITUS, DARDANIUS, and VOLUM

NIUS.

I pr'ythee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord:
Thou art a fellow of a good respect;

Thylu's wash us some smatch of honour in it:

Bru. Farewell, good Strato.-Cesar, now be still:

I kill'd not thee with half so good a will.
[He runs on his Sword and dies.
Alarum. Retreat. Enter OCTAVIUS, ANTONY,
MESSALA, LUCILIUS, and their Ármy.
Oct. What man is that?

Mes. My master's man.-Strato, where is thy master?

Stra. Free from the bondage you are in
Messala;

The conquerors can but make a fire of him;
For Brutus only overcame himself,
And no man else hath honour by his death.

Luc. So Brutus should be found.-I thank

[all:

Stra. I held the sword, and he did run on it. Mes. Octavius, then take him to follow thee, That did the latest service to my master. Ant. This was the noblest Ronian of them All the conspirators, save only he, Did that they did in envy of great Cesar; He, only, in a general honest thought, And common good to all, made one of them. His life was gentle; and the clements So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up, And say to all the world, This was a man !

Oct. According to his virtue let us use him, With all respect and rites of burial. Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie Most like a soldier, order'd honourably.— So, call the field to rest: and let's away, To part the glories of this happy day. [Ereumz.

* Receive into my service. † Recommend.

On pain of punishment, the world to weet," We stand up peerless.

Cleo. Excellent Falsehood!

Why did we marry Fulvia, and not love her?--
I'll seem the fool I am not; Antony
Will be himself.

Ant. But stirr'd by Cleopatra.

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?

Cleo. Hear the ambassadors.
Ant. Fie, wrangling queen!

Whom every thing becomes, to chide, to laugh,
To weep; whose every passion fully strives
To make itself, in thee, fair and adinir'd!
No messenger; but thine and all alone,
To-night, 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 ANT. and CLEO. with their Train. Dem. Is Cesar with Antonius priz'd so slight?

Phi. Sir, sometimes, when he is not Antony, He comes too short of that great property Which still should go with Antony.

Dem. I'm full sorry,

Image: find me to marry me with Octavius Cesar, and companion me with my mistress. Sooth. You shall outlive the lady whom you

serve.

Char. O excellent! I love long life better than figs.

Sooth. You have seen and proved a fairer former fortune

Than that which is to approach.

Char. Then, belike, my children shall have no names: Pr'ythee, how many boys and wenches must I have?

Sooth. If every of your wishes had a womb, And fertile every wish, a million.

Char. Out, fool! I forgive thee for a witch. Alex. You think, none but your sheets are privy to your wishes.

Char. Nay, come, tell Iras hers. Alex. We'll know all our fortunes. Eno. Mine, and most of our fortunes, tonight, shall be-drunk to bed.

Iras. There's a palm presages chastity, if nothing else.

Char. Even as the overflowing Nilus presageth famine.

Iras. Go, you wild bedfellow, you cannot soothsay.

Char. Nay, if an oily palm be not a fruitful prognostication, I cannot scratch mine ear.Pr'ythee, tell her but a worky-day fortune. Sooth. Your fortunes are alike.

Iras. But how, but how? give me particu

lars.

Sooth. I have said.

Irus. Am I not an inch of fortune better than she?

Char. Well, if you were but an inch of fortune better than I, where would you choose it? Iras. Not in my husband's nose.

Alexas,-come, his fortune, his fortune.-0, Char. Our worser thoughts heavens mend! let him marry a woman that cannot go, sweet Isis,+ I beseech thee! And let her die too, and give him a worse! and let worse follow worse, till the worst of all follow him laughing to his grave, fifty-fold a cuckold! Good Isis, hear me this prayer, though thou deny me a matter of more weight; good Isis, I beseech thee!

Iras. Amen. Dear goddess, hear that prayer of the people! for, as it is a heart-breaking to see a handsome man loose-wived, so it is a deadly sorrow to behold a foul knave uncuck. olded; Therefore, dear Isis, keep decorum, and fortune him accordingly!

Char. Amen.

Alex. Lo, now! if it lay in their hands to make me a cuckold, they would make themselves whores, but they'd do't.

Eno. Hush! here comes Antony.
Char. Not he, the queen.

Enter CLEOPATRA.

Cleo. Saw you my lord?
Eno. No, lady.

Cleo. Was he not here?
Char. No, madam.

Cleo. He was dispos'd to mirth; but on the sudden

[bus,A Roman thought hath struck him.-EnobarEno. Madam.

Cleo. Seek him, and bring him hither. Where's Alexas?

Alex. Here, madam, at your service.—My lord approaches.

1 Att. The man from Sicyon.-Is there such a one?

2 Att. He stays upon your will. Ant. Let him appear,These strong Egyptian fetters I must break,

Enter another MESSENGER.

Or lose myself in dotage.-What are you?
2 Mess. Fulvia thy wife is dead.
Ant. Where died she?
2 Mess. In Sicyon :

Her length of sickness, with what else more
Importeth thee to know, this bears. [serious
[Gives a letter.
Ant. Forbear me.- [Exit MESSENGER.
There's a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire
What our contempts do often hurl from us, [it:
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 shov'd

her on.

Enter ENOBARBUS.

Eno. What's your pleasure, Sir? Ant. I must with haste from hence. We see how mortal an unkindness is to them; Eno. Why, then, we kill all our women: if they suffer our departure, death's the word. Ant. I must be gone.

Eno. Under a compelling occasion, let women die: It were pity to cast them away for nothing; though, between them and a great patra, catching but the least noise of this, dies cause, they should be esteemed nothing. Cleoinstantly; I have seen her die twenty times upon far poorer moment: I do think, there is mettle in death, which commits some loving act upon her, she hath such a celerity in dying.

Ant. She is cunning past man's thought. Eno. Alack, Sir, no; her passions are made cannot call her winds and waters, sighs and of nothing but the finest part of pure love: We tears; they are greater storms and tempests than almanacks can report: this cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a shower

of rain as well as Jove.

Ant. 'Would I had never seen her!

Eno. O, Sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece of work; which not to have been blessed withal, would have discredited your travel.

Ant. Fulvia is dead. Eno. Sir?

Ant. Fulvia is dead. Eno. Fulvia?

Ant. Dead.

sacrifice. Eno. Why, Sir, give the gods a thankful When it pleaseth their deities to take the wife of a man from him, it shows to man the tailors of the earth; comforting therein, that when old robes are worn out, there are members to make new. If there were no more women but Fulvia, then had you indeed a cut, and the case to be lamented: this grief is crowned with consolation; your old smock the tears live in an onion, that should water brings forth a new petticoat: and, indeed,

this sorrow.

Ant. The business she hath broached in the Cannot endure my absence. [state,

Eno. And the business you have broached here cannot be without you; especially that of Cleopatra's, which wholly depends on your abode.

Ant. No more light answers. Let our offi

cers

Have notice what we purpose. I shall break
The cause of our expedience to the queen,
And get her lover 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 Cesar, and commands
The empire of the sea: our slippery people
(Whose love is never link'd to the deserver,
Till his deserts are past,) begin to throw
Pompey the great, and all his dignities,
Upon 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'the world may danger: Much is

[life,

breeding, Which, like the courser's hair, hath yet but And not a serpent's poison. Say, our pleasure,