SCENE I.-ALEXANDRIA. A ROOM IN
CLEOPATRA'S PALACE.

Enter Demetrius and Philo.

Phi. Nay, but this dotage of our general's,
O'erflows the measure: Those his goodly eyes,
That o'er the files and musters of the war
Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now
turn,

The office and devotion of their view
Upon a tawny front: his captain's heart,
Which in the scuffles of great fights had burst
The buckles on his breast, reneges1 all temper;
And is become the bellows and the fan,
To cool a gipsy's lust. Look, where they come!
Flourish. Enter Antony and Cleopatra, with

their Trains; Eunuchs fanning her. Take but good note, and you shall see in hin The triple pillar of the world transform'd Into a wanton's fool: behold and see.

Cleo. If it be love indeed; tell me how much. Ant. There's beggary in the love that can be

reckon'd.

Cleo. I'll set a bourn 2 how far to be belov'd. Ant. Then must thou needs find out new heaven, new earth.

Enter an Attendant, Att. News, my good lord, from Rome. Ant. Grates me:-The sum+? Cleo. Nay, hear them, Antony.

Fulvia, perchance, is angry; Or, who knows
If the scarce-bearded Cæsar 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.

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 admir'd!
No messenger; but thine and all alone,
To-night, we'll wander through the streets, and
The qualities of people. Come, my queen; [note
Last night you did desire it:-Speak not to us.
[Exeunt Ant. and Cleo, with their Train.
Dem. Is Cæsar 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 am full sorry,
That he approves the common liar, who
Thus speaks of him at Rome: But I will hope
Of better deeds to-morrow. Rest you happy!
[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-ANOTHER ROOM.
Enter Charmian, Iras, Alexas, and a
Soothsayer.

Char. Lord Alexas, sweet Alexas, most any thing Alexas, almost most absolute Alexas, where's the soothsayer that you praised so to the queen? O, that I knew this husband, which, you say, must change his horns with garlands! Alex. Soothsayer. Sooth. Your will?

Char. Is this the man?-Is't you, sir, that know things?

Sooth. In nature's infinite book of secrecy, A little I can read. Alex.

Show him Enter Enobarbus.

your

hand.

Eno. Bring in the banquet quickly: wine Cleopatra's health to drink.

[enough,

Char. Good sir, give me good fortune.
Sooth. I make not, but foresee.
Char. Pray, then, foresee me one.
Sooth. You shall be yet far fairer than you are.
Char. He means, in flesh.

Iras. No, you shall paint when you are old.
Char. Wrinkles forbid !

Alex. Vex not his prescience; be attentive. Char. Hush!

So. You shall be more beloving, than beloved. Cha. I had rather heat my liver with drinking. Alex. Nay, hear him.

Char. Good now, some excellent fortune! Let me be married to three kings in a forenoon, and widow them all: let me have a child at fifty, to whom Herod of Jewry may do homage: find me to marry me with Octavius Cæsar, and companion me with my mistress.

S. You shall outlive the lady whom you serve. C. O excellent! I love long life better than figs. So. You have seen and proved a fairer former Than that which is to approach. [fortune Char. Then, 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.

won 1 (Fame.)

Char. Out, fool; I forgive thee for a witch. Alex. We'll know all our fortunes. Eno. Mine, and most of our fortunes, to-night, shall be drunk to bed.

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

Char. Even as the o'erflowing Nilus presageth famine.

Iras. Go, you wild fellow, 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 particulars. Sooth. I have said.

Ir. 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.

Char. Our worser thoughts heavens mend! Alexas,-come, his fortune, his fortune.-O, let him marry, sweet Isis, I beseech thee! And let her die, and give him a worse! and let worse follow worse, till the worst of all follow him laughing to his grave. Good Isis, hear me this prayer, though thou deny me a matter of more weight; good Isis, I beseech thee!

of the people! Dear Isis, keep decorum, and Iras. Amen. Dear goddess, hear that prayer fortune him accordingly!

Char. Amen.

Cl. He was disposed to mirth; but on a sudden A Roman thought hath struck him. -Enobarbus. Eno. Madam.

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

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

Enter Antony, with a Messenger and Attendants. Cleo. We will not look upon him: Go with us. [Exeunt Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Alexas, Iras, Charmian, Soothsayer, and Attendants. Mess. Fulvia thy wife first came into the field. Ant. Against my brother Lucius?

Mess. Ay:

But soon that war had end, and the time's state
Made friends of them, jointing their force 'gainst
Cæsar;

Whose better issue in the war, from Italy,
Upon the first encounter, drave them.
Ant.
Well,

What worst?

Mess. The nature of bad news infects the teller A. When it concerns the fool, or coward.-On: 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 flatter'❜d.

Labienus

Mess. (This is stiff news) hath, with his Parthian force,

Extended1 Asia from Euphrates;

His conquering banner shook, from Syria To Lydia, and to Ionia;

Whilst

Ant. Antony, thou wouldst say--
Mess.

O, my lord! Ant. Speak to me home, mince not the general tongue;

Name Cleopatra as she's called in Rome;
Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase: and taunt my faults
With such full license, as both truth and malice
Have power to utter. O, then we bring forth
weeds,

When our quick winds lie still2; and our ills3 told us,

Is as our earing.4 Fare thee well a while. Mess. At your noble pleasure. [Exit. Ant. From Sicyon how the news? Speak there.

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

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.

Eno. What's your pleasure, sir?
Ant. I must with haste from hence.

Eno. Why then, we kill all our women: We see how mortal an unkindness is to them; if they suffer our departure, death's the word. Ant. I must be gone.

Eno. Under compelling occasion, let women

Eno. Why, sir, give the gods a thankful sacrifice. 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 others 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; and, indeed, the tears live in an onion, that should water this sorrow.

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

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 officers
Have notice what we propose. I shall break
The cause of our expedience1 to the queen,
And get her love 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 Cæsar, 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 ap
For the main soldier: whose quality, going on,
The sides o' the 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.
Eno. I shall do't.

SCENE III.

[Exeunt.

thing; though, between them and a great cause, they should be esteemed nothing. Cleopatra, catching but the least noise of this, dies instantly; I have seen her die twenty times upon far poorer moment.

Ant. She is cunning past man's thought. Eno. Alack, sir, no; her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love: We cannot call her winds and waters, sighs and tears; they are greater storms and tempests than almanacks can report: this cannot be cun1 Over-run. 2 When we are untroubled. 3 Faults. 4 is what earing (ploughing) is to the soil.

Cleo. Where is he? Char.

I did not see him since. Cleo. See where he is, who's with him, what he does:

I did not send you2:-If you find him sad,
Say, I am dancing; if in mirth, report
That I am sudden sick: Quick, and return.
[Exit Alexas.
Char. Madam, methinks, if you did love him
dearly,

You do not hold the method to enforce
The like from him.

1 Expedition. 2 Look as if I did not send you

pose.

Cleo. Help me away, dear Charmian, I shall fall; It cannot be thus long, the sides of nature Will not sustain it.

Ant.
Now, my dearest queen,-
Cleo. Pray you, stand further from me.
Ant.
What's the matter?
Cleo. I know, by that same eye, there's some
good news.

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 upon you; hers you are.
Ant. The gods best know,-
Cleo.

O, never was there queen
So mightily betray'd! Yet, at the first,
I saw the treasons planted.

Ant.

Cleopatra,

Cleo. Why should I think you can be mine,

Most sweet queen,

C. Nay, pray you, seek no colour for your going, 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 bent1; none our parts so poor,
But was a race 2 of heaven; They are so still,
Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world,
Art turn'd the greatest liar.

Ant.
How now, lady!
Cleo. I would, I had thy inches; thou shouldst
There were a heart in Egypt.
[know,
Ant.
Hear me, queen:
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 3 of Rome:
Equality of two domestick powers [strength,
Breeds scrupulous faction: The hated, grown to
Are newlygrown to love: the condemn'd Pompey,
Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace
Into the hearts of such as have not thriv'd
Upon 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
Is Fulvia's death.
(going,
Cleo. Though age from folly could not give me
freedom,

It does from childishness :--Can Fulvia die? 1 Eyebrows. 2 Flavour. 3 Gate.

Ant. She's dead, my queen:

Look here, and, at thy sovereign leisure, read The garboils1 she awak'; at the last, best: See, when, and where she died.

Cleo. O most false love! Where be the sacred vials thou shouldst fill With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see, In Fulvia's death, how mine receiv'd shall be. Ant. Quarrel no more, but be prepar'd to know The purposes I bear; which are, or cease, As you shall give the advice: Now, by the fire, That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence, Thy soldier, servant; making peace, or war, As thou affect'st.

Cleo. Cut my lace, Charmian, come:But let it be.-I am quickly ill, and well: So Antony loves. Ant.

My precious queen, forbear; And give true evidence to his love, which stands An honourable trial.

Cleo.

So Fulvia told me.

I'll leave you, lady. Cleo. Courteous lord, one word. Sir, you and I must part,-but that's not it: Sir, you and I have lov'd,-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.

Ant. But that your royalty Holds idleness your subject, I should take you For idleness itself.

Cleo.

'Tis sweating labour, 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! upon your sword Sit laurel'd victory! and smooth success Be strew'd before your feet!

Ant. Let us go. Come: Our separation so abides, and flies, That thou, residing here, go'st yet with me, And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee. Away. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

ROME. AN APARTMENT IN CESAR'S HOUSE. Enter Octavius Cæsar, Lepidus, and Attendants.

C. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know It is not Cæsar's natural vice to hate One great competitor: From Alexandria This is the news; He fishes, drinks, and wastes The lamps of night in revel: is not more manlike 1 Commotion. 2 To me, the queen. 3 Rage

Than Cleopatra; nor the queen Ptolemy
More womanly than he: hardly gave audience, or
Vouchsaf'd to think he had partners: You shall
find there

A man, who is the abstract of all faults
That all men follow.
Lep.
I must not think, there are
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 purchas'd1; what he cannot change,
Than what he chooses.

[not

C. You are too indulgent: Let ns grant, it is
Amiss to press 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 unworthy: say, this becomes him,
(As his composure must be rare indeed,
Whom these things cannot blemish,) yet must
Antony

No way excuse his soils, when we do bear
So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd
His vacancy with his voluptuousness,
Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones,
Call on him for't: but, to confound2 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,
Fawn their experience to their present pleasure,
And so rebel to judgment.

every hour,

Most noble Cæsar, shalt thou have report
How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea;
And it appears, he is belov'd of those
That only have fear'd Cæsar: to the ports
The discontents3 repair, and men's reports
Give him much wrong'd.

Cæs.
I should have known no less:-
It hath been taught us from the primal state,
That he, which is, was wish'd, until he were;
And the ebb'd man, ne'er lov'd, till ne'er worth
love,
Comes dear'd by being lack'd. This common
Like a vagabond flag upon the stream,
Goes to, and back, lackeying the varying tide,
To rot itself with motion.

[body,

Did famine follow: whom thou fought'st against
Though daintily brought up, with patience more
Than savages could suffer: Thou didst drink
What 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'st; 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 lank'd not.

Lep.
It is pity of him.
Caes. Let his shames quickly
Drive him to Rome: 'Tis time we twain
Did show ourselves i' the field; and, to that end,
Assemble we immediate council: Pompey
Thrives in our idleness.

ALEXANDRIA.

Doubt not, sir;

SCENE V.

[Exeunt.

A ROOM IN THE PALACE.

Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras,and Mardian.

Cleo. Charmian,

Char. Madam.

Cleo. Ha, ha!

Give me to drink mandragora.2

Char.

Why, madam?

Cleo. That I might sleep out this great gap

of time,

Char.

Cleo.

You think of him

O, 'tis treason!

Madam, I trust, not so.
O Charmian,
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 3
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 Phoebus' amorous pinches black,
Andwrinkleddeepin time? Broad-fronted Cæsar,
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.

1 Duty. 2 A sleepy potion. 3 Weapon. 4 Helmet