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Antony and Cleopatra.
SCENE Alexandria in Ægypt.
Enter Demetrius and Philo.
AY, but this Dotage of our General
That o'er the Files and Mufters of the War,
The Office and Devotion of their view
Enter Antony, and Cleopatra, her Ladies; the Train, with
Take but good Note, and you fhall fee him,
Cleo. If it be Love indeed, tell me how much?
Ant. Then muft thou needs find out new Heav'n, new
Enter a Messenger.
Mef. News, my good Lord, from Rome.
Cleo. Nay, hear them Antony.
His powerful Mandate to you. Do this, or this;
Ant. How, my Love?
Cleo. Perchance, nay, and most like,
Ant. Let Rome and Tyber melt, and the wide Arch
Cleo. Excellent Falfhood!
Why did he marry Fulvia, and not love her?
Ant. But ftirr'd by Cleopatra.
Now for the love of love, and his foft Hours,
To make it felf in thee fair and admir'd.
No Meffenger but thine, and all alone,
To Night we'll wander through the Streets, and note
Exeunt with their Train.
Dem. Is Cafar with Antonius priz'd fo flight?
Dem. I am full forry, that he approves the common Liar, who thus fpeaks of him at Rome; but I will hope of better Deeds to morrow. Reft you happy.
Enter Enobardus, Charmian, Iras, Alexas, and a
Char. L. Alexas, fweet Alexas, most any thing Alexas, almost most abfolute Aexas, where's the Soothsayer that you prais'd to th' Queen? Oh! that I knew this Huf band, which you fay, muft change his Horns with Garlands.
South. 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. Shew him your Hand.
Eno. Bring in the Banquet quickly: Wine enough, Cleopatra's Health to drink.
Char. Good Sir, give me good Fortune,
Sooth. I make not, but forefee.
Char. Pray then, forefee me one.
Sooth. You fhall be yet far fairer than you are.
Iras. No, you fhall paint when you are old.
Alex. Vex not his Patience, be attentive.
Sooth. You fhall be more beloving, then beloved.
Char. Good now, fome 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 Cafar, and Companion me with my Miftrefs.
Sooth. You fhall out-live the Lady whom you ferve.
Char. Then belike my Children fhall have no Names;
Char. Out Fool, I forgive thee for a Witch.
Char. Nay come, tell Iras hers.
Alex. We'll know all our Fortunes.
Eno. Mine, and most of our Fortunes to night, fhall be to go drunk to Bed.
Iras. There's a Palm prefages Chastity, if nothing else. Char. E'en as the o'erflowing Nylus prefageth Famine. Iras. Go you wild Bedfellow, you cannot Soothfay. Char. Nay, if an oily Palm be not a fruitful Prognoftication, 1 cannot fcratch mine Ear. Prithee tell her but a Workyday Fortune.
Sooth. Your Fortunes are alike.
Iras. But how, but how-give me particulars.
Iras. Am I not an inch of Fortune better than fhe? Char. Well, if you were but an inch of Fortune better than I; where would you chufe it?
Iras. Not in my Husband's Nofe. Char. Our worfer thoughts Heav'ns mend. Alex. Come, his Fortune, his Fortune. Oh let him Marry a Woman that cannot go, sweet fis, I beseech thee, and let her die too, and give him a worse, and let worfe follow worfe, 'till the worst of all follow him laughing to his Grave, Fifty-fold a Cuckold. Good is, hear me this Prayer, though thou deny me a matter of more Weight; good Ifis, I beseech thee.
Char. Amen, dear Goddefs, hear that Prayer of the People. For, as it is a heart-breaking to fee a handfome Man loofe-wiv'd, fo it is a deadly Sorrow, to behold a foul Knave Uncuckolded; therefore dear Ifs, keep decorum, and Fortune him accordingly.
Alex. Lo now, if it lay in their Hands to make me a Cuckold, they would make themselves Whores, but they'd
Char. No, Madam.
Cleo. He was difpos'd to Mirth,but on the fudden A Roman thought had ftruck him. Enobarbus.
Cleo. Seek him, and bring him hither; where's Alexas?
Mef. Ay, but foon that War had end, and the times ftate Made Friends of them, jointing their force 'gainst Cefar, Whose better Iflue in the War of Italy,
Upon the first encounter drave them.
Ant. Well, what worst?
Mef. The Nature of Bad News infects the Teller.