Like perfect honour. Ant. You'll heat my Blood; no more. Cleo. You can do better yet; but this is meetly. Cleo. And Target. Still he meads. But this is not the beft. Look prithee, Charmian, How this Herculean Roman does become Ant. I'll leave you, Lady. Cleo. Courteous Lord, one word: Sir, you and I muft part, but that's not it, And I am all forgotten. Ant. But that your Royalty { Holds Idlenefs your fubject, I should take you Cleo. 'Tis fweating labour, To bear fuch Idlenefs fo near the Heart And all the Gods go with you. Upon your Sword Ant. Let us go. Come: Our feparation fo abides and flies, SCENE II. [Exeunt. Rome. Enter Octavius Cæfar reading a Letter, Lepidus, and Attendants. Caf. You may fee, Lepidus, and henceforth know, It is not Cafar's natural Voice, to hate One great Competitor. From Alexandria This is the News; he fishes, drinks, and wastes The Lamps of Night in revels; Is not more Manlie VOL. VI. B Than Than Cleopatra ; nor the Queen of Ptolomy More Womanly than he. Hardly gave Audience, Lep. I must not think There are Evils enough to darken all his Goodness; Caf. You are too indulgent. Let's grant it is With Knaves that fmell of fweat; fay this becomes him; As his composure must be rare indeed, Whom these things cannot blemish, yet muft Antony So great weight in his Lightnefs. If he fill'd Enter a Messenger. Lep. Here's more News. Mef. Thy biddings have been done, and every hour, Moft noble Cafar, fhalt thou have report How 'tis abroad. Pompey is frong at Sea, And it appears, he is belov'd of those That only have fear'd Cafar: to the Ports Caf. I fhould have known no lefs, It hath been taught us from the primal State, And And the ebb'd Man, ne'er lov'd 'till ne'er worth love, Mef. Cafar, I bring thee word, Menecrates and Menas, famous Pirates, Make the Sea ferve them, which they ear and wound Lack Blood to think on't, and flesh youth to revolt, Caf. Antony, Leave thy lafcivious Vaffals. When thou once Did famine follow, whom thou fought'ft against," Yea, like the Stag, when Snow the Pasture sheets, Lep. 'Tis pity of him. Caf. Let his thames quickly Drive him to Rome, 'tis time we twain Did fhew our felves i'th'Field, and to that end Lep. To morrow, Cafar, I fhall be furnish'd to inform you rightly, B 2 Caf Caf. 'Till which encounter, it is my Bufinefs too. FarewelLep. Farewel my Lord, what you fhall know mean time Of itirs abroad, I fhall befeech, you, Sir, To let me be partaker. Caf. Doubt not, Sir, I knew it for my Bond. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Alexandria. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Mardian. Cleo. Charmian. Char. Madam. Cleo. Ha, ha-give me to drink Mandragoras. Cleo. That I might fleep out this great gap of time, My Antony is away. Char. You think of him too much. Cleo. O'tis Treafon. Char. Madam, I truft not fo. Cleo. Thou, Eupuch, Mardian? Mar. What's your Highne's pleasure ? Cleo. Not now to hear thee fing. I take no pleasure In ought an Eunuch has ; 'is well for thee, That being unfeminaried, thy freer Thoughts May not not fly forth of Egypt. Haft thou Affections? Cleo. Indeed? Mar. Not in deed, Madam, for I can do nothing But what indeed is honeft to be done: Yet have I fierce Affections, and think What Venus did with Mars. Cleo. Oh Charmian ! Where think'ft thou he is now ? Stands he, or fits he? Oh happy Ho fe to bear the weight of Antony! Do bravely, Horfe, for wot'ft thou whom thou mov'ft And Burgonet of Man. He's fpeaking now, And And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Cafar, Enter Alexas. Alex. Soveraign of Egypt, hail. Cleo. How much art thou unlike Mark Antony?. How goes it with my brave Mark Antony? Say the firm Roman to great Egypt fends Her opulent Throne, with Kingdoms. All the Eaft, Who neigh'd fo high, that what I would have spoke, Cleo. What, was he fad or merry? Alex. Like to the time o'th' Year, between the ex:reams Of hot and cold, he was not fad nor merry. Cleo. Oh well divided difpofition; note him, Note him good Charmian, 'tis the Man; but note him, That make their looks by his. He was not merry, So do's it no Man elfe. Met' thou my Pofts? Cleo, Who's born that day, When I forget to fend to Antony, B 3 Shall |