Ant. To let a fellow that will take rewards,
And say, God quit you! be familiar with
My playfellow, your hand; this kingly seal,

Enter Attendants, with Thyreus.

And plighter of high hearts!—O, is he whipp'd? l Atten. Soundly, my lord.

Ant. Cry'd he? and begg'd he pardon? l Atten. He did ask favour.

Ant. If that thy father live, let him repent Thou wast not made his daughter; and be thou sorry To follow Cæsar in his triumph, since

Thou hast been whipp'd for following him: henceforth,

The white hand of a lady fever thee,

Shake thou to look on't. Get thee back to Cæsar,
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 the 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.

Cleo. Have you done yet?

Ant. Alack, our terrene moon

Is now eclips'd; and it portends alone

The fall of Antony!

Cleo. I must stay his time.

[Exit THYREUS.

[To her Women.

Ant. To flatter Cæsar, would you mingle eyes

With one that ties his points?

Cleo. Not know me yet?

Ant- Cold-hearted toward me?

Cleo. Ah, dear, if I be so,

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 Cæsarion smite!
Till by degrees, the memory of my womb,
Together with my brave Egyptians all,
By the discandying of this pelletted storm,
Lie graveless; till the flies and gnats of Nile
Have bury'd them for prey!

Ant. I am satisfy'd.

Cæsar sits down in Alexandria; where
I will oppose his fate. Our force by land
Hath nobly held; our sever'd 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 is hope in it yet.

Cleo. That's my brave lord!

Ant. I will be treble sinew'd, hearted, breath'd,
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.

Cleo. It is my birth day:

I had thought, to have held it poor; but, since my lord

Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra.

Ant. We'll yet do well.

Cleo. Call all his noble captains to my lord.

Ant. Do so, we'll speak to them; and to-night I'll force

The wine peep through their scars.—Come on, my

queen;

There's sap in't yet. The next time I do fight,
I'll make death love me; for I will contend
Even with his pestilent scythe.

[Exeunt Antony, Cleopatra, Charmian,
and Attendants.

Enob. Now he'll outstare the lightning. To be furious,

Is, to be frighted out of fear: 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.

Enter Antony and Cleopatra; Charmian, Iras, and Others, attending.

Ant. Eros! mine armour, Eros!

Cleo. Sleep a little.

Ant. No, my chuck.—Eros, come; mine armour, Eros!

Enter Eros, with Armour.

Come, my good fellow, put thine iron on:—
If fortune be not ours to-day, it is
Because we brave her.—Come.

Cleo. Nay, I'll help too.

[EROS arms him.

Ant. What's this for? Ah, let be, let be! thou art The armourer of my heart: False, false; this, this. Cleo. Sooth, la, I'll help : Thus it must be.

Ant. Well, well;

We shall thrive now. —Seest thou, my good fellow? Go, put on thy defences.

Eros. Briefly, sir.

Cleo. Is not this buckled well?

Ant. O, rarely, rarely:

He that unbuckles this, till we do please
To doff't for our repose, shall hear a storm.—
Thou fumblest, Eros; and my queen's a 'squire
More tight at this, than thou: Despatch.—O love,
That thou couldst see my wars to-day, and knew'st
The royal occupation! thou shouldst see

Enter an Officer, armed.

A workman in't.—Good morrow to thee; welcome ; Thou look'st like him that knows a warlike charge: To business that we love, we rise betime,

And go to't with delight.

1 Off. A thousand, sir.

Early though't be, have on their rivetted trim,

[Shouts within—Trumpets.

And at the port expect you.

Enter Other Officers, Soldiers, &c.

2 Off. The morn is fair.—Good morrow, general. All. Good morrow, general.

Ant. 'Tis well blown, lads.

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: rebukable,

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 Eros, Antony, Officers, and Sol

Diers.

Char. Please you, retire into your chamber.
Cleo. Lead me.

He goes forth gallantly. That he and Cæsar might
Determine this great war in single fight!
Then, Antony—But now Well, on.

[Exeunt.

Scene II.

Under the Walls of Alexandria.

Antony's Camp.—Trumpets.

Enter Antony and Eros; Diomede meeting them.

Diom. The gods make this a happy day to Antony! Ant. 'Would thou, and those thy scars, had once prevail'd

To make me fight at land!

Diom. Hadst thou done so,

The kings, that have revolted, and the soldier,
That has this morning left thee, would have still
Foliow'd thy heels.

Ant. Who's gone this morning?

Diom. Who?

One ever near thee: Call for Enobarbus,