That it might go on wheels!

Eno. Drink thou; increase the reels.

Men. Come.

Pom. This is not yet an Alexandrian feast. Ant. It ripens towards it.-Strike the vessels,'ho! Here is to Cæsar:

Cæs.

I could well forbear it.
It's monstrous labour, when I wash my brain,
And it grows fouler.

Ant.

Be a child o'the time. Cæs. Possess it, I'll make answer: but I had rather fast

From all, four days, than drink so much in one. Eno. Ha, my brave emperor ! [To Antony. Shall we dance now the Egyptian Bacchanals, And celebrate our drink?

Pom.

Let's ha't, good soldier. Ant. Come, let us all take hands.

Till that the conquering wine hath steep'd our sense In soft and delicate Lethe.

Eno.

All take hands

Make battery to our ears with the loud music:-
The while, I'll place you: Then the boy shall sing;
The holding every man shall bear, as loud
As his strong sides can volley.

[Music plays. Enobarbus places them hand
in hand.

SONG.

Come, thou monarch of the vine,
Plumpy Bacchus, with pink eyne A
In thy vats our cares be drown'd;

With thy grapes our hairs be crown'd;
Cup us, till the world go round;
Cup us, till the world go round!

Cas. What would you more?-Pompey, good night. Good brother,

Let me request you off: our graver business

(1) Kettle-drums.

(2) Understand.

(3) Burden, chorus.

(4) Red eyes.

Frowns at this levity.-Gentle lords, let's part; You see, we have burnt our cheeks: strong Enobarbe

Is weaker than the wine; and mine own tongue Splits what it speaks; the wild disguise hath almost Antic'd us all. What needs more words? Good night.

Good Antony, your hand.

Pom.

I'll try you o'the shore.

Ant. And shall, sir: give's your hand.
Pom.

O, Antony, You have my father's house,-But what? we are

friends:

Come, down into the boat.

Eno.

Take heed you fall not.-Exeunt Pom. Cæs. Ant. and Attendants.

Menas, I'll not on shore.

Men.

No, to my cabin.These drums!-these trumpets, flutes! what!Let Neptune hear we bid a loud farewell

To these great fellows: Sound, and be hang'd, sound out.

[A flourish of trumpets, with drums.

Eno. Ho, says 'a !-There's my cap.

Men.

Come.

Ho-noble captain! [Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE L-A plain in Syria. Enter Ventidius, as after conquest, with Silius, and other Romans, Officers, and Soldiers; the dead body of Pacorus borne before him.

Ven. Now, darting Parthia, art thou struck; and

now

Pleas'd fortune does of Marcus Crassus' death

Make me revenger.-Bear the king's son's body

Before our army:-Thy Pacorus, Orodes,1
Pays this for Marcus Crassus.

Sil.

Noble Ventidius,

Whilst yet with Parthian blood thy sword is warm,
The fugitive Parthians follow; spur through Media,
Mesopotamia, and the shelters whither

The routed fly so thy grand captain Antony
Shall set thee on triumphant chariots, and
Pat garlands on thy head.

Ven.
O Silius, Silius,
I have done enough: A lower place, note well,
May make too great an act: For learn this, Silius;
Better leave undone, than by our deed acquire
Too high a fame, when him we serve's away.
Cæsar, and Antony, have ever won

More in their officer, than person: Sossius,
One of my place in Syria, his lieutenant,
For quick accumulation of renown,

Which he achiev'd by the minute, lost his favour.
Who does i'the wars more than his captain can,
Becomes his captain's captain: and ambition,
The soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss,
Than gain, which darkens him.

I could do more to do Antonius good,

But 'twould offend him; and in his offence
Should my performance perish.

Sil.

Thou hast, Ventidius,

That without which a soldier, and his sword, Grants scarce distinction. Thou wilt write to An

tony?

Ven. I'll humbly signify what in his name, That magical word of war, we have effected; How, with his banners, and his well-paid ranks, The ne'er-yet-beaten horse of Parthia We have jaded out o'the field. Sil.

Where is he now? Ven. He purposeth to Athens: whither with

what haste

(1) Pacorus was the son of Orodes, king of Parthin.

The weight we must convey with us will permit, We shall appear before him.-On, there; pass along. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Rome, An ante-chamber in Cæsar's house. Enter Agrippa, and Enobarbus, meeting.

Agr. What, are the brothers parted?

Eno. They have despatch'd with Pompey, he is gone;

The other three are sealing. Octavia weeps
To part from Rome: Cæsar is sad; and Lepidus,
Since Pompey's feast, as Menas says, is troubled
With the green sickness.

Agr.

'Tis a noble Lepidus. Eno. A very fine one: O, how he loves Cæsar! Agr. Nay, but how dearly he adores Mark An

tony!

Ena. Cæsar? Why, he's the Jupiter of men.
Agr. What's Antony? The god of Jupiter.
Eno. Spake you of Cæsar? How? the nonpareil !
Agr. O Antony! O thou Arabian bird!!'

Eno. Would you praise Cæsar, say,—Cæsar;— go no further.

Agr. Indeed, he ply'd them both with excellent praises.

Eno. But he loves Cæsar best;-Yet he loves

Antony:

Ho! hearts, tongues, figures, scribes, bards, poets,

cannot

Think, speak, cast, write, sing, number, ho, his love To Antony. But as for Cæsar,

Kneel down, kneel down, and wonder.

Agr.

Eno. They are his shards,2 and he their beetle.

So,

Both he loves.

[Trumpets!

This is to horse-Adieu, noble Agrippa.
Agr. Good fortune, worthy soldier; and farewell.

(1) The phoenix.

(2) Wings.

Enter Cæsar, Antony, Lepidus, and Octavia.

Ant. No further, sir.

Cæs. You take from me a great part of myself; Use me well in it.-Sister, prove such a wife As my thoughts make thee, and as my furthest band! Shall pass on thy approof.-Most noble Antony, Let not the piece of virtue,2 which is set Betwixt us, as the cement of our love, To keep it builded, be the ram, to batter The fortress of it: for better might we

Have loved without this mean, if on both parts This be not cherish'd.

Ant.

Make me not offended

I have said.

You shall not find, Though you be therein curious,3 the least cause For what you seem to fear: So, the gods keep you, And make the hearts of Romans serve your ends! We will here part.

Cæs. Farewell, my dearest sister, fare thee well; The elements be kind to thee, and make Thy spirits all of comfort! fare thee well. Octa. My noble brother!—

Ant. The April's in her eyes: It is love's spring, And these the showers to bring it on.-Be cheerful. Octa. Sir, look well to my husband's house; and— Cæs. What,

Octavia?

Octa.

I'll tell you in your ear.

Ant. Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can Her heart inform her tongue: the swan's down

feather,

That stands upon the swell at full of tide,

And neither way inclines.

Eno. Will Cæsar weep? [Aside to Agrippa. Agr.

He has a cloud in's face.

(1) Bond. (2) Octavia. (4) Of air and water.

(3) Scrupulous.