Page images




Dar. To kill him, Clitus: Look, he medi- | Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face,


Cli. Now is that noble vessel full of grief,

That it runs over even at his eyes.

Bru. Come hither, good Volumnius; list a word.

Vol. What says my lord?

Bru. Why, this, Volumnius:
The ghost of Cesar hath appear'd to me
Two several times by night: at Sardis, once;
And, this last night, here in Philippi' fields.
I know, my hour is come.

Vol. Not so, my lord.

Bru. Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius. Thou see'st the world, Volumnius, how it goes; Our enemies have beat us to the pit: It is more worthy to leap in ourselves, Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius, Thou know'st, that we two went to school to[gether; Even for that our love of old, I pray thee, Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it. Vol. That's not an office for a friend, my lord. Cli. Fly, fly, my lord; there is no tarrying [Alarum still. here.

Bru. Farewell to you;-and you;—and you,

Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep;
Farewell to thee too, Strato.-Countrymen,,
My heart doth joy, that yet, in all my life,
I found no man, but he was true to me.
I shall have glory by this losing day,
More than Octavius, and Mark Antony,
By this vile conquest shall attain unto.
So, fare you well at once; for Brutus' tongue
Hath almost ended his life's history:
Night hangs upon mine eyes; my bones would
That have but labour'd to attain this hour.
[Alarum. Cry within; Fly, fly, fly.

Cli. Fly, my lord, fly. Bru. Hence; I will follow thee. [Exeunt CLITUS, DARDANIUS, and VOLUM


I pr'ythee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord:
Thou art a fellow of a good respect;

Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it:

While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato? Stra. Give me your hand first: Fare you well, my lord.

Bru. Farewell, good Strato.-Cesar, now be

I kill'd not thee with half so good a will.
[He runs on his Sword and dies.
Alarum. Retreat. Enter OCTAVIUS, ANTONY,
MESSALA, LUCILIUS, and their Army.

Oct. What man is that?

Mes. My master's man.-Strato, where is thy master?

Stra. Free from the bondage you are in,

For Brutus only overcame himself,
The conquerors can but make a fire of him;
And no man else hath honour by his death.

Luc. So Brutus should be found.-I thank

thee, Brutus,

That thou hast prov'd Lucilius' saying true.
Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me?
Oct. All that serv'd Brutus, I will entertain
Stru. Ay, if Messala will prefert me to you.
Oct. Do so, Messala.

Mes. How died my master, Strato?

Stra. I held the sword, and he did run on it. Mes. Octavius, then take him to follow thee, That did the latest service to my master.


Ant. This was the noblest Roman of them
All the conspirators, save only he,
Did that they did in envy of great Cesar;
And common good to all, made one of them.
He, only, in a general honest thought,
So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up,
His life was gentle; and the elements
And say to all the world, This was a man!

Oct. According to his virtue let us use him,
With all respect and rites of burial.
Most like a soldier, order'd honourably.-
Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie,
So, call the field to rest: and let's away,
To part the glories of this happy day. [Ereunt.

* Receive into my service. + Recommend.

[blocks in formation]

SCENE I.-Alexandria.—A Room in CLEOPATRA'S Palace.


Phil. 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 hath burst
The buckles on his breast, reneges all tem-

And is become the bellows, and the fan,
To cool a gypsy's lust. Look where they

Flourish. Enter ANTONY and CLEOPATRA, with
their Trains; EUNUCHS fanning her.
Take but good note, and you shall see in him
The triple pillar of the world transform'd
Into a strumpet'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 bournt how far to be belov'd. Ant. Then must thou needs find out new heaven, new earth.

[blocks in formation]


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 Cesar have not sent His powerful mandate to you, Do this, or this; Take int that kingdom, and enfranchise that; Perform't, or else we damn thee.

Ant. How, my love!

Cleo. Perchance,-nay, and most like, You must not stay here longer, your dismission Is come from Cesar; therefore hear it, Antony.

Where's Fulvia's process! Cesar's, I would say?-Both?

Call in the messengers.-As I am Egypt's queen,

Thou blushest, Antony; and that blood of thine Is Cesar's homager; else so thy cheek pays [shame, When shrill-tongu'd Fulvia scolds.-The messengers.

Ant. Let Rome in Tyber melt! and the wide


Of the rang'd empire fall! Here is my space; Kingdoms are clay: our dungy earth alike Feeds beast as man: the nobleness of life Is, to do thus; when such a mutual pair, [Embracing. And such a twain can do't, in which, I bind * Offends. + Subdue, conquer. ↑ Summons,

On pain of punishment, the world to weet,*|mage: find me to marry me with Octavius CeWe stand up peerless.

Cleo. Excellent Falsehood!

Why did we marry Fulvia, and not love her?-
I'll seem the fool I am not; Antony
Will be himself.

Ant. But stirr'd by Cleopatra.-
Now, for the love of Love, and her soft hours,
Let's not confound the time with conference

There's not a minute of our lives should stretch 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 adinir'd!
No messenger; but thine and all alone,
To-night, we'll wander through the streets,
and note

The qualities of people. Come, my queen;
Last night you did desire it :-Speak not to us.
[Exeunt ANT. and CLEO. with their Train.
Dem. Is Cesar with Antonius priz'd so


Phi. Sir, sometimes, when he is not Antony, He comes too short of that great property Which still should go with Antony.

Dem. I'm 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!


[blocks in formation]

sar, and companion me with my mistress. Sooth. You shall outlive the lady whom you


Char. O excellent! I love long life better than figs.

Sooth. You have seen and proved a fairer former fortune

Than that which is to approach.

Char. Then, belike, my children shall have no names: 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.

Char. Out, fool! I forgive thee for a witch. Alex. You think, none but your sheets are privy to your wishes.

Char. Nay, come, tell Iras hers.

Alex. We'll know all our fortunes.

Eno. Mine, and most of our fortunes, tonight, shall be-drunk to bed.

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

Char. Even as the overflowing Nilus presageth famine.

Iras. Go, you wild bedfellow, 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 particu


Sooth. I have said.

Iras. 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.-0, let him marry a woman that cannot go, sweet Isis, I beseech thee! And let her die too, and give him a worse! and let worse follow worse, till the worst of all follow him laughing to his grave, fifty-fold a cuckold! Good Isis, hear of more weight; good Isis, I beseech thee! me this prayer, though thou deny me a matter

Iras. Amen. Dear goddess, hear that prayer of the people! for, as it is a heart-breaking to see a handsome man loose-wived, so it is a deadly sorrow to behold a foul knave uncuckolded; Therefore, dear Isis, keep decorum, and fortune him accordingly!

Char. Amen.

Alex. Lo, now! if it lay in their hands to make me a cuckold, they would make themselves whores, but they'd do't.

Eno. Hush! here comes Antony.
Char. Not he, the queen.


Cleo. Saw you my lord?
Eno. No, lady.

Cleo. Was he not here?
Char. No, madam.

Cleo. He was dispos'd to mirth; but on the sudden

[bus,A Roman thought hath struck him.-EnobarEno. Madam.

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

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

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

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?
2 Mess. In Sicyon :

Her length of sickness, with what else more
Importeth thee to know, this bears. [serious
[Gives a letter.
Ant. Forbear me.- [Exit MESSENGER.
There's a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire
What our contempts do often hurl from us, [it:
We wish it ours again; the present pleasure,
By revolution lowering, does become
The opposite of itself: she's good, being gone;
The hand could pluck her back, that shov'd

her on.

[blocks in formation]


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 a compelling occasion, let women die: It were pity to cast them away for nothing; though, between them and a great patra, catching but the least noise of this, dies cause, they should be esteemed nothing. Cleoinstantly; I have seen her die twenty times upon far poorer moment: I do think, there is mettle in death, which commits some loving act upon her, she hath such a celerity in dying.

Ant. She is cunning past man's thought.

Eno. Alack, Sir, no; her passions are made cannot call her winds and waters, sighs and of nothing but the finest part of pure love: We tears; they are greater storms and tempests than almanacks can report: this cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a shower of rain as well as Jove.

Ant. 'Would I had never seen her!

Eno. O, Sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece of work; which not to have been blessed withal, would have discredited your travel.

Ant. Fulvia is dead.
Eno. Sir?

Ant. Fulvia is dead.
Eno. Fulvia?
Ant. Dead.

sacrifice. Eno. Why, Sir, give the gods a thankful 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

members 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; your old smock the tears live in an onion, that should water brings forth a new petticoat: and, indeed,

this sorrow.

Ant. The business she hath broached in the 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 offi


Have notice what we purpose. I shall break
The cause of our expedience to the queen,
And get her lovet 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 Cesar, 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 up
For the main soldier: whose quality, going on,
The sides o'the world may danger: Much is

[life, Which, like the courser's hair, hatb yet but And not a serpent's poison. Say, our pleasure,

[blocks in formation]

To such whose place is under us, requires
Our quick remove from hence.

Eno. I shall do't.




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 you ;*-If you find him sad,
Say, I am dancing; if in mirth, report
That I am sudden sick: Quick, and return.
Char. Madam, methinks, if you did love
him dearly,

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

Cleo. What should I do, I do not?

Char. In each thing give him way, cross him
in nothing.

Cleo. Thou teachest like a fool the way to
lose him.

Char. Tempt him not so too far: I wish for-

In time we hate that which we often fear.

But here comes Antony.

Cleo. I am sick, and sullen.

Ant. I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose,

Cleo. Help me away, dear Charmian, I shall

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


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,

and true,

Ant. Hear me, queen:

The strong necessity of time commands
Our services a while; 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* of Rome:
Equality of two domestic powers
Breeds scrupulous faction: The hated, grown
Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace
to strength,
Are newly grown to love: the condemn'd
Into the hearts of such as have not thriv'd
Upon the present state, whose numbers threat-
And quietness, grown sick of rest, would
By any desperate change: My more parti-



And that which most with you should safer
my going,
Is Fulvia's death.

Cleo. Though age from folly could not give
me freedom,

It does from childishness:-Can Fulvia die?
Ant. She's dead, my queen:
The garboils she awak'd; at the last, best:
Look here, and, at thy sovereign leisure, read
See, when, and where she died.

Cleo. O most false love!

Where be the sacred vials thou should'st 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

The purposes I bear; which are, or cease
As you shall give the advice: Now, by the

That quickens Nilus' slime,|| I go from hence,
Thy soldier, servant; making peace, or war,
As thou affect'st.

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

And give true evidence to his love, which
Ant. My precious queen, forbear;

An honourable trial.

Cleo. So Fulvia told me.


I pr'ythee turn aside, and weep for her;
Then bid adieu to me, and say the tears
Belong to Egypt:¶ Good now, play one scene
Of excellent dissembling; and let it look
Like perfect honour.

Ant. You'll heat my blood; no more,

Cleo. You can do better yet; but this is meetly.

Ant. Now, by my sword,

Though you in swearing shake the thronged
Who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous mad-But


To be entangled with those mouth-made vows,
Which break themselves in swearing!

Ant. Most sweet queen,

Cleo. Nay, pray you, seek no colour for your

But bid farewell, and go: when you sued stay.
Then was the time for words: No going

then ;


Eternity was in our lips, and eyes;
Bliss in our brows' bent; none our parts so
But was a racet of heaven: They are so still,
Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world,
Art turn'd the greatest liar.

Ant. How now, lady!

this is not the best: Look, pr'ythee, Cleo. And target,-Still he mends; Charmian,

How this Herculean Roman does become
The carriage of his chafe.**

Ant. I'll leave you, lady.

Sir, you and I must part, but that's not it:
Cleo. Courteous lord, one word.
Sir, you and I have lov'd, but there's not it;
That you know well: Something it is I would,-
And I am all forgotten.
O, my obliviontt is a very Antony,

Ant. But that your royalty

Holds idleness your subject, I should take you
For idleness itself.

Cleo. "Tis sweating labour,

Cleo. I would, I had thy inches; thou To bear such idleness so near the heart

[blocks in formation]
« PreviousContinue »