[Illustration] ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA by William Shakespeare Contents ACT I Scene I. Alexandria. A Room in Cleopatra’s palace. Scene II. Alexandria. Another Room in Cleopatra’s palace. Scene III. Alexandria. A Room in Cleopatra’s palace. Scene IV. Rome. An Apartment in Caesar’s House Scene V. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. ACT II Scene I. Messina. A Room in Pompey’s house. Scene II. Rome. A Room in the House of Lepidus. Scene III. Rome. A Room in Caesar’s House. Scene IV. Rome. A street. Scene V. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. Scene VI. Near Misenum. Scene VII. On board Pompey’s Galley, lying near Misenum. ACT III Scene I. A plain in Syria. Scene II. Rome. An Ante-chamber in Caesar’s house. Scene III. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. Scene IV. Athens. A Room in Antony’s House. Scene V. Athens. Another Room in Antony’s House. Scene VI. Rome. A Room in Caesar’s House. Scene VII. Antony’s Camp near the Promontory of Actium. Scene VIII. A plain near Actium. Scene IX. Another part of the Plain. Scene X. Another part of the Plain. Scene XI. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. Scene XII. Caesar’s camp in Egypt. Scene XIII. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. ACT IV Scene I. Caesar’s Camp at Alexandria. Scene II. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. Scene III. Alexandria. Before the Palace. Scene IV. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. Scene V. Antony’s camp near Alexandria. Scene VI. Alexandria. Caesar’s camp. Scene VII. Field of battle between the Camps. Scene VIII. Under the Walls of Alexandria. Scene IX. Caesar’s camp. Scene X. Ground between the two Camps. Scene XI. Another part of the Ground. Scene XII. Another part of the Ground. Scene XIII. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. Scene XIV. Alexandria. Another Room. Scene XV. Alexandria. A monument. ACT V Scene I. Caesar’s Camp before Alexandria. Scene II. Alexandria. A Room in the Monument. Dramatis Personæ MARK ANTONY, Triumvir OCTAVIUS CAESAR, Triumvir LEPIDUS, Triumvir SEXTUS POMPEIUS, DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS, friend to Antony VENTIDIUS, friend to Antony EROS, friend to Antony SCARUS, friend to Antony DERCETUS, friend to Antony DEMETRIUS, friend to Antony PHILO, friend to Antony MAECENAS, friend to Caesar AGRIPPA, friend to Caesar DOLABELLA, friend to Caesar PROCULEIUS, friend to Caesar THIDIAS, friend to Caesar GALLUS, friend to Caesar MENAS, friend to Pompey MENECRATES, friend to Pompey VARRIUS, friend to Pompey TAURUS, Lieutenant-General to Caesar CANIDIUS, Lieutenant-General to Antony SILIUS, an Officer in Ventidius’s army EUPHRONIUS, an Ambassador from Antony to Caesar ALEXAS, attendant on Cleopatra MARDIAN, attendant on Cleopatra SELEUCUS, attendant on Cleopatra DIOMEDES, attendant on Cleopatra A SOOTHSAYER A CLOWN CLEOPATRA, Queen of Egypt OCTAVIA, sister to Caesar and wife to Antony CHARMIAN, Attendant on Cleopatra IRAS, Attendant on Cleopatra Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, and other Attendants SCENE: Dispersed, in several parts of the Roman Empire. ACT I SCENE I. Alexandria. A Room in Cleopatra’s palace. Enter Demetrius and Philo. PHILO. 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 glowed 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 temper And is become the bellows and the fan To cool a gipsy’s lust. Flourish. Enter Antony and Cleopatra, her Ladies, the Train, with Eunuchs fanning her. Look where they come: 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. CLEOPATRA. If it be love indeed, tell me how much. ANTONY. There’s beggary in the love that can be reckoned. CLEOPATRA. I’ll set a bourn how far to be beloved. ANTONY. Then must thou needs find out new heaven, new earth. Enter a Messenger. MESSENGER. News, my good lord, from Rome. ANTONY. Grates me, the sum. CLEOPATRA. Nay, hear them, Antony. Fulvia perchance is angry; or who knows If the scarce-bearded Caesar have not sent His powerful mandate to you: “Do this or this; Take in that kingdom and enfranchise that. Perform’t, or else we damn thee.” ANTONY. How, my love? CLEOPATRA. Perchance! Nay, and most like. You must not stay here longer; your dismission Is come from Caesar; therefore hear it, Antony. Where’s Fulvia’s process?—Caesar’s I would say? Both? Call in the messengers. As I am Egypt’s queen, Thou blushest, Antony, and that blood of thine Is Caesar’s homager; else so thy cheek pays shame When shrill-tongued Fulvia scolds. The messengers! ANTONY. Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch Of the ranged 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 [_Embracing_]; when such a mutual pair And such a twain can do’t, in which I bind, On pain of punishment, the world to weet We stand up peerless. CLEOPATRA. Excellent falsehood! Why did he marry Fulvia, and not love her? I’ll seem the fool I am not. Antony Will be himself. ANTONY. But stirred by Cleopatra. Now, for the love of Love and her soft hours, Let’s not confound the time with conference harsh. There’s not a minute of our lives should stretch Without some pleasure now. What sport tonight? CLEOPATRA. Hear the ambassadors. ANTONY. Fie, wrangling queen! Whom everything becomes—to chide, to laugh, To weep; whose every passion fully strives To make itself, in thee fair and admired! No messenger but thine, and all alone Tonight 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 Antony and Cleopatra with the Train._] DEMETRIUS. Is Caesar with Antonius prized so slight? PHILO. Sir, sometimes when he is not Antony, He comes too short of that great property Which still should go with Antony. DEMETRIUS. I am full sorry That he approves the common liar who Thus speaks of him at Rome, but I will hope Of better deeds tomorrow. Rest you happy! [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. Alexandria. Another Room in Cleopatra’s palace. Enter Enobarbus, a Soothsayer, Charmian, Iras, Mardian and Alexas. CHARMIAN. Lord Alexas, sweet Alexas, most anything Alexas, almost most absolute Alexas, where’s the soothsayer that you praised so to th’ queen? O, that I knew this husband which you say must charge his horns with garlands! ALEXAS. Soothsayer! SOOTHSAYER. Your will? CHARMIAN. Is this the man? Is’t you, sir, that know things? SOOTHSAYER. In nature’s infinite book of secrecy A little I can read. ALEXAS. Show him your hand. ENOBARBUS. Bring in the banquet quickly; wine enough Cleopatra’s health to drink. CHARMIAN. Good, sir, give me good fortune. SOOTHSAYER. I make not, but foresee. CHARMIAN. Pray, then, foresee me one. SOOTHSAYER. You shall be yet far fairer than you are. CHARMIAN. He means in flesh. IRAS. No, you shall paint when you are old. CHARMIAN. Wrinkles forbid! ALEXAS. Vex not his prescience. Be attentive. CHARMIAN. Hush! SOOTHSAYER. You shall be more beloving than beloved. CHARMIAN. I had rather heat my liver with drinking. ALEXAS. Nay, hear him. CHARMIAN. Good now, some 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 Caesar, and companion me with my mistress. SOOTHSAYER. You shall outlive the lady whom you serve. CHARMIAN. O, excellent! I love long life better than figs. SOOTHSAYER. You have seen and proved a fairer former fortune Than that which is to approach. CHARMIAN. Then belike my children shall have no names. Prithee, how many boys and wenches must I have? SOOTHSAYER. If every of your wishes had a womb, And fertile every wish, a million. CHARMIAN. Out, fool! I forgive thee for a witch. ALEXAS. You think none but your sheets are privy to your wishes. CHARMIAN. Nay, come, tell Iras hers. ALEXAS. We’ll know all our fortunes. ENOBARBUS. Mine, and most of our fortunes tonight, shall be drunk to bed. IRAS. There’s a palm presages chastity, if nothing else. CHARMIAN. E’en as the o’erflowing Nilus presageth famine. IRAS. Go, you wild bedfellow, you cannot soothsay. CHARMIAN. Nay, if an oily palm be not a fruitful prognostication, I cannot scratch mine ear. Prithee, tell her but workaday fortune. SOOTHSAYER. Your fortunes are alike. IRAS. But how, but how? give me particulars. SOOTHSAYER. I have said. IRAS. Am I not an inch of fortune better than she? CHARMIAN. Well, if you were but an inch of fortune better than I, where would you choose it? IRAS. Not in my husband’s nose. CHARMIAN. Our worser thoughts heavens mend! Alexas—come, his fortune! his fortune! O, 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, fiftyfold a cuckold! Good Isis, hear me this prayer, though thou deny me a matter of more weight; good Isis, I beseech thee! IRAS. Amen. Dear goddess, hear that prayer of the people! For, as it is a heartbreaking 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! CHARMIAN. Amen. ALEXAS. Lo now, if it lay in their hands to make me a cuckold, they would make themselves whores but they’d do’t! Enter Cleopatra. ENOBARBUS. Hush, Here comes Antony. CHARMIAN. Not he, the queen. CLEOPATRA. Saw you my lord? ENOBARBUS. No, lady. CLEOPATRA. Was he not here? CHARMIAN. No, madam. CLEOPATRA. He was disposed to mirth; but on the sudden A Roman thought hath struck him. Enobarbus! ENOBARBUS. Madam? CLEOPATRA. Seek him and bring him hither. Where’s Alexas? ALEXAS. Here, at your service. My lord approaches. Enter Antony with a Messenger. CLEOPATRA. We will not look upon him. Go with us. [_Exeunt Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Charmian, Iras, Alexas and Soothsayer._] MESSENGER. Fulvia thy wife first came into the field. ANTONY. Against my brother Lucius. MESSENGER. Ay. But soon that war had end, and the time’s state Made friends of them, jointing their force ’gainst Caesar, Whose better issue in the war from Italy Upon the first encounter drave them. ANTONY. Well, what worst? MESSENGER. The nature of bad news infects the teller. ANTONY. When it concerns the fool or coward. On. Things that are past are done with me. ’Tis thus: Who tells me true, though in his tale lie death, I hear him as he flattered. MESSENGER. Labienus— This is stiff news—hath with his Parthian force Extended Asia from Euphrates His conquering banner shook from Syria To Lydia and to Ionia, Whilst— ANTONY. “Antony”, thou wouldst say— MESSENGER. O, my lord! ANTONY. Speak to me home; mince not the general tongue. Name Cleopatra as she is called in Rome; Rail thou in Fulvia’s phrase, and taunt my faults With such full licence as both truth and malice Have power to utter. O, then we bring forth weeds When our quick minds lie still, and our ills told us Is as our earing. Fare thee well awhile. MESSENGER. At your noble pleasure. [_Exit Messenger._] Enter another Messenger. ANTONY. From Sicyon, ho, the news? Speak there! SECOND MESSENGER. The man from Sicyon— ANTONY. Is there such a one? SECOND MESSENGER. He stays upon your will. ANTONY. Let him appear. [_Exit second Messenger._] These strong Egyptian fetters I must break, Or lose myself in dotage. Enter another Messenger with a letter. What are you? THIRD MESSENGER. Fulvia thy wife is dead. ANTONY. Where died she? THIRD MESSENGER. In Sicyon: Her length of sickness, with what else more serious Importeth thee to know, this bears. [_Gives a letter._] ANTONY. Forbear me. [_Exit third Messenger._] There’s a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it. What our contempts doth often hurl from us, 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 shoved her on. I must from this enchanting queen break off. Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know, My idleness doth hatch. How now, Enobarbus! Enter Enobarbus. ENOBARBUS. What’s your pleasure, sir? ANTONY. I must with haste from hence. ENOBARBUS. 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. ANTONY. I must be gone. ENOBARBUS. Under a compelling occasion, let women die. It were pity to cast them away for nothing, though, between them and a great cause they should be esteemed nothing. Cleopatra, catching but the least noise of this, dies instantly. 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. ANTONY. She is cunning past man’s thought. ENOBARBUS. Alack, sir, no; her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love. We cannot call her winds and waters sighs and tears; they are greater storms and tempests than almanacs can report. This cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a shower of rain as well as Jove. ANTONY. Would I had never seen her! ENOBARBUS. O, sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece of work, which not to have been blest withal would have discredited your travel. ANTONY. Fulvia is dead. ENOBARBUS. Sir? ANTONY. Fulvia is dead. ENOBARBUS. Fulvia? ANTONY. Dead. ENOBARBUS. Why, sir, give the gods a thankful sacrifice. 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 brings forth a new petticoat: and indeed the tears live in an onion that should water this sorrow. ANTONY. The business she hath broached in the state Cannot endure my absence. ENOBARBUS. And the business you have broached here cannot be without you, especially that of Cleopatra’s, which wholly depends on your abode. ANTONY. No more light answers. Let our officers Have notice what we purpose. I shall break The cause of our expedience to the Queen, And get her leave 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 Caesar, and commands The empire of the sea. Our slippery people, Whose love is never linked 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’ th’ world may danger. Much is breeding Which, like the courser’s hair, hath yet but life And not a serpent’s poison. Say our pleasure To such whose place is under us, requires Our quick remove from hence. ENOBARBUS. I shall do’t. [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. Alexandria. A Room in Cleopatra’s palace. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Alexas and Iras. CLEOPATRA. Where is he? CHARMIAN. I did not see him since. CLEOPATRA. 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. [_Exit Alexas._] CHARMIAN. Madam, methinks, if you did love him dearly, You do not hold the method to enforce The like from him. CLEOPATRA. What should I do I do not? CHARMIAN. In each thing give him way; cross him in nothing. CLEOPATRA. Thou teachest like a fool: the way to lose him. CHARMIAN. Tempt him not so too far; I wish, forbear. In time we hate that which we often fear. But here comes Antony. Enter Antony. CLEOPATRA. I am sick and sullen. ANTONY. I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose— CLEOPATRA. Help me away, dear Charmian! I shall fall. It cannot be thus long; the sides of nature Will not sustain it. ANTONY. Now, my dearest queen— CLEOPATRA. Pray you, stand farther from me. ANTONY. What’s the matter? CLEOPATRA. 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 come! Let her not say ’tis I that keep you here. I have no power upon you; hers you are. ANTONY. The gods best know— CLEOPATRA. O, never was there queen So mightily betrayed! Yet at the first I saw the treasons planted. ANTONY. Cleopatra— CLEOPATRA. Why should I think you can be mine and true, Though you in swearing shake the throned gods, Who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous madness, To be entangled with those mouth-made vows Which break themselves in swearing! ANTONY. Most sweet queen— CLEOPATRA. Nay, pray you seek no colour for your going, But bid farewell and go. When you sued staying, 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 poor But was a race of heaven. They are so still, Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world, Art turned the greatest liar. ANTONY. How now, lady! CLEOPATRA. I would I had thy inches, thou shouldst know There were a heart in Egypt. ANTONY. Hear me, queen: The strong necessity of time commands Our services awhile, 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 Breed scrupulous faction; the hated, grown to strength, Are newly grown to love; the condemned Pompey, Rich in his father’s honour, creeps apace Into the hearts of such as have not thrived Upon the present state, whose numbers threaten; And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge By any desperate change. My more particular, And that which most with you should safe my going, Is Fulvia’s death. CLEOPATRA. Though age from folly could not give me freedom, It does from childishness. Can Fulvia die? ANTONY. She’s dead, my queen. Look here, and at thy sovereign leisure read The garboils she awaked; at the last, best, See when and where she died. CLEOPATRA. O most false love! Where be the sacred vials thou shouldst fill With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see, In Fulvia’s death how mine received shall be. ANTONY. Quarrel no more, but be prepared to know The purposes I bear; which are, or cease, As you shall give th’ advice. By the fire That quickens Nilus’ slime, I go from hence Thy soldier, servant, making peace or war As thou affects. CLEOPATRA. Cut my lace, Charmian, come! But let it be; I am quickly ill and well, So Antony loves. ANTONY. My precious queen, forbear, And give true evidence to his love, which stands An honourable trial. CLEOPATRA. So Fulvia told me. I prithee, 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. ANTONY. You’ll heat my blood. No more. CLEOPATRA. You can do better yet, but this is meetly. ANTONY. Now, by my sword— CLEOPATRA. And target. Still he mends. But this is not the best. Look, prithee, Charmian, How this Herculean Roman does become The carriage of his chafe. ANTONY. I’ll leave you, lady. CLEOPATRA. Courteous lord, one word. Sir, you and I must part, but that’s not it; Sir, you and I have loved, but there’s not it; That you know well. Something it is I would— O, my oblivion is a very Antony, And I am all forgotten. ANTONY. But that your royalty Holds idleness your subject, I should take you For idleness itself. CLEOPATRA. ’Tis sweating labour To bear such idleness so near the heart As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me, Since my becomings kill me when they do not Eye well to you. Your honour calls you hence; Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly, And all the gods go with you! Upon your sword Sit laurel victory, and smooth success Be strewed before your feet! ANTONY. Let us go. Come. Our separation so abides and flies That thou, residing here, goes yet with me, And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee. Away! [_Exeunt._] SCENE IV. Rome. An Apartment in Caesar’s House. Enter Octavius [Caesar], Lepidus and their train. CAESAR. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know, It is not Caesar’s natural vice to hate Our great competitor. From Alexandria This is the news: he fishes, drinks, and wastes The lamps of night in revel: is not more manlike Than Cleopatra, nor the queen of Ptolemy More womanly than he; hardly gave audience, or Vouchsafed to think he had partners. You shall find there A man who is the abstract of all faults That all men follow. LEPIDUS. I must not think there are Evils enough to darken all his goodness. His faults in him seem as the spots of heaven, More fiery by night’s blackness; hereditary Rather than purchased; what he cannot change Than what he chooses. CAESAR. You are too indulgent. Let’s grant it is not Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy, To give a kingdom for a mirth, to sit And keep the turn of tippling with a slave, To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet With knaves that smell of sweat. Say this becomes him— As his composure must be rare indeed Whom these things cannot blemish—yet must Antony No way excuse his foils when we do bear So great weight in his lightness. If he filled His vacancy with his voluptuousness, Full surfeits and the dryness of his bones Call on him for’t. But to confound such time That drums him from his sport, and speaks as loud As his own state and ours, ’tis to be chid As we rate boys who, being mature in knowledge, Pawn their experience to their present pleasure And so rebel to judgment. Enter a Messenger. LEPIDUS. Here’s more news. MESSENGER. Thy biddings have been done, and every hour, Most noble Caesar, shalt thou have report How ’tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea, And it appears he is beloved of those That only have feared Caesar. To the ports The discontents repair, and men’s reports Give him much wronged. CAESAR. I should have known no less. It hath been taught us from the primal state That he which is was wished until he were, And the ebbed man, ne’er loved till ne’er worth love, Comes deared by being lacked. This common body, Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream, Goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide, To rot itself with motion. Enter a second Messenger. SECOND MESSENGER. Caesar, I bring thee word Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates, Make the sea serve them, which they ear and wound With keels of every kind. Many hot inroads They make in Italy—the borders maritime Lack blood to think on’t—and flush youth revolt. No vessel can peep forth but ’tis as soon Taken as seen; for Pompey’s name strikes more Than could his war resisted. CAESAR. Antony, Leave thy lascivious wassails. When thou once Was beaten from Modena, where thou slew’st Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel Did famine follow, whom thou fought’st against, Though daintily brought up, with patience more Than savages could suffer. Thou didst drink The stale of horses and the gilded puddle Which beasts would cough at. Thy palate then did deign The roughest berry on the rudest hedge. Yea, like the stag when snow the pasture sheets, The barks of trees thou browsed. On the Alps It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh Which some did die to look on. And all this— It wounds thine honour that I speak it now— Was borne so like a soldier that thy cheek So much as lanked not. LEPIDUS. ’Tis pity of him. CAESAR. Let his shames quickly Drive him to Rome. ’Tis time we twain Did show ourselves i’ th’ field, and to that end Assemble we immediate council. Pompey Thrives in our idleness. LEPIDUS. Tomorrow, Caesar, I shall be furnished to inform you rightly Both what by sea and land I can be able To front this present time. CAESAR. Till which encounter It is my business too. Farewell. LEPIDUS. Farewell, my lord. What you shall know meantime Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir, To let me be partaker. CAESAR. Doubt not, sir. I knew it for my bond. [_Exeunt._] SCENE V. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras and Mardian. CLEOPATRA. Charmian! CHARMIAN. Madam? CLEOPATRA. Ha, ha! Give me to drink mandragora. CHARMIAN. Why, madam? CLEOPATRA. That I might sleep out this great gap of time My Antony is away. CHARMIAN. You think of him too much. CLEOPATRA. O, ’tis treason! CHARMIAN. Madam, I trust not so. CLEOPATRA. Thou, eunuch Mardian! MARDIAN. What’s your highness’ pleasure? CLEOPATRA. Not now to hear thee sing. I take no pleasure In aught an eunuch has. ’Tis well for thee That, being unseminared, thy freer thoughts May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou affections? MARDIAN. Yes, gracious madam. CLEOPATRA. Indeed? MARDIAN. Not in deed, madam, for I can do nothing But what indeed is honest to be done. Yet have I fierce affections, and think What Venus did with Mars. CLEOPATRA. O, Charmian, Where think’st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he? Or does he walk? Or is he on his horse? O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony! Do bravely, horse, for wot’st thou whom thou mov’st? The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm And burgonet of men. He’s speaking now, Or murmuring “Where’s my serpent of old Nile?” For so he calls me. Now I feed myself With most delicious poison. Think on me That am with Phœbus’ amorous pinches black, And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Caesar, When thou wast here above the ground, I was A morsel for a monarch. And great Pompey Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow; There would he anchor his aspect, and die With looking on his life. Enter Alexas. ALEXAS. Sovereign of Egypt, hail! CLEOPATRA. How much unlike art thou Mark Antony! Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath With his tinct gilded thee. How goes it with my brave Mark Antony? ALEXAS. Last thing he did, dear queen, He kissed—the last of many doubled kisses— This orient pearl. His speech sticks in my heart. CLEOPATRA. Mine ear must pluck it thence. ALEXAS. “Good friend,” quoth he, “Say, the firm Roman to great Egypt sends This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot, To mend the petty present, I will piece Her opulent throne with kingdoms. All the east, Say thou, shall call her mistress.” So he nodded And soberly did mount an arm-gaunt steed, Who neighed so high that what I would have spoke Was beastly dumbed by him. CLEOPATRA. What, was he sad or merry? ALEXAS. Like to the time o’ th’ year between the extremes Of hot and cold, he was nor sad nor merry. CLEOPATRA. O well-divided disposition!—Note him, Note him, good Charmian, ’tis the man; but note him: He was not sad, for he would shine on those That make their looks by his; he was not merry, Which seemed to tell them his remembrance lay In Egypt with his joy; but between both. O heavenly mingle!—Be’st thou sad or merry, The violence of either thee becomes, So does it no man else.—Met’st thou my posts? ALEXAS. Ay, madam, twenty several messengers. Why do you send so thick? CLEOPATRA. Who’s born that day When I forget to send to Antony Shall die a beggar.—Ink and paper, Charmian.— Welcome, my good Alexas.—Did I, Charmian, Ever love Caesar so? CHARMIAN. O that brave Caesar! CLEOPATRA. Be choked with such another emphasis! Say “the brave Antony.” CHARMIAN. The valiant Caesar! CLEOPATRA. By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth If thou with Caesar paragon again My man of men. CHARMIAN. By your most gracious pardon, I sing but after you. CLEOPATRA. My salad days, When I was green in judgment, cold in blood, To say as I said then. But come, away, Get me ink and paper. He shall have every day a several greeting, Or I’ll unpeople Egypt. [_Exeunt._] ACT II SCENE I. Messina. A Room in Pompey’s house. Enter Pompey, Menecrates and Menas in warlike manner. POMPEY. If the great gods be just, they shall assist The deeds of justest men. MENECRATES. Know, worthy Pompey, That what they do delay they not deny. POMPEY. Whiles we are suitors to their throne, decays The thing we sue for. MENECRATES. We, ignorant of ourselves, Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers Deny us for our good; so find we profit By losing of our prayers. POMPEY. I shall do well. The people love me, and the sea is mine; My powers are crescent, and my auguring hope Says it will come to th’ full. Mark Antony In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make No wars without doors. Caesar gets money where He loses hearts. Lepidus flatters both, Of both is flattered; but he neither loves Nor either cares for him. MENAS. Caesar and Lepidus Are in the field. A mighty strength they carry. POMPEY. Where have you this? ’Tis false. MENAS. From Silvius, sir. POMPEY. He dreams. I know they are in Rome together, Looking for Antony. But all the charms of love, Salt Cleopatra, soften thy waned lip! Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both; Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts; Keep his brain fuming. Epicurean cooks Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite, That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honour Even till a Lethe’d dullness— Enter Varrius. How now, Varrius! VARRIUS. This is most certain that I shall deliver: Mark Antony is every hour in Rome Expected. Since he went from Egypt ’tis A space for farther travel. POMPEY. I could have given less matter A better ear.—Menas, I did not think This amorous surfeiter would have donned his helm For such a petty war. His soldiership Is twice the other twain. But let us rear The higher our opinion, that our stirring Can from the lap of Egypt’s widow pluck The ne’er lust-wearied Antony. MENAS. I cannot hope Caesar and Antony shall well greet together. His wife that’s dead did trespasses to Caesar; His brother warred upon him, although I think, Not moved by Antony. POMPEY. I know not, Menas, How lesser enmities may give way to greater. Were’t not that we stand up against them all, ’Twere pregnant they should square between themselves, For they have entertained cause enough To draw their swords. But how the fear of us May cement their divisions, and bind up The petty difference, we yet not know. Be’t as our gods will have’t! It only stands Our lives upon to use our strongest hands. Come, Menas. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. Rome. A Room in the House of Lepidus. Enter Enobarbus and Lepidus. LEPIDUS. Good Enobarbus, ’tis a worthy deed, And shall become you well, to entreat your captain To soft and gentle speech. ENOBARBUS. I shall entreat him To answer like himself. If Caesar move him, Let Antony look over Caesar’s head And speak as loud as Mars. By Jupiter, Were I the wearer of Antonius’ beard, I would not shave’t today. LEPIDUS. ’Tis not a time For private stomaching. ENOBARBUS. Every time Serves for the matter that is then born in’t. LEPIDUS. But small to greater matters must give way. ENOBARBUS. Not if the small come first. LEPIDUS. Your speech is passion; But pray you stir no embers up. Here comes The noble Antony. Enter Antony and Ventidius. ENOBARBUS. And yonder Caesar. Enter Caesar, Maecenas and Agrippa. ANTONY. If we compose well here, to Parthia. Hark, Ventidius. CAESAR. I do not know, Maecenas. Ask Agrippa. LEPIDUS. Noble friends, That which combined us was most great, and let not A leaner action rend us. What’s amiss, May it be gently heard. When we debate Our trivial difference loud, we do commit Murder in healing wounds. Then, noble partners, The rather for I earnestly beseech, Touch you the sourest points with sweetest terms, Nor curstness grow to th’ matter. ANTONY. ’Tis spoken well. Were we before our armies, and to fight, I should do thus. CAESAR. Welcome to Rome. ANTONY. Thank you. CAESAR. Sit. ANTONY. Sit, sir. CAESAR. Nay, then. ANTONY. I learn you take things ill which are not so, Or being, concern you not. CAESAR. I must be laughed at If, or for nothing or a little, I Should say myself offended, and with you Chiefly i’ th’ world; more laughed at that I should Once name you derogately when to sound your name It not concerned me. ANTONY. My being in Egypt, Caesar, What was’t to you? CAESAR. No more than my residing here at Rome Might be to you in Egypt. Yet if you there Did practise on my state, your being in Egypt Might be my question. ANTONY. How intend you, practised? CAESAR. You may be pleased to catch at mine intent By what did here befall me. Your wife and brother Made wars upon me, and their contestation Was theme for you; you were the word of war. ANTONY. You do mistake your business. My brother never Did urge me in his act. I did inquire it, And have my learning from some true reports That drew their swords with you. Did he not rather Discredit my authority with yours, And make the wars alike against my stomach, Having alike your cause? Of this my letters Before did satisfy you. If you’ll patch a quarrel, As matter whole you have not to make it with, It must not be with this. CAESAR. You praise yourself By laying defects of judgment to me; but You patched up your excuses. ANTONY. Not so, not so. I know you could not lack—I am certain on’t— Very necessity of this thought, that I, Your partner in the cause ’gainst which he fought, Could not with graceful eyes attend those wars Which fronted mine own peace. As for my wife, I would you had her spirit in such another. The third o’ th’ world is yours, which with a snaffle You may pace easy, but not such a wife. ENOBARBUS. Would we had all such wives, that the men Might go to wars with the women. ANTONY. So much uncurbable, her garboils, Caesar, Made out of her impatience—which not wanted Shrewdness of policy too—I grieving grant Did you too much disquiet. For that you must But say I could not help it. CAESAR. I wrote to you When rioting in Alexandria; you Did pocket up my letters, and with taunts Did gibe my missive out of audience. ANTONY. Sir, He fell upon me ere admitted, then. Three kings I had newly feasted, and did want Of what I was i’ th’ morning. But next day I told him of myself, which was as much As to have asked him pardon. Let this fellow Be nothing of our strife; if we contend, Out of our question wipe him. CAESAR. You have broken The article of your oath, which you shall never Have tongue to charge me with. LEPIDUS. Soft, Caesar! ANTONY. No, Lepidus, let him speak. The honour is sacred which he talks on now, Supposing that I lacked it. But on, Caesar: The article of my oath? CAESAR. To lend me arms and aid when I required them, The which you both denied. ANTONY. Neglected, rather; And then when poisoned hours had bound me up From mine own knowledge. As nearly as I may I’ll play the penitent to you. But mine honesty Shall not make poor my greatness, nor my power Work without it. Truth is that Fulvia, To have me out of Egypt, made wars here, For which myself, the ignorant motive, do So far ask pardon as befits mine honour To stoop in such a case. LEPIDUS. ’Tis noble spoken. MAECENAS. If it might please you to enforce no further The griefs between ye; to forget them quite Were to remember that the present need Speaks to atone you. LEPIDUS. Worthily spoken, Maecenas. ENOBARBUS. Or, if you borrow one another’s love for the instant, you may, when you hear no more words of Pompey, return it again. You shall have time to wrangle in when you have nothing else to do. ANTONY. Thou art a soldier only. Speak no more. ENOBARBUS. That truth should be silent I had almost forgot. ANTONY. You wrong this presence; therefore speak no more. ENOBARBUS. Go to, then. Your considerate stone! CAESAR. I do not much dislike the matter, but The manner of his speech; for’t cannot be We shall remain in friendship, our conditions So differing in their acts. Yet if I knew What hoop should hold us staunch, from edge to edge O’ th’ world I would pursue it. AGRIPPA. Give me leave, Caesar. CAESAR. Speak, Agrippa. AGRIPPA. Thou hast a sister by the mother’s side, Admired Octavia. Great Mark Antony Is now a widower. CAESAR. Say not so, Agrippa. If Cleopatra heard you, your reproof Were well deserved of rashness. ANTONY. I am not married, Caesar. Let me hear Agrippa further speak. AGRIPPA. To hold you in perpetual amity, To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts With an unslipping knot, take Antony Octavia to his wife; whose beauty claims No worse a husband than the best of men; Whose virtue and whose general graces speak That which none else can utter. By this marriage All little jealousies, which now seem great, And all great fears, which now import their dangers, Would then be nothing. Truths would be tales, Where now half-tales be truths. Her love to both Would each to other, and all loves to both, Draw after her. Pardon what I have spoke, For ’tis a studied, not a present thought, By duty ruminated. ANTONY. Will Caesar speak? CAESAR. Not till he hears how Antony is touched With what is spoke already. ANTONY. What power is in Agrippa, If I would say “Agrippa, be it so,” To make this good? CAESAR. The power of Caesar, and His power unto Octavia. ANTONY. May I never To this good purpose, that so fairly shows, Dream of impediment! Let me have thy hand. Further this act of grace; and from this hour The heart of brothers govern in our loves And sway our great designs! CAESAR. There’s my hand. A sister I bequeath you, whom no brother Did ever love so dearly. Let her live To join our kingdoms and our hearts; and never Fly off our loves again! LEPIDUS. Happily, amen! ANTONY. I did not think to draw my sword ’gainst Pompey, For he hath laid strange courtesies and great Of late upon me. I must thank him only, Lest my remembrance suffer ill report; At heel of that, defy him. LEPIDUS. Time calls upon ’s. Of us must Pompey presently be sought, Or else he seeks out us. ANTONY. Where lies he? CAESAR. About the Mount Misena. ANTONY. What is his strength by land? CAESAR. Great and increasing; but by sea He is an absolute master. ANTONY. So is the fame. Would we had spoke together! Haste we for it. Yet, ere we put ourselves in arms, dispatch we The business we have talked of. CAESAR. With most gladness, And do invite you to my sister’s view, Whither straight I’ll lead you. ANTONY. Let us, Lepidus, not lack your company. LEPIDUS. Noble Antony, not sickness should detain me. [_Flourish. Exeunt all except Enobarbus, Agrippa and Maecenas._] MAECENAS. Welcome from Egypt, sir. ENOBARBUS. Half the heart of Caesar, worthy Maecenas! My honourable friend, Agrippa! AGRIPPA. Good Enobarbus! MAECENAS. We have cause to be glad that matters are so well digested. You stayed well by ’t in Egypt. ENOBARBUS. Ay, sir, we did sleep day out of countenance and made the night light with drinking. MAECENAS. Eight wild boars roasted whole at a breakfast, and but twelve persons there. Is this true? ENOBARBUS. This was but as a fly by an eagle. We had much more monstrous matter of feast, which worthily deserved noting. MAECENAS. She’s a most triumphant lady, if report be square to her. ENOBARBUS. When she first met Mark Antony, she pursed up his heart upon the river of Cydnus. AGRIPPA. There she appeared indeed, or my reporter devised well for her. ENOBARBUS. I will tell you. The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne, Burned on the water. The poop was beaten gold; Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, It beggared all description: she did lie In her pavilion, cloth-of-gold of tissue, O’erpicturing that Venus where we see The fancy outwork nature. On each side her Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, With divers-coloured fans, whose wind did seem To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool, And what they undid did. AGRIPPA. O, rare for Antony! ENOBARBUS. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides, So many mermaids, tended her i’ th’ eyes, And made their bends adornings. At the helm A seeming mermaid steers. The silken tackle Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands That yarely frame the office. From the barge A strange invisible perfume hits the sense Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast Her people out upon her, and Antony, Enthroned i’ th’ market-place, did sit alone, Whistling to th’ air, which, but for vacancy, Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too, And made a gap in nature. AGRIPPA. Rare Egyptian! ENOBARBUS. Upon her landing, Antony sent to her, Invited her to supper. She replied It should be better he became her guest, Which she entreated. Our courteous Antony, Whom ne’er the word of “No” woman heard speak, Being barbered ten times o’er, goes to the feast, And, for his ordinary, pays his heart For what his eyes eat only. AGRIPPA. Royal wench! She made great Caesar lay his sword to bed. He ploughed her, and she cropped. ENOBARBUS. I saw her once Hop forty paces through the public street And, having lost her breath, she spoke and panted, That she did make defect perfection, And, breathless, pour breath forth. MAECENAS. Now Antony must leave her utterly. ENOBARBUS. Never. He will not. Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety. Other women cloy The appetites they feed, but she makes hungry Where most she satisfies. For vilest things Become themselves in her, that the holy priests Bless her when she is riggish. MAECENAS. If beauty, wisdom, modesty can settle The heart of Antony, Octavia is A blessed lottery to him. AGRIPPA. Let us go. Good Enobarbus, make yourself my guest Whilst you abide here. ENOBARBUS. Humbly, sir, I thank you. [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. Rome. A Room in Caesar’s House. Enter Antony, Caesar, Octavia between them. ANTONY. The world and my great office will sometimes Divide me from your bosom. OCTAVIA. All which time Before the gods my knee shall bow my prayers To them for you. ANTONY. Good night, sir.—My Octavia, Read not my blemishes in the world’s report. I have not kept my square, but that to come Shall all be done by th’ rule. Good night, dear lady. OCTAVIA. Good night, sir. CAESAR. Good night. [_Exeunt Caesar and Octavia._] Enter Soothsayer. ANTONY. Now, sirrah, you do wish yourself in Egypt? SOOTHSAYER. Would I had never come from thence, nor you thither! ANTONY. If you can, your reason. SOOTHSAYER. I see it in my motion, have it not in my tongue. But yet hie you to Egypt again. ANTONY. Say to me, Whose fortunes shall rise higher, Caesar’s or mine? SOOTHSAYER. Caesar’s. Therefore, O Antony, stay not by his side. Thy dæmon—that thy spirit which keeps thee—is Noble, courageous, high, unmatchable, Where Caesar’s is not. But near him, thy angel Becomes afeard, as being o’erpowered. Therefore Make space enough between you. ANTONY. Speak this no more. SOOTHSAYER. To none but thee; no more but when to thee. If thou dost play with him at any game, Thou art sure to lose; and of that natural luck He beats thee ’gainst the odds. Thy lustre thickens When he shines by. I say again, thy spirit Is all afraid to govern thee near him; But, he away, ’tis noble. ANTONY. Get thee gone. Say to Ventidius I would speak with him. [_Exit Soothsayer._] He shall to Parthia. Be it art or hap, He hath spoken true. The very dice obey him, And in our sports my better cunning faints Under his chance. If we draw lots, he speeds; His cocks do win the battle still of mine When it is all to naught, and his quails ever Beat mine, inhooped, at odds. I will to Egypt: And though I make this marriage for my peace, I’ th’ East my pleasure lies. Enter Ventidius. O, come, Ventidius, You must to Parthia. Your commission’s ready. Follow me and receive ’t. [_Exeunt._] SCENE IV. Rome. A street. Enter Lepidus, Maecenas and Agrippa. LEPIDUS. Trouble yourselves no further. Pray you hasten Your generals after. AGRIPPA. Sir, Mark Antony Will e’en but kiss Octavia, and we’ll follow. LEPIDUS. Till I shall see you in your soldier’s dress, Which will become you both, farewell. MAECENAS. We shall, As I conceive the journey, be at the Mount Before you, Lepidus. LEPIDUS. Your way is shorter; My purposes do draw me much about. You’ll win two days upon me. BOTH. Sir, good success! LEPIDUS. Farewell. [_Exeunt._] SCENE V. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, Alexas. CLEOPATRA. Give me some music—music, moody food Of us that trade in love. ALL. The music, ho! Enter Mardian, the eunuch. CLEOPATRA. Let it alone. Let’s to billiards. Come, Charmian. CHARMIAN. My arm is sore. Best play with Mardian. CLEOPATRA. As well a woman with an eunuch played As with a woman. Come, you’ll play with me, sir? MARDIAN. As well as I can, madam. CLEOPATRA. And when good will is showed, though’t come too short, The actor may plead pardon. I’ll none now. Give me mine angle; we’ll to the river. There, My music playing far off, I will betray Tawny-finned fishes. My bended hook shall pierce Their slimy jaws, and as I draw them up I’ll think them every one an Antony, And say “Ah, ha! You’re caught.” CHARMIAN. ’Twas merry when You wagered on your angling; when your diver Did hang a salt fish on his hook, which he With fervency drew up. CLEOPATRA. That time?—O times!— I laughed him out of patience; and that night I laughed him into patience, and next morn, Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed, Then put my tires and mantles on him, whilst I wore his sword Philippan. Enter Messenger. O! from Italy! Ram thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears, That long time have been barren. MESSENGER. Madam, madam— CLEOPATRA. Antony’s dead! If thou say so, villain, Thou kill’st thy mistress. But well and free, If thou so yield him, there is gold, and here My bluest veins to kiss, a hand that kings Have lipped, and trembled kissing. MESSENGER. First, madam, he’s well. CLEOPATRA. Why, there’s more gold. But sirrah, mark, we use To say the dead are well. Bring it to that, The gold I give thee will I melt and pour Down thy ill-uttering throat. MESSENGER. Good madam, hear me. CLEOPATRA. Well, go to, I will. But there’s no goodness in thy face if Antony Be free and healthful. So tart a favour To trumpet such good tidings! If not well, Thou shouldst come like a Fury crowned with snakes, Not like a formal man. MESSENGER. Will’t please you hear me? CLEOPATRA. I have a mind to strike thee ere thou speak’st. Yet if thou say Antony lives, is well, Or friends with Caesar, or not captive to him, I’ll set thee in a shower of gold and hail Rich pearls upon thee. MESSENGER. Madam, he’s well. CLEOPATRA. Well said.
{'title': 'Antony and Cleopatra by William Shakespeare', 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}