Amb. Ay, my lord.

Ant. The Queen fhall then have courtesy, So fhe will yield us up.

Amb. He fays fo.

Ant. Let her know't.

To the boy Cafar fend this grizled head,
And he will fill thy wishes to the brim
With Principalities.

Cleo. Thy head, my lord?

Ant. To him again; tell him, he wears the rose Of youth upon him; from which, the world should

note

Something particular; his coin, fhips, legions, May be a coward's, whofe minifters would prevail Under the Service of a child, as foon

As i' th' command of Cafar. I dare him therefore
To lay his gay comparifons apart,

And answer me declin'd, fword against fword,.
Ourselves alone; I'll write it, follow me.

[Exit Antony.
Eno. Yes, like enough; high-battled Cæfar will
Unftate his happiness, and be ftaged to th' fhew
Against a sworder.-I fee, men's judgments are
A parcel of their fortunes, and things outward
Do draw the inward quality after them,

To fuffer all alike. That he fhould dream,
Knowing all measures, the full Cæfar will
Answer his emptiness!-Cæfar, thou haft fubdu'd
His judgment too.

Enter a Servant.

Ser. A meffenger from Cæfar.

Cleo. What, no more ceremony ? fee, my women,Against the blown rose may they flop their nofe, That kneel'd unto the buds. Admit him, Sir.

Eno. Mine honefty and I begin to fquare; Tho' loyalty, well held, to fools does make Our faith mere folly: yet he, that can endure M 2

Το

To follow with allegiance a fall'n lord,
Does conquer him that did his mafter conquer,
And earns a place i' th' ftory.

Enter Thyreus.

Cleo. Cafar's will?

Thyr. Hear it apart.

Cleo. None but friends; fay boldly.
Thyr. So, haply, are they friends to Antony.
Eno. He needs as many, Sir, as Cæfar has:
Or needs not us if Cæfar please. Our mafter
Will leap to be his friend: for, as you know,
Whose he is, we are, and that's Cæfar's.
Thyr. So.

Thus then, thou moft renown'd, Cafar intreats,
Not to confider in what cafe thou ftand'ft
Further than he is Cæfar.

As

Cleo. Go on ;-right royal.

Thyr. He knows, that you embrace not Antony you did love, but as you fear'd him.

Cleo. Oh!

[Afide.

Thyr. The fears upon your honour, therefore, he Does pity, as conftrained blemishes,

Not as deferv'd.

Cleo. He is a God, and knows

What is moft right.

But conquer'd merely.

Mine honour was not yielded,

Eno. To be fure of that,

I will afk Antony-Sir, thou'rt fo leaky,
That we must leave thee to thy finking, for

Thy deareft quit thee.

Thyr. Shall I fay to Cæfar

[Exit Eno.

What you require of him? he partly begs,

To be defir'd to give. It much would please him, That of his fortunes you mould make a ftaff

To lean upon.

But it would warm his fpirits,

To hear from me yo had left Antony,

And put yourfelf under his fhroud, the univerfal

landlord,

Cleo.

Cleo. What's your name ?

Thyr. My name is Thyreus.
Cleo. Moft kind messenger,

Say to great Cafar this; in deputation

I kifs his conqu❜ring hand: tell him, I'm prompt
To lay my crown at's feet, and there to kneel.
Tell him, that from his all-obeying breath
I hear the doom of Egypt.

Thyr. 'Tis your nobleft course :

Wisdom and fortune combating together,

If that the former dare but what it can,

No chance may fhake it.

My duty on your hand.

Give me grace to lay

Cleo. Your Cafar's father oft,

When he hath mus'd of taking Kingdoms in,
Beftow'd his lips on that unworthy place,
As it rain'd killes.

Ant.

SCENE X.

Enter Antony, and Enobarbus.

AVOURS! by Jove, that thunders.

FAVOURS!

What art thou, fellow?

[Seeing Thyreus kifs her hand.

Thyr. One that but performs

The bidding of the fullest man, and worthieft
To have command obey'd.

Eno. You will be whipp'd.

Ant. Aproach there-ah, you kite! now, Gods

and Devils!

Authority melts from me of late.-When I cry'd, hoa! Like boys unto a mufs, Kings would start forth, And cry, your will? have you no ears?

I'm Antony yet. Take hence this Jack, and whip him. Enter Servants.

Eno. 'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp,

Than with an old one dying.
M 3

Ant.

Ant. Moon and ftars!

Whip him--Were't twenty of the greatest Tri

butaries

That do acknowledge Cafar, fhould I find them.
So faucy with the hand of She here, (what's her

name,

Since he was Cleopatra ?)-whip him, fellows-
Till, like a boy, you fee him cringe his face,
And whine aloud for mercy. Take him hence.
Thyr. Mark Antony-

Ant. Tug him away; being whipp'd,

Bring him again: this Jack of Cæfar's fhall

Bear us an errand to him.

[Exeunt with Thyreus.

You were half blafted, ere I knew you: ha!
Have I my pillow left unpreft in Rome,
Forborn the getting of a lawful race,
And by a jem of women, to be abus'd
By one that looks on feeders ?

Cleo. Good my Lord,

Ant. You have been a boggler ever.
But when we in our vicioufnefs grow hard,

(Oh mifery on't!) the wife Gods feal our eyes:

In our own filth drop our clear judgments; make us Adore our errors, laugh at's while we ftrut

To our confusion.

Cleo. Oh, is't come to this?

Ant. I found you as a morfel, cold upon Dead Cafar's trencher: nay, you were a fragment Of Cneius Pompey's; besides what hotter hours, Unregistred in vulgar fame, you have

Luxuriously pickt out.

For, I am fure,

Though you can guess what temperance fhould be, You know not what it is.

Cleo. Wherefore is this?

Ant. To let a fellow that will take rewards,
And fay, God quit you, be familiar with
My play-fellow, your hand; this kingly feal,
And plighter of high hearts !-O that I were

Upon

Upon the hill of Bafan, to out-roar
The horned herd, for I have favage caufe!
And to proclaim it civilly, were like

A halter'd neck, which does the hangman thank
For being yare about him. Is he whipp'd?

Re-enter a Servant, with Thyreus.

Ser. Soundly, my lord.

Ant. Cry'd he? and begg'd a' pardon?

Ser. He did afk favour.

Ant. If that thy father live, let him repent

Thou waft not made his daughter; and be thou forry. To follow Cæfar in his triumph, fince

Thou hast been whipp'd for following him. Henceforth,

The white hand of a lady fever thee,

Shake to look on't.--Go, get thee back to Cafur,
Tell him thy entertainment: look, thou fay,
He makes me angry with him: For he seems
Proud and difdainful, harping on what I am,
Not what he knew I was.
He makes me angry;

And, at this time, moft eafy 'tis to do't:

When my, good stars, that were, my former guides,
Have empty left their orbs, and fhot their fires
Into the abyfm of hell... If he mislike

My fpeech, and what is done, tell him, he has
Hipparchus my enfranchis'd bondman, whom
He may at pleafure whip, or hang, or torture,
As he fhall like, to quit me. Urge it thou :—
Hence with thy ftripes, be gone. [Exit Thyreus.

Cleo. Have you done yet?

Ant. Alack, our terrene moon is now eclips'd, And it portends alone the fall of Antony.

Cleo. I muft ftay his time.

Ant. To flatter Cafar, would you mingle eyes With one that ties his points?

Cleo. Not know me yet?

Ant. Cold-hearted toward me!