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Cento | We must return to th’ Court of Guard; the 282 ANTONY and C LEOPATRA. Ride on the pants triumphing.

Cleo. Lord of Lords!
Oh, infinite virtue! com'st thou smiling from
The world's great snare uncaught ?
Ant. My nightingale !

(gray. We've beat them to their beds. What! Girl, though Do something mingle with our younger brown, yet

A brain that nourishes our nerves, and can
Get goal for goal of youth. Behold this man,
Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand :
Kiss it, my warrior; he hath fought to-day,
As if a God in hate of mankind bad
Destroyed in such a shape.

Cleo. I'll give thee, friend,
An arnour all of gold; it was a King's.

Ant. He has deserv'd it, were it carbuncled
Like holy Phæbus' Car.--Give me thy hand ;
Through Alexandria make a jolly march;
Bear our hackt targets like the men that owe them.
Had our great palace the capacity
To camp this hoft, we would all sup together;
And drink carouses to the next day's fate,
Wbich promises royal peril. Trumpeters,
With brazen din blaft you the city's ear,
Make mingle with our ratling tabourines,
That heav'n and earth may strike their sounds to-

gether, Applauding our approach.

[Exeunt. SC E N E VII.

Changes to Cæsar's Camp.
Enter a Centry, and his Company. Enobarbus follows.

F we be not reliev'd within this hour,

night Is fhiny, and, they say, we shall embattle


By th' second hour i'th' morn.

1 Watch. This last day was a shrewd one to's.
Eno. O bear me witness, night!
2 Watch. What man is this?
i Watch. Stand close, and list him.

Eno. Be witness to me, O thou blessed moon,
When men revolted shall


Bear hateful memory ; poor Enobarbus did
Before thy face repent.

Cent. Enobarbus?
3 Watch. Peace; hark further.

Eno. Oh sovereign Mistress of true melancholy,
The poisonous damp of night difpunge upon me,
That life, a very rebel to my will,
May hang no longer on me. Throw


Against the flint and hardnefs of my fault,
Which, being dried with grief, will break to powder,
And finish all foul thoughts. Oh Antony,
Nobler than my revolt is infamous,
Forgive me in thine own particular;
But let the world rank ne in register
A master-leaver, and a fugitive :
Oh Antony ! oh Antony !

[Dies. i Watch. Let's speak to him.

Cent. Let's hear him, for the things he speaks
May concern Cæfar.

2 Watch. Let's do so, but he sleeps.

Cent. Swoons rather, for fo bad a prayer as his
Was never yet for sleep.

I Watch, Gowe to him,
2 Watch. Awake, Sir, awake, speak to us.
1 Watch. Hear


Cent. The hand of death has saught him.

[Drums afar off
Hark, how the drums demurely wake the sleepers :
Let's bear him to the Court of Guard; he is of note.
Our hour is fully out.
2 Watch. Come on then, he may recover yet.


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Between the two Camps.
Enter Antony, and Scaruș, with their Army.
Ant. THEIR preparation is to-day by sea,

We please them not by land.
Scar. For both, my Lord.

Ant. I would, they'd fight i' th' fire, or in the air,
We'd fight there too. But this it is; our foot
Upon the hills adjoining to the City
Shall stay with us. Order for sea is given ;
They have put forth the haven: further on,
Where their appointment we may best discover,
And look on their endeavour.

Enter Cæfar, and his Army.
Cæs. But being charg'd, we will be ftill by land,
Which, as I take't, we shall; for his best force
Is forth to man his Gallies. To the vales,
And hold our beft advantage.

(Alarm afar off, as at a sea-fight.
Enter Antony and Scarus.
Ant. Yet they are not join'd:
Where yond pine stands, I shall discover all,
I'll bring thee word straight,how 'tis like to go. (Exit.

Scar. Swallows have built
In Cleopatra's fails their nefts. The Augurs
Say, they know not—they cannot tell-look grimly,
And dare not speak their knowledge. Antony
Is valiant, and dejected; and by starts,
His fretted fortunes give him hope and fear
Of what he has, and has not.




Changes to the Palace in Alexandria.

Enter Antony.
Ant. LL's lost! this foul Egyptian hath betray'd me!

My fleet hath yielded to the foc, and yonder They cast their caps up, and carouse together Like friends long lost. Triple-turn'd whore! 'tis thou Haft sold me to this Novice, and my heart Makes only wars on thee. Bid them all fly, For when I am reveng'd upon my Charm, I have done all. Bid them all fly, be gone, Oh, Sun, thy uprise shall I see no more: Fortune and Antony part here, even here Do we shake hands--all come to this—! *the hearts, That pantler'd me at heels, to whom I

gave, Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets On blossoming Cæfar: and this pine is bark'd, That over-topt them all. Betray'd I am. Oh, this falfe foul of Egypt ! this gay Charm, Whose eye beck'd forth my wars, and call'd them home, Whose bosom was my Crownet, my chief end, Like a right Gipsy, hath at fast and loose Beguil'd me to the very heart of loss. What Eros Eros!

Enter Cleopatra. Ah! thou spell! avant

Cleo. Why is my Lord enrag'd against his Love?

Ant. Vanish, or I shall give thee thy deserving, And blemish Cæsar's Triumph. Let him take thee,

The hearts That Pannell'd me at heels, &c.] Thus the old Editions. But Shakespear must certainly have wrote;

That Pantler'd me at heels; i. l. run after me like Footinen, or Puntlers; which word originally fignified the Servants who have the care of the Bread, but is used by our Poet for a menial Servant in general, as well as in its native Acceptation.



And hoist thee up to the shouting Plebeians ;
Follow his chariot, like the greatest spot
Of all thy sex. Most monster-like, be shewn
For poor's diminutives, for doits; and let
Patient Odavia plough thy visage up
With her prepared nails.' 'Tis well, thou'rt gone ;

(Exit Cleopatra.
If it be well to live. But better 'twere,
Thou fell'ft into my fury; for one death
Might have prevented many. Eros, hoa!
The shirt of Neffus is upon me; teach me,
Alcides, thou mine ancettor; thy rage
Led thee lodge Lichas on the horns o'th' Moon,
And with those hands that grasp the heaviest club,
Subdue thy worthiest felf. The Witch shall die;
To the young Roman boy she hath fold me, and I fall
Under his plot: she dies for't. Eros, hoa ! [Exit.
Re-enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Mardian.

Cleo. Help me, my wonien! oh, he is more mad Than Telamon for his shield ; the boar of Theffaly Was never so imboft.

Char. To th' Monument, There lock yourself, and send him word you're dead: The foul and body rive not more in parting, Than Greatness going off.

Cleo. To th' Monument : Mardian, go tell him I have slain myself; Say, that the last I spoke was Antony; And word it, prythee, piteously. Hence, Mardian, And bring me how he takes my death. To ih ' Monument,



Re-enter Antony, and Eros. Ant. EROS, thou yet behold'ít me.

. Eros. Ay, noble Lord.


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