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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!
(gray. We've beat them to their beds. What! Girl, though Do something mingle with our younger brown, yet
Cleo. I'll give thee, friend,
Ant. He has deserv'd it, were it carbuncled
gether, Applauding our approach.
[Exeunt. SC E N E VII.
Changes to Cæsar's Camp.
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. Be witness to me, O thou blessed moon,
Eno. Oh sovereign Mistress of true melancholy,
[Dies. i Watch. Let's speak to him.
Cent. Let's hear him, for the things he speaks
2 Watch. Let's do so, but he sleeps.
Cent. Swoons rather, for fo bad a prayer as his
I Watch, Gowe to him,
[Drums afar off
Between the two Camps.
We please them not by land.
Ant. I would, they'd fight i' th' fire, or in the air,
Scar. Swallows have built
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 ;
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,
S CE N E X.
Re-enter Antony, and Eros. Ant. EROS, thou yet behold'ít me.
. Eros. Ay, noble Lord.