The same. A room in Cæsar's house.

Enter Cæsar, Antony, Octavia between them; Attendants, and a Soothsayer.

Ant. The world, and my great office, will some


Divide me from your bosom.


All which time

Before the gods my knee shall bow my prayers
To them for you.


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 the rule. Good night, dear


Octa. Good night, sir.

Cas. Good night.

[Exeunt Cæsar and Octavia. Ant. Now, sirrah! you do wish yourself in Egypt? Sooth. Would I had never come from thence, nor



Ant. If you can, your reason?

I see't in

My motion, have it not in my tongue: But yet
Hie you again to Egypt.


Say to me,

Whose fortunes shall rise higher, Cæsar's, or mine?

Sooth. Cæsar's.

Therefore, O Antony, stay not by his side:

Thy dæmon, that's thy spirit which keeps thee, is Noble, courageous, high, unmatchable,

Where Cæsar is not; but near him, thy angel

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Becomes a Fear, as being o'erpower'd; therefore
Make space enough between you.


Speak this no more.

Sooth. To none but thee; no more, but when to


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.


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 nought; and his quails* ever
Beat mine, inhoop'd t, at odds. I will to Egypt:
And though I make this marriage for my peace,

Enter Ventidius.

I' the east my pleasure lies:-O, come, Ventidius, You must to Parthia; your commission's ready: Follow me, and receive it.


* The ancients used to match quails as we match cocks

↑ Inclosed.


The same. A street.

Enter Lepidus, Mæcenas, and Agrippa.

Lep. Trouble yourselves no further: pray you,


Your generals after.


Sir, Mark Antony

Will e'en but kiss Octavia, and we'll follow.

Lep. Till I shall see you in your soldier's dress, Which will become you both, farewell.


As I conceive the journey, be at mount

Before you, Lepidus.


We shall,

Your way is shorter,

Sir, good success!


My purposes do draw me much about;

You'll win two days upon me.

Mac. Agr.

Lep. Farewell.


Alexandria. A room in the palace.

Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas.

Cleo. Give me some musick; musick, moodyt

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Enter Mardian.

Cleo. Let it alone; let us to billiards:

Come, Charmian.

Char. My arm is sore, best play with Mardian. Cleo. As well a woman with an eunuch play'd, As with a woman;-Come, you'll play with me, sir? Mar. As well as I can, madam.

Cleo. And when good will is show'd, though it come too short,

The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now:-
Give me mine angle,-We'll to the river: there,
My musick playing far off, I will betray
Tawny-finn'd 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.


'Twas merry, when

You wager'd on your angling; when your diver
Did hang a salt-fish on his hook, which he
With fervency drew up.


That time!-O times!I laugh'd him out of patience; and that night I laugh'd 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. O! from Italy;

Enter a Messenger.

Ram thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears,
That long time have been barren.


Cleo. Antony's dead?

Madam, madam,

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 lipp'd, and trembled kissing.


First, madam, he's well. Cleo. 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.

Mess. Good madam, hear me.

Well, go to, I will;
But there's no goodness in thy face: If Antony
Be free, and healthful,-why so tart a favour*
To trumpet such good tidings? If not well,
Thou should'st come like a fury crown'd with snakes,
Not like a formal mant.


Will't please you hear me? Cleo. I have a mind to strike thee, ere thou speak'st: Yet, if thou say, Antony lives, is well,

Or friends with Cæsar, or not captive to him,

I'll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail

Rich pearls upon thee.



Madam, he's well.

Well said.

Thou'rt an honest man.

Mess. And friends with Cæsar.


Mess. Cæsar and he are greater friends than ever. Cleo. Make thee a fortune from me.


But yet, madam,

Cleo. I do not like but yet, it does allay

The good precedence‡; fye upon but yet:
But yet is as a gaoler to bring forth

Some monstrous malefactor. Pr'ythee, friend,
Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear,

The good and bad together: He's friend with Cæsar;
In state of health, thou say'st; and, thou say'st, free.
Mess. Free, madam! no; I made no such report:
He's bound unto Octavia.

So sour a countenance.
A man in his senses.


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