An Antechamber in Cæsar's House.

Enter AGRIPPA and ENOBARBUS, meeting. Agr. What, are the brothers parted ?

Eno. They have despatched with Pompey; he is gone;
The other three are sealing. Octavia weeps
To part from Rome.

from Rome. Cæsar is sad ; and Lepidus,
Since Pompey's feast, as Menas says, is troubled
With the green-sickness.

'Tis a noble Lepidus. Eno. A very fine one.

fine one. O, how he loves Cæsar! Agr. Nay, but how dearly he adores Mark Antony! Eno. Cæsar ? why, he's the Jupiter of men. Agr. What's Antony ? the god of Jupiter. Eno. Spake you of Cæsar ? How? the nonpareil ! Agr. O Antony! O thou Arabian bird !1

Eno. Would you praise Cæsar, say,-Cæsar; go no further. Agr. Indeed, he plied them both with excellent

praises. Eno. But he loves Cæsar best ;—yet he loves

Antony. Ho! hearts, tongues, figures, scribes, bards, poets,


Think, speak, cast, write, sing, number, ho, his love
To Antony. But as for Cæsar,
Kneel down, kneel down, and wonder.

Both he loves. Eno. They are his shards, and he their beetle. So,

[Trumpets. This is to horse.—Adieu, noble Agrippa.

Agr. Good fortune, worthy soldier; and farewell.

1 The phenix.

2 This puerile arrangement of words was much affected in the age of Shakspeare, even by the first writers.

3 i. e. they are the wings that raise this heavy, lumpish insect from the ground.


Ant. No further, sir.

Ces. You take from me a great part of myself;
Use me well in it.-Sister, prove such a wife
As my thoughts make thee, and as my furthest band
Shall pass on thy approof.—Most noble Antony,
Let not the piece of virtue, which is set
Betwixt us, as the cement of our love,
To keep it builded, be the ram, to batter
The fortress of it; for better might we
Have loved without this mean, if on both parts
This be not cherished.

Make me not offended
In your distrust.

I have said.

You shall not find,
Though you be therein curious, the least cause
For what you seem to fear. So, the gods keep you,
And make the hearts of Romans serve your ends!
We will here part.

Cæs. Farewell, my dearest sister, fare thee well. The elements be kind to thee, and make Thy spirits all of comfort! fare thee well.

Octa. My noble brother !

Ant. The April's in her eyes; it is love's spring, And these the showers to bring it on.-Be cheerful. .

Octa. Sir, look well to my husband's house; and

Ces. Octavia ?

Octa. I'll tell you in your ear.

Ant. Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can Her heart inform her tongue; the swan's down

That stands upon the swell at full of tide,
And neither way inclines.
Eno. Will Cæsar weep?

[Aside to AGRIPPA.

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1 Band and bond were once synonymous. 2 i. e. scrupulous, particular.

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He has a cloud in's face. Eno. He were the worse for that, were he a horse ; So is he being a man. Agr.

Why, Enobarbus ? When Antony found Julius Cæsar dead, He cried almost to roaring; and he wept When at Philippi he found Brutus slain. Eno. That year, indeed, he was troubled with a

rheum ;
What willingly he did confound, he wailed,
Believe it, till I weep3 too.

Cæs. No, sweet Octavia,
You shall hear from me still; the time shall not
Outgo my thinking on you.

Come, sir, come;
I'll wrestle with you, in my strength of love.
Look, here I have you ; thus I let you go,
And give you to the gods.

Adieu! be happy!
Lep. Let all the number of the stars give light
To thy fair way!

Farewell, farewell! [Kisses OCTAVIA. Ant.

Farewell ! [Trumpets sound. Exeunt.



A Room in the Palace.

Cleo. Where is the fellow ?

Half afеard to come. Cleo. Go to, go to.-Come hither, sir.

1 A horse is said to have a cloud in his face, when he has a dark-colored spot in his forehead between his eyes. This, being supposed to indicate an ill temper, is of course looked upon as a great blemish.

2. To confound is to consume, to destroy. 3 Theobald reads, “till I wept too.”

Enter a Messenger.

Good majesty,
Herod of Jewry dare not look upon you,
But when you are well pleased.

That Herod's head
I'll have; but how? when Antony is gone
Through whom I might command it.—Come thou near.

Mess. Most gracious majesty,

Didst thou behold Octavia ?

Mess. Ay, dread queen.


Madam, in Rome
I looked her in the face; and saw her led
Between her brother and Mark Antony.

Cleo. Is she as tall as me?

She is not, madam.
Cleo. Didst hear her speak? Is she shrill-tongued

or low?
Mess. Madam, I heard her speak; she is low-voiced.
Cleo. That's not so good; he cannot like her long.
Char. Like her? Isis ! 'tis impossible.
Cleo. I think so, Charmian. Dull of

Dull of tongue, and
dwarfish! -
What majesty is in her gait ? Remember,
If e'er thou look'dst on majesty.

Her motion and her station are as one:
She shows a body rather than a life;
A statue, than a breather.

Is this certain ?
Mess. Or I have no observance.

Three in Egypt
Cannot make better note.

He's very knowing, I do perceive't : There's nothing in her yet; The fellow has good judgment.

She creeps;

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Cleo. Guess at her years, I pr’ythee.

Mess. Madam,
She was a widow.

Widow ?-Charmian, hark.
Mess. And I do think, she's thirty.
Cleo. Bear'st thou her face in mind ? is't long or

Mess. Round even to faultiness.
Cleo. For the most part too, they are foolish that

are so..
Her hair, what color?

Mess. Brown, madam; and her forehead
As low as she would wish it.

There is gold for thee.
Thou must not take my former sharpness ill :-
I will employ thee back again. I find thee
Most fit for business. Go, make thee ready;
Our letters are prepared.

[Exit Messenger Char.

A proper man.
Cleo. Indeed, he is so. I repent me much,
That I so harried him. Why, methinks, by him,
This creature's no such thing.

Nothing, madam.
Cleo. The man hath seen some majesty, and should

Char. Hath he seen majesty ? Isis else defend,
And serving you so long !
Cleo. I have one thing more to ask him yet, good

But 'tis no matter; thou shalt bring him to me
Where I will write. All may be well enough.
Char. I warrant you, madam.


1 This is from the old writers on physiognomy. Thus in Hill's Pleasant History, &c. 1613:-“The head very round, to be forgetful and foolish.

2 To harry is to harass, to worry, to use roughly, to vex, or molest, from the old Norman-French harier, of the same meaning.

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