Part 28

Ant. Fauours? By Ioue that thunders. What art thou Fellow? Thid. One that but performes The bidding of the fullest man, and worthiest To haue command obey'd

Eno. You will be whipt

Ant. Approch there: ah you Kite. Now Gods & diuels Authority melts from me of late. When I cried hoa, Like Boyes vnto a musse, Kings would start forth, And cry, your will. Haue you no eares? I am Anthony yet. Take hence this Iack, and whip him. Enter a Seruant.

Eno. 'Tis better playing with a Lions whelpe, Then with an old one dying

Ant. Moone and Starres, Whip him: wer't twenty of the greatest Tributaries That do acknowledge Caesar, should I finde them So sawcy with the hand of she heere, what's her name Since she was Cleopatra? Whip him Fellowes, Till like a Boy you see him crindge his face, And whine aloud for mercy. Take him hence

Thid. Marke Anthony

Ant. Tugge him away: being whipt Bring him againe, the Iacke of Caesars shall Beare vs an arrant to him.

Exeunt. with Thidius.

You were halfe blasted ere I knew you: Ha? Haue I my pillow left vnprest in Rome, Forborne the getting of a lawfull Race, And by a Iem of women, to be abus'd By one that lookes on Feeders? Cleo. Good my Lord

Ant. You haue beene a boggeler euer, But when we in our viciousnesse grow hard (Oh misery on't) the wise Gods seele our eyes In our owne filth, drop our cleare iudgements, make vs Adore our errors, laugh at's while we strut To our confusion

Cleo. Oh, is't come to this? Ant. I found you as a Morsell, cold vpon Dead Caesars Trencher: Nay, you were a Fragment Of Gneius Pompeyes, besides what hotter houres Vnregistred in vulgar Fame, you haue Luxuriously pickt out. For I am sure, Though you can guesse what Temperance should be, You know not what it is

Cleo. Wherefore is this? Ant. To let a Fellow that will take rewards, And say, God quit you, be familiar with My play-fellow, your hand; this Kingly Seale, And plighter of high hearts. O that I were Vpon the hill of Basan, to out-roare The horned Heard, for I haue sauage cause, And to proclaime it ciuilly, were like A halter'd necke, which do's the Hangman thanke, For being yare about him. Is he whipt? Enter a Seruant with Thidias.

Ser. Soundly, my Lord

Ant. Cried he? and begg'd a Pardon? Ser. He did aske fauour

Ant. If that thy Father liue, let him repent Thou was't not made his daughter, and be thou sorrie To follow Caesar in his Triumph, since Thou hast bin whipt. For following him, henceforth The white hand of a Lady Feauer thee, Shake thou to looke on't. Get thee backe to Caesar, Tell him thy entertainment: looke thou say He makes me angry with him. For he seemes Proud and disdainfull, harping on what I am, Not what he knew I was. He makes me angry, And at this time most easie 'tis to doo't: When my good Starres, that were my former guides Haue empty left their Orbes, and shot their Fires Into th' Abisme of hell. If he mislike, My speech, and what is done, tell him he has Hiparchus, my enfranched Bondman, whom He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture, As he shall like to quit me. Vrge it thou: Hence with thy stripes, be gone.

Exit Thid.

Cleo. Haue you done yet? Ant. Alacke our Terrene Moone is now Eclipst, And it portends alone the fall of Anthony

Cleo. I must stay his time? Ant. To flatter Caesar, would you mingle eyes With one that tyes his points

Cleo. Not know me yet? Ant. Cold-hearted toward me? Cleo. Ah (Deere) if I be so, From my cold heart let Heauen ingender haile, And poyson it in the sourse, and the first stone Drop in my necke: as it determines so Dissolue my life, the next Caesarian smile, Till by degrees the memory of my wombe, Together with my braue Egyptians all, By the discandering of this pelleted storme, Lye grauelesse, till the Flies and Gnats of Nyle Haue buried them for prey

Ant. I am satisfied: Caesar sets downe in Alexandria, where I will oppose his Fate. Our force by Land, Hath Nobly held, our seuer'd Nauie too Haue knit againe, and Fleete, threatning most Sea-like. Where hast thou bin my heart? Dost thou heare Lady? If from the Field I shall returne once more To kisse these Lips, I will appeare in Blood, I, and my Sword, will earne our Chronicle, There's hope in't yet

Cleo. That's my braue Lord

Ant. I will be trebble-sinewed, hearted, breath'd, And fight maliciously: for when mine houres Were nice and lucky, men did ransome liues Of me for iests: But now, Ile set my teeth, And send to darkenesse all that stop me. Come, Let's haue one other gawdy night: Call to me All my sad Captaines, fill our Bowles once more: Let's mocke the midnight Bell

Cleo. It is my Birth-day, I had thought t'haue held it poore. But since my Lord Is Anthony againe, I will be Cleopatra

Ant. We will yet do well

Cleo. Call all his Noble Captaines to my Lord

Ant. Do so, wee'l speake to them, And to night Ile force The Wine peepe through their scarres. Come on (my Queene) There's sap in't yet. The next time I do fight Ile make death loue me: for I will contend Euen with his pestilent Sythe.

Exeunt.

Eno. Now hee'l out-stare the Lightning, to be furious Is to be frighted out of feare, and in that moode The Doue will pecke the Estridge; and I see still A diminution in our Captaines braine, Restores his heart; when valour prayes in reason, It eates the Sword it fights with: I will seeke Some way to leaue him.