Part 32

Sol. Mocke not Enobarbus, I tell you true: Best you saf't the bringer Out of the hoast, I must attend mine Office, Or would haue done't my selfe. Your Emperor Continues still a Ioue.

Exit

Enob. I am alone the Villaine of the earth, And feele I am so most. Oh Anthony, Thou Mine of Bounty, how would'st thou haue payed My better seruice, when my turpitude Thou dost so Crowne with Gold. This blowes my hart, If swift thought breake it not: a swifter meane Shall out-strike thought, but thought will doo't. I feele I fight against thee: No I will go seeke Some Ditch, wherein to dye: the foul'st best fits My latter part of life.

Enter.

Alarum, Drummes and Trumpets. Enter Agrippa.

Agrip. Retire, we haue engag'd our selues too farre: Caesar himselfe ha's worke, and our oppression Exceeds what we expected.

Enter.

Alarums. Enter Anthony, and Scarrus wounded.

Scar. O my braue Emperor, this is fought indeed, Had we done so at first, we had drouen them home With clowts about their heads.

Far off.

Ant. Thou bleed'st apace

Scar. I had a wound heere that was like a T, But now 'tis made an H

Ant. They do retyre

Scar. Wee'l beat 'em into Bench-holes, I haue yet Roome for six scotches more

Enter Eros.

Eros. They are beaten Sir, and our aduantage serues For a faire victory

Scar. Let vs score their backes, And snatch 'em vp, as we take Hares behinde, 'Tis sport to maul a Runner

Ant. I will reward thee Once for thy sprightly comfort, and ten-fold For thy good valour. Come thee on

Scar. Ile halt after.

Exeunt.

Alarum. Enter Anthony againe in a March. Scarrus, with others.

Ant. We haue beate him to his Campe: Runne one Before, & let the Queen know of our guests: to morrow Before the Sun shall see's, wee'l spill the blood That ha's to day escap'd. I thanke you all, For doughty handed are you, and haue fought Not as you seru'd the Cause, but as't had beene Each mans like mine: you haue shewne all Hectors. Enter the Citty, clip your Wiues, your Friends, Tell them your feats, whil'st they with ioyfull teares Wash the congealement from your wounds, and kisse The Honour'd-gashes whole. Enter Cleopatra.

Giue me thy hand, To this great Faiery, Ile commend thy acts, Make her thankes blesse thee. Oh thou day o'th' world, Chaine mine arm'd necke, leape thou, Attyre and all Through proofe of Harnesse to my heart, and there Ride on the pants triumphing

Cleo. Lord of Lords. Oh infinite Vertue, comm'st thou smiling from The worlds great snare vncaught

Ant. Mine Nightingale, We haue beate them to their Beds. What Gyrle, though gray Do somthing mingle with our yonger brown, yet ha we A Braine that nourishes our Nerues, and can Get gole for gole of youth. Behold this man, Commend vnto his Lippes thy fauouring hand, Kisse it my Warriour: He hath fought to day, As if a God in hate of Mankinde, had Destroyed in such a shape

Cleo. Ile giue thee Friend An Armour all of Gold: it was a Kings

Ant. He has deseru'd it, were it Carbunkled Like holy Phoebus Carre. Giue me thy hand, Through Alexandria make a iolly March,

Beare our hackt Targets, like the men that owe them. Had our great Pallace the capacity To Campe this hoast, we all would sup together, And drinke Carowses to the next dayes Fate Which promises Royall perill, Trumpetters With brazen dinne blast you the Citties eare, Make mingle with our ratling Tabourines, That heauen and earth may strike their sounds together, Applauding our approach.