Thou canst compel no more than she entreat:
Thy threats have no more strength than her weak prayers.
Helen, I love thee; by my life, I do:
I swear by that which I will lose for thee,
To prove him false that says I love thee not.

I say I love thee more than he can do.

If thou say so, withdraw, and prove it too.

Quick, come!

Lysander, whereto tends all this?

Away, you Ethiope!

No, no; he'll [ ]
Seem to break loose; take on as you would follow,
But yet come not: you are a tame man, go!

Hang off, thou cat, thou burr! vile thing, let loose,
Or I will shake thee from me like a serpent!

Why are you grown so rude? what change is this?
Sweet love,--

Thy love! out, tawny Tartar, out!
Out, loathed medicine! hated potion, hence!

Do you not jest?

Yes, sooth; and so do you.

Demetrius, I will keep my word with thee.

I would I had your bond, for I perceive
A weak bond holds you: I'll not trust your word.

What, should I hurt her, strike her, kill her dead?
Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so.

What, can you do me greater harm than hate?
Hate me! wherefore? O me! what news, my love!
Am not I Hermia? are not you Lysander?
I am as fair now as I was erewhile.
Since night you loved me; yet since night you left
me:
Why, then you left me--O, the gods forbid!--
In earnest, shall I say?

Ay, by my life;
And never did desire to see thee more.
Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt;
Be certain, nothing truer; 'tis no jest
That I do hate thee and love Helena.

O me! you juggler! you canker-blossom!
You thief of love! what, have you come by night
And stolen my love's heart from him?

Fine, i'faith!
Have you no modesty, no maiden shame,
No touch of bashfulness? What, will you tear
Impatient answers from my gentle tongue?
Fie, fie! you counterfeit, you puppet, you!

Puppet? why so? ay, that way goes the game.
Now I perceive that she hath made compare
Between our statures; she hath urged her height;
And with her personage, her tall personage,
Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with him.
And are you grown so high in his esteem;
Because I am so dwarfish and so low?
How low am I, thou painted maypole? speak;
How low am I? I am not yet so low
But that my nails can reach unto thine eyes.

I pray you, though you mock me, gentlemen,
Let her not hurt me: I was never curst;
I have no gift at all in shrewishness;
I am a right maid for my cowardice:
Let her not strike me. You perhaps may think,
Because she is something lower than myself,
That I can match her.

Lower! hark, again.

Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with me.
I evermore did love you, Hermia,
Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong'd you;
Save that, in love unto Demetrius,
I told him of your stealth unto this wood.
He follow'd you; for love I follow'd him;
But he hath chid me hence and threaten'd me
To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too:
And now, so you will let me quiet go,
To Athens will I bear my folly back
And follow you no further: let me go:
You see how simple and how fond I am.

Why, get you gone: who is't that hinders you?

A foolish heart, that I leave here behind.

What, with Lysander?

With Demetrius.

Be not afraid; she shall not harm thee, Helena.

No, sir, she shall not, though you take her part.

O, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd!
She was a vixen when she went to school;
And though she be but little, she is fierce.

'Little' again! nothing but 'low' and 'little'!
Why will you suffer her to flout me thus?
Let me come to her.

Get you gone, you dwarf;
You minimus, of hindering knot-grass made;
You bead, you acorn.

You are too officious
In her behalf that scorns your services.
Let her alone: speak not of Helena;
Take not her part; for, if thou dost intend
Never so little show of love to her,
Thou shalt aby it.

Now she holds me not;
Now follow, if thou darest, to try whose right,
Of thine or mine, is most in Helena.

Follow! nay, I'll go with thee, cheek by jole.
Exeunt LYSANDER and DEMETRIUS

You, mistress, all this coil is 'long of you:
Nay, go not back.

I will not trust you, I,
Nor longer stay in your curst company.
Your hands than mine are quicker for a fray,
My legs are longer though, to run away.
Exit

I am amazed, and know not what to say.
Exit

This is thy negligence: still thou mistakest,
Or else committ'st thy knaveries wilfully.

Believe me, king of shadows, I mistook.
Did not you tell me I should know the man
By the Athenian garment be had on?
And so far blameless proves my enterprise,
That I have 'nointed an Athenian's eyes;
And so far am I glad it so did sort
As this their jangling I esteem a sport.

Thou see'st these lovers seek a place to fight:
Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night;
The starry welkin cover thou anon
With drooping fog as black as Acheron,
And lead these testy rivals so astray
As one come not within another's way.
Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue,
Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong;
And sometime rail thou like Demetrius;
And from each other look thou lead them thus,
Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep
With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep:
Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye;
Whose liquor hath this virtuous property,
To take from thence all error with his might,
And make his eyeballs roll with wonted sight.
When they next wake, all this derision
Shall seem a dream and fruitless vision,
And back to Athens shall the lovers wend,
With league whose date till death shall never end.
Whiles I in this affair do thee employ,
I'll to my queen and beg her Indian boy;
And then I will her charmed eye release
From monster's view, and all things shall be peace.

My fairy lord, this must be done with haste,
For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast,
And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger;
At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and there,
Troop home to churchyards: damned spirits all,
That in crossways and floods have burial,
Already to their wormy beds are gone;
For fear lest day should look their shames upon,
They willfully themselves exile from light
And must for aye consort with black-brow'd night.

But we are spirits of another sort:
I with the morning's love have oft made sport,
And, like a forester, the groves may tread,
Even till the eastern gate, all fiery-red,
Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams,
Turns into yellow gold his salt green streams.
But, notwithstanding, haste; make no delay:
We may effect this business yet ere day.
Exit

Up and down, up and down,
I will lead them up and down:
I am fear'd in field and town:
Goblin, lead them up and down.
Here comes one.
Re-enter LYSANDER

Where art thou, proud Demetrius? speak thou now.

Here, villain; drawn and ready. Where art thou?

I will be with thee straight.

Follow me, then,
To plainer ground.
Exit LYSANDER, as following the voice
Re-enter DEMETRIUS

Lysander! speak again:
Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled?
Speak! In some bush? Where dost thou hide thy head?

Thou coward, art thou bragging to the stars,
Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars,
And wilt not come? Come, recreant; come, thou child;
I'll whip thee with a rod: he is defiled
That draws a sword on thee.

Yea, art thou there?

Follow my voice: we'll try no manhood here.
Exeunt
Re-enter LYSANDER

He goes before me and still dares me on:
When I come where he calls, then he is gone.
The villain is much lighter-heel'd than I:
I follow'd fast, but faster he did fly;
That fallen am I in dark uneven way,
And here will rest me.
Lies down
Come, thou gentle day!
For if but once thou show me thy grey light,
I'll find Demetrius and revenge this spite.
Sleeps
Re-enter PUCK and DEMETRIUS

Ho, ho, ho! Coward, why comest thou not?

Abide me, if thou darest; for well I wot
Thou runn'st before me, shifting every place,
And darest not stand, nor look me in the face.
Where art thou now?

Come hither: I am here.

Nay, then, thou mock'st me. Thou shalt buy this dear,
If ever I thy face by daylight see:
Now, go thy way. Faintness constraineth me
To measure out my length on this cold bed.
By day's approach look to be visited.
Lies down and sleeps
Re-enter HELENA

O weary night, O long and tedious night,
Abate thy hour! Shine comforts from the east,
That I may back to Athens by daylight,
From these that my poor company detest:
And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye,
Steal me awhile from mine own company.
Lies down and sleeps

Yet but three? Come one more;
Two of both kinds make up four.
Here she comes, curst and sad:
Cupid is a knavish lad,
Thus to make poor females mad.
Re-enter HERMIA

Never so weary, never so in woe,
Bedabbled with the dew and torn with briers,
I can no further crawl, no further go;
My legs can keep no pace with my desires.
Here will I rest me till the break of day.
Heavens shield Lysander, if they mean a fray!
Lies down and sleeps

On the ground
Sleep sound:
I'll apply
To your eye,
Gentle lover, remedy.
Squeezing the juice on LYSANDER's eyes
When thou wakest,
Thou takest
True delight
In the sight
Of thy former lady's eye:
And the country proverb known,
That every man should take his own,
In your waking shall be shown:
Jack shall have Jill;
Nought shall go ill;
The man shall have his mare again, and all shall be well.
Exit

lying asleep.
Enter TITANIA and BOTTOM; PEASEBLOSSOM, COB***, MOTH, MUSTARDSEED, and other Fairies attending; OBERON behind unseen

Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed,
While I thy amiable cheeks do coy,
And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head,
And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy.

Where's Peaseblossom?

Ready.

Scratch my head Peaseblossom. Where's Mounsieur Cob***?

Ready.

Mounsieur Cob***, good mounsieur, get you your
weapons in your hand, and kill me a red-hipped
humble-bee on the top of a thistle; and, good
mounsieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret
yourself too much in the action, mounsieur; and,
good mounsieur, have a care the honey-bag break not;
I would be loath to have you overflown with a
honey-bag, signior. Where's Mounsieur Mustardseed?

Ready.

Give me your neaf, Mounsieur Mustardseed. Pray you,
leave your courtesy, good mounsieur.

What's your Will?

Nothing, good mounsieur, but to help Cavalery Cob***
to scratch. I must to the barber's, monsieur; for
methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face; and I
am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me,
I must scratch.

What, wilt thou hear some music,
my sweet love?

I have a reasonable good ear in music. Let's have
the tongs and the bones.

Or say, sweet love, what thou desirest to eat.

Truly, a peck of provender: I could munch your good
dry oats. Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle
of hay: good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.

I have a venturous fairy that shall seek
The squirrel's hoard, and fetch thee new nuts.

I had rather have a handful or two of dried peas.
But, I pray you, let none of your people stir me: I
have an exposition of sleep come upon me.

Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms.
Fairies, begone, and be all ways away.
Exeunt fairies
So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle
Gently entwist; the female ivy so
Enrings the barky fingers of the elm.
O, how I love thee! how I dote on thee!
They sleep
Enter PUCK

[Advancing] Welcome, good Robin.
See'st thou this sweet sight?
Her dotage now I do begin to pity:
For, meeting her of late behind the wood,
Seeking sweet favours from this hateful fool,
I did upbraid her and fall out with her;
For she his hairy temples then had rounded
With a coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers;
And that same dew, which sometime on the buds
Was wont to swell like round and orient pearls,
Stood now within the pretty flowerets' eyes
Like tears that did their own disgrace bewail.
When I had at my pleasure taunted her
And she in mild terms begg'd my patience,
I then did ask of her her changeling child;
Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent
To bear him to my bower in fairy land.
And now I have the boy, I will undo
This hateful imperfection of her eyes:
And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp
From off the head of this Athenian swain;
That, he awaking when the other do,
May all to Athens back again repair
And think no more of this night's accidents
But as the fierce vexation of a dream.
But first I will release the fairy queen.
Be as thou wast wont to be;
See as thou wast wont to see:
Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower
Hath such force and blessed power.
Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen.

My Oberon! what visions have I seen!
Methought I was enamour'd of an ass.

There lies your love.

How came these things to pass?
O, how mine eyes do loathe his visage now!

Silence awhile. Robin, take off this head.
Titania, music call; and strike more dead
Than common sleep of all these five the sense.

Music, ho! music, such as charmeth sleep!
Music, still

Now, when thou wakest, with thine
own fool's eyes peep.

Sound, music! Come, my queen, take hands with me,
And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be.
Now thou and I are new in amity,
And will to-morrow midnight solemnly
Dance in Duke Theseus' house triumphantly,
And bless it to all fair prosperity:
There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be
Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity.

Fairy king, attend, and mark:
I do hear the morning lark.

Then, my queen, in silence sad,
Trip we after the night's shade:
We the globe can compass soon,
Swifter than the wandering moon.

Come, my lord, and in our flight
Tell me how it came this night
That I sleeping here was found
With these mortals on the ground.
Exeunt
Horns winded within
Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, EGEUS, and train

Go, one of you, find out the forester;
For now our observation is perform'd;
And since we have the vaward of the day,
My love shall hear the music of my hounds.
Uncouple in the western valley; let them go:
Dispatch, I say, and find the forester.
Exit an Attendant
We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top,
And mark the musical confusion
Of hounds and echo in conjunction.

I was with Hercules and Cadmus once,
When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear
With hounds of Sparta: never did I hear
Such gallant chiding: for, besides the groves,
The skies, the fountains, every region near
Seem'd all one mutual cry: I never heard
So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.

My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,
So flew'd, so sanded, and their heads are hung
With ears that sweep away the morning dew;
Crook-knee'd, and dew-lapp'd like Thessalian bulls;
Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells,
Each under each. A cry more tuneable
Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn,
In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly:
Judge when you hear. But, soft! what nymphs are these?

My lord, this is my daughter here asleep;
And this, Lysander; this Demetrius is;
This Helena, old Nedar's Helena:
I wonder of their being here together.

No doubt they rose up early to observe
The rite of May, and hearing our intent,
Came here in grace our solemnity.
But speak, Egeus; is not this the day
That Hermia should give answer of her choice?

It is, my lord.

Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns.
Horns and shout within. LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HELENA, and HERMIA wake and start up
Good morrow, friends. Saint Valentine is past:
Begin these wood-birds but to couple now?

Pardon, my lord.

I pray you all, stand up.
I know you two are rival enemies:
How comes this gentle concord in the world,
That hatred is so far from jealousy,
To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity?

My lord, I shall reply amazedly,
Half sleep, half waking: but as yet, I swear,
I cannot truly say how I came here;
But, as I think,--for truly would I speak,
And now do I bethink me, so it is,--
I came with Hermia hither: our intent
Was to be gone from Athens, where we might,
Without the peril of the Athenian law.

Enough, enough, my lord; you have enough:
I beg the law, the law, upon his head.
They would have stolen away; they would, Demetrius,
Thereby to have defeated you and me,
You of your wife and me of my consent,
Of my consent that she should be your wife.

My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth,
Of this their purpose hither to this wood;
And I in fury hither follow'd them,
Fair Helena in fancy following me.
But, my good lord, I wot not by what power,--
But by some power it is,--my love to Hermia,
Melted as the snow, seems to me now
As the remembrance of an idle gaud
Which in my childhood I did dote upon;
And all the faith, the virtue of my heart,
The object and the pleasure of mine eye,
Is only Helena. To her, my lord,
Was I betroth'd ere I saw Hermia:
But, like in sickness, did I loathe this food;
But, as in health, come to my natural taste,
Now I do wish it, love it, long for it,
And will for evermore be true to it.

Fair lovers, you are fortunately met:
Of this discourse we more will hear anon.
Egeus, I will overbear your will;
For in the temple by and by with us
These couples shall eternally be knit:
And, for the morning now is something worn,
Our purposed hunting shall be set aside.
Away with us to Athens; three and three,
We'll hold a feast in great solemnity.
Come, Hippolyta.
Exeunt THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, EGEUS, and train

These things seem small and undistinguishable,

Methinks I see these things with parted eye,
When every thing seems double.

So methinks:
And I have found Demetrius like a jewel,
Mine own, and not mine own.

Are you sure
That we are awake? It seems to me
That yet we sleep, we dream. Do not you think
The duke was here, and bid us follow him?

Yea; and my father.

And Hippolyta.

And he did bid us follow to the temple.

Why, then, we are awake: let's follow him
And by the way let us recount our dreams.
Exeunt

[Awaking] When my cue comes, call me, and I will
answer: my next is, 'Most fair Pyramus.' Heigh-ho!
Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! Snout,
the tinker! Starveling! God's my life, stolen
hence, and left me asleep! I have had a most rare
vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to
say what dream it was: man is but an ass, if he go
about to expound this dream. Methought I was--there
is no man can tell what. Methought I was,--and
methought I had,--but man is but a patched fool, if
he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye
of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not
seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue
to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream
was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of
this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream,
because it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the
latter end of a play, before the duke:
peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall
sing it at her death.
Exit

Enter QUINCE, FLUTE, SNOUT, and STARVELING

Have you sent to Bottom's house ? is he come home yet?

He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt he is
transported.

If he come not, then the play is marred: it goes
not forward, doth it?

It is not possible: you have not a man in all
Athens able to discharge Pyramus but he.

No, he hath simply the best wit of any handicraft
man in Athens.

Yea and the best person too; and he is a very
paramour for a sweet voice.

You must say 'paragon:' a paramour is, God bless us,
a thing of naught.
Enter SNUG

Masters, the duke is coming from the temple, and
there is two or three lords and ladies more married:
if our sport had gone forward, we had all been made
men.

O sweet bully Bottom! Thus hath he lost sixpence a
day during his life; he could not have 'scaped
sixpence a day: an the duke had not given him
sixpence a day for playing Pyramus, I'll be hanged;
he would have deserved it: sixpence a day in
Pyramus, or nothing.
Enter BOTTOM

Where are these lads? where are these hearts?

Bottom! O most courageous day! O most happy hour!

Masters, I am to discourse wonders: but ask me not
what; for if I tell you, I am no true Athenian. I
will tell you every thing, right as it fell out.

Let us hear, sweet Bottom.

Not a word of me. All that I will tell you is, that
the duke hath dined. Get your apparel together,
good strings to your beards, new ribbons to your
pumps; meet presently at the palace; every man look
o'er his part; for the short and the long is, our
play is preferred. In any case, let Thisby have
clean linen; and let not him that plays the lion
pair his nails, for they shall hang out for the
lion's claws. And, most dear actors, eat no onions
nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath; and I
do not doubt but to hear them say, it is a sweet
comedy. No more words: away! go, away!
Exeunt

Enter THESEUS, HIPPOLYTA, PHILOSTRATE, Lords and Attendants

'Tis strange my Theseus, that these
lovers speak of.

More strange than true: I never may believe
These antique fables, nor these fairy toys.
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.
The lunatic, the lover and the poet
Are of imagination all compact:
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold,
That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt:
The poet's eye, in fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.
Such tricks hath strong imagination,
That if it would but apprehend some joy,
It comprehends some bringer of that joy;
Or in the night, imagining some fear,
How easy is a bush supposed a bear!

But all the story of the night told over,
And all their minds transfigured so together,
More witnesseth than fancy's images
And grows to something of great constancy;
But, howsoever, strange and admirable.

Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.
Enter LYSANDER, DEMETRIUS, HERMIA, and HELENA
Joy, gentle friends! joy and fresh days of love
Accompany your hearts!

More than to us
Wait in your royal walks, your board, your bed!

Come now; what masques, what dances shall we have,
To wear away this long age of three hours
Between our after-supper and bed-time?
Where is our usual manager of mirth?
What revels are in hand? Is there no play,
To ease the anguish of a torturing hour?
Call Philostrate.

Here, mighty Theseus.

Say, what abridgement have you for this evening?
What masque? what music? How shall we beguile
The lazy time, if not with some delight?

There is a brief how many sports are ripe:
Make choice of which your highness will see first.
Giving a paper

[Reads] 'The battle with the Centaurs, to be sung
By an Athenian eunuch to the harp.'
We'll none of that: that have I told my love,
In glory of my kinsman Hercules.
Reads
'The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals,
Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.'
That is an old device; and it was play'd
When I from Thebes came last a conqueror.
Reads
'The thrice three Muses mourning for the death
Of Learning, late deceased in beggary.'
That is some satire, keen and critical,
Not sorting with a nuptial ceremony.
Reads
'A tedious brief scene of young Pyramus
And his love Thisbe; very tragical mirth.'
Merry and tragical! tedious and brief!
That is, hot ice and wondrous strange snow.
How shall we find the concord of this discord?

A play there is, my lord, some ten words long,
Which is as brief as I have known a play;
But by ten words, my lord, it is too long,
Which makes it tedious; for in all the play
There is not one word apt, one player fitted:
And tragical, my noble lord, it is;
For Pyramus therein doth kill himself.
Which, when I saw rehearsed, I must confess,
Made mine eyes water; but more merry tears
The passion of loud laughter never shed.

What are they that do play it?

Hard-handed men that work in Athens here,
Which never labour'd in their minds till now,
And now have toil'd their unbreathed memories
With this same play, against your nuptial.

And we will hear it.

No, my noble lord;
It is not for you: I have heard it over,
And it is nothing, nothing in the world;
Unless you can find sport in their intents,
Extremely stretch'd and conn'd with cruel pain,
To do you service.

I will hear that play;
For never anything can be amiss,
When simpleness and duty tender it.
Go, bring them in: and take your places, ladies.
Exit PHILOSTRATE

I love not to see wretchedness o'er charged
And duty in his service perishing.

Why, gentle sweet, you shall see no such thing.

He says they can do nothing in this kind.

The kinder we, to give them thanks for nothing.
Our sport shall be to take what they mistake:
And what poor duty cannot do, noble respect
Takes it in might, not merit.
Where I have come, great clerks have purposed
To greet me with premeditated welcomes;
Where I have seen them shiver and look pale,
Make periods in the midst of sentences,
Throttle their practised accent in their fears
And in conclusion dumbly have broke off,
Not paying me a welcome. Trust me, sweet,
Out of this silence yet I pick'd a welcome;
And in the modesty of fearful duty
I read as much as from the rattling tongue
Of saucy and audacious eloquence.
Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity
In least speak most, to my capacity.
Re-enter PHILOSTRATE

So please your grace, the Prologue is address'd.

Let him approach.
Flourish of trumpets
Enter QUINCE for the Prologue

If we offend, it is with our good will.
That you should think, we come not to offend,
But with good will. To show our simple skill,
That is the true beginning of our end.
Consider then we come but in despite.
We do not come as minding to contest you,
Our true intent is. All for your delight
We are not here. That you should here repent you,
The actors are at hand and by their show
You shall know all that you are like to know.

This fellow doth not stand upon points.

He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt; he knows
not the stop. A good moral, my lord: it is not
enough to speak, but to speak true.

Indeed he hath played on his prologue like a child
on a recorder; a sound, but not in government.

His speech, was like a tangled chain; nothing
impaired, but all disordered. Who is next?
Enter Pyramus and Thisbe, Wall, Moonshine, and Lion

Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show;
But wonder on, till truth make all things plain.
This man is Pyramus, if you would know;
This beauteous lady Thisby is certain.
This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth present
Wall, that vile Wall which did these lovers sunder;
And through Wall's chink, poor souls, they are *******
To whisper. At the which let no man wonder.
This man, with lanthorn, dog, and bush of thorn,
Presenteth Moonshine; for, if you will know,
By moonshine did these lovers think no scorn
To meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo.
This grisly beast, which Lion hight by name,
The trusty Thisby, coming first by night,
Did scare away, or rather did affright;
And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall,
Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain.
Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall,
And finds his trusty Thisby's mantle slain:
Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade,
He bravely broach'd is boiling bloody breast;
And Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade,
His dagger drew, and died. For all the rest,
Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain
At large discourse, while here they do remain.
Exeunt Prologue, Thisbe, Lion, and Moonshine

I wonder if the lion be to speak.

No wonder, my lord: one lion may, when many asses do.

In this same interlude it doth befall
That I, one Snout by name, present a wall;
And such a wall, as I would have you think,
That had in it a crannied hole or chink,
Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby,
Did whisper often very secretly.
This loam, this rough-cast and this stone doth show
That I am that same wall; the truth is so:
And this the cranny is, right and sinister,
Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.

Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?

It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard
discourse, my lord.
Enter Pyramus

Pyramus draws near the wall: silence!

O grim-look'd night! O night with hue so black!
O night, which ever art when day is not!
O night, O night! alack, alack, alack,
I fear my Thisby's promise is forgot!
And thou, O wall, O sweet, O lovely wall,
That stand'st between her father's ground and mine!
Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely wall,
Show me thy chink, to blink through with mine eyne!
Wall holds up his fingers
Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee well for this!
But what see I? No Thisby do I see.
O wicked wall, through whom I see no bliss!
Cursed be thy stones for thus deceiving me!

The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse again.

No, in truth, sir, he should not. 'Deceiving me'
is Thisby's cue: she is to enter now, and I am to
spy her through the wall. You shall see, it will
fall pat as I told you. Yonder she comes.
Enter Thisbe

O wall, full often hast thou heard my moans,
For parting my fair Pyramus and me!
My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones,
Thy stones with lime and hair knit up in thee.

I see a voice: now will I to the chink,
To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face. Thisby!

My love thou art, my love I think.

Think what thou wilt, I am thy lover's grace;
And, like Limander, am I trusty still.

And I like Helen, till the Fates me kill.

Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true.

As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you.

O kiss me through the hole of this vile wall!

I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all.

Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway?

'Tide life, 'tide death, I come without delay.
Exeunt Pyramus and Thisbe

Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so;
And, being done, thus Wall away doth go.
Exit

Now is the mural down between the two neighbours.

No remedy, my lord, when walls are so wilful to hear
without warning.

This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard.

The best in this kind are but shadows; and the worst
are no worse, if imagination amend them.

It must be your imagination then, and not theirs.

If we imagine no worse of them than they of
themselves, they may pass for excellent men. Here
come two noble beasts in, a man and a lion.
Enter Lion and Moonshine

You, ladies, you, whose gentle hearts do fear
The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor,
May now perchance both quake and tremble here,
When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar.
Then know that I, one Snug the joiner, am
A lion-fell, nor else no lion's dam;
For, if I should as lion come in strife
Into this place, 'twere pity on my life.

A very gentle beast, of a good conscience.

The very best at a beast, my lord, that e'er I saw.

This lion is a very fox for his valour.

True; and a goose for his discretion.

Not so, my lord; for his valour cannot carry his
discretion; and the fox carries the goose.

His discretion, I am sure, cannot carry his valour;
for the goose carries not the fox. It is well:
leave it to his discretion, and let us listen to the moon.

This lanthorn doth the horned moon present;--

He should have worn the horns on his head.

He is no crescent, and his horns are
invisible within the circumference.

This lanthorn doth the horned moon present;
Myself the man i' the moon do seem to be.

This is the greatest error of all the rest: the man
should be put into the lanthorn. How is it else the
man i' the moon?

He dares not come there for the candle; for, you
see, it is already in snuff.

I am aweary of this moon: would he would change!

It appears, by his small light of discretion, that
he is in the wane; but yet, in courtesy, in all
reason, we must stay the time.

Proceed, Moon.

All that I have to say, is, to tell you that the
lanthorn is the moon; I, the man in the moon; this
thorn-bush, my thorn-bush; and this dog, my dog.

Why, all these should be in the lanthorn; for all
these are in the moon. But, silence! here comes Thisbe.
Enter Thisbe

This is old Ninny's tomb. Where is my love?

[Roaring] Oh--
Thisbe runs off

Well roared, Lion.

Well run, Thisbe.

Well shone, Moon. Truly, the moon shines with a
good grace.
The Lion shakes Thisbe's mantle, and exit

Well moused, Lion.

And so the lion vanished.

And then came Pyramus.
Enter Pyramus

Sweet Moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams;
I thank thee, Moon, for shining now so bright;
For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering gleams,
I trust to take of truest Thisby sight.
But stay, O spite!
But mark, poor knight,
What dreadful dole is here!
Eyes, do you see?
How can it be?
O dainty duck! O dear!
Thy mantle good,
What, stain'd with blood!
Approach, ye Furies fell!
O Fates, come, come,
Cut thread and thrum;
Quail, crush, conclude, and quell!

This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would
go near to make a man look sad.

Beshrew my heart, but I pity the man.

O wherefore, Nature, didst thou lions frame?
Since lion vile hath here deflower'd my dear:
Which is--no, no--which was the fairest dame
That lived, that loved, that liked, that look'd
with cheer.
Come, tears, confound;
Out, sword, and wound
The pap of Pyramus;
Ay, that left pap,
Where heart doth hop:
Stabs himself
Thus die I, thus, thus, thus.
Now am I dead,
Now am I fled;
My soul is in the sky:
Tongue, lose thy light;
Moon take thy flight:
Exit Moonshine
Now die, die, die, die, die.
Dies

No die, but an ace, for him; for he is but one.

Less than an ace, man; for he is dead; he is nothing.

With the help of a surgeon he might yet recover, and
prove an ass.

How chance Moonshine is gone before Thisbe comes
back and finds her lover?

She will find him by starlight. Here she comes; and
her passion ends the play.
Re-enter Thisbe

Methinks she should not use a long one for such a
Pyramus: I hope she will be brief.

A mote will turn the balance, which Pyramus, which
Thisbe, is the better; he for a man, God warrant us;
she for a woman, God bless us.

She hath spied him already with those sweet eyes.

And thus she means, videlicet:--

Asleep, my love?
What, dead, my dove?
O Pyramus, arise!
Speak, speak. Quite dumb?
Dead, dead? A tomb
Must cover thy sweet eyes.
These My lips,
This cherry nose,
These yellow cowslip cheeks,
Are gone, are gone:
Lovers, make moan:
His eyes were green as leeks.
O Sisters Three,
Come, come to me,
With hands as pale as milk;
Lay them in gore,
Since you have shore
With shears his thread of silk.
Tongue, not a word:
Come, trusty sword;
Come, blade, my breast imbrue:
Stabs herself
And, farewell, friends;
Thus Thisby ends:
Adieu, adieu, adieu.
Dies

Moonshine and Lion are left to bury the dead.

Ay, and Wall too.

[Starting up] No assure you; the wall is down that
parted their fathers. Will it please you to see the
epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask dance between two
of our company?

No epilogue, I pray you; for your play needs no
excuse. Never excuse; for when the players are all
dead, there needs none to be blamed. Marry, if he
that writ it had played Pyramus and hanged himself
in Thisbe's garter, it would have been a fine
tragedy: and so it is, truly; and very notably
discharged. But come, your Bergomask: let your
epilogue alone.
A dance
The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve:
Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time.
I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn
As much as we this night have overwatch'd.
This palpable-gross play hath well beguiled
The heavy gait of night. Sweet friends, to bed.
A fortnight hold we this solemnity,
In nightly revels and new jollity.
Exeunt
Enter PUCK

Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
All with weary task fordone.
Now the wasted brands do glow,
Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe
In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night
That the graves all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite,
In the church-way paths to glide:
And we fairies, that do run
By the triple Hecate's team,
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic: not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallow'd house:
I am sent with broom before,
To sweep the dust behind the door.
Enter OBERON and TITANIA with their train

Through the house give gathering light,
By the dead and drowsy fire:
Every elf and fairy sprite
Hop as light as bird from brier;
And this ditty, after me,
Sing, and dance it trippingly.

First, rehearse your song by rote
To each word a warbling note:
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
Will we sing, and bless this place.
Song and dance

Now, until the break of day,
Through this house each fairy stray.
To the best bride-bed will we,
Which by us shall blessed be;
And the issue there create
Ever shall be fortunate.
So shall all the couples three
Ever true in loving be;
And the blots of Nature's hand
Shall not in their issue stand;
Never mole, hare lip, nor scar,
Nor mark prodigious, such as are
Despised in nativity,
Shall upon their children be.
With this field-dew consecrate,
Every fairy take his gait;
And each several chamber bless,
Through this palace, with sweet peace;
And the owner of it blest
Ever shall in safety rest.
Trip away; make no stay;
Meet me all by break of day.
Exeunt OBERON, TITANIA, and train

If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
if you pardon, we will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.

Enter DEMETRIUS and PHILO

Nay, but this dotage of our general's
O'erflows the measure: those his goodly eyes,
That o'er the files and musters of the war
Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now turn,
The office and devotion of their view
Upon a tawny front: his captain's heart,
Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst
The buckles on his breast, reneges all temper,
And is become the bellows and the fan
To cool a gipsy's lust.
Flourish. Enter ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, her Ladies, the Train, with Eunuchs fanning her
Look, where they come:
Take but good note, and you shall see in him.
The triple pillar of the world transform'd
Into a strumpet's fool: behold and see.

If it be love indeed, tell me how much.

There's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd.

I'll set a bourn how far to be beloved.

Then must thou needs find out new heaven, new earth.
Enter an Attendant

News, my good lord, from Rome.

Grates me: the sum.

Nay, hear them, Antony:
Fulvia perchance is angry; or, who knows
If the scarce-bearded Caesar have not sent
His powerful mandate to you, 'Do this, or this;
Take in that kingdom, and enfranchise that;
Perform 't, or else we damn thee.'

How, my love!

Perchance! nay, and most like:
You must not stay here longer, your dismission
Is come from Caesar; therefore hear it, Antony.
Where's Fulvia's process? Caesar's I would say? both?
Call in the messengers. As I am Egypt's queen,
Thou blushest, Antony; and that blood of thine
Is Caesar's homager: else so thy cheek pays shame
When shrill-tongued Fulvia scolds. The messengers!

Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch
Of the ranged empire fall! Here is my space.
Kingdoms are clay: our dungy earth alike
Feeds beast as man: the nobleness of life
Is to do thus; when such a mutual pair
Embracing
And such a twain can do't, in which I bind,
On pain of punishment, the world to weet
We stand up peerless.

Excellent falsehood!
Why did he marry Fulvia, and not love her?
I'll seem the fool I am not; Antony
Will be himself.

But stirr'd by Cleopatra.
Now, for the love of Love and her soft hours,
Let's not confound the time with conference harsh:
There's not a minute of our lives should stretch
Without some pleasure now. What sport tonight?

Hear the ambassadors.

Fie, wrangling queen!
Whom every thing becomes, to chide, to laugh,
To weep; whose every passion fully strives
To make itself, in thee, fair and admired!
No messenger, but thine; and all alone
To-night we'll wander through the streets and note
The qualities of people. Come, my queen;
Last night you did desire it: speak not to us.
Exeunt MARK ANTONY and CLEOPATRA with their train

Is Caesar with Antonius prized so slight?

Sir, sometimes, when he is not Antony,
He comes too short of that great property
Which still should go with Antony.

I am full sorry
That he approves the common liar, who
Thus speaks of him at Rome: but I will hope
Of better deeds to-morrow. Rest you happy!
Exeunt

Enter CHARMIAN, IRAS, ALEXAS, and a Soothsayer

Lord Alexas, sweet Alexas, most any thing Alexas,
almost most absolute Alexas, where's the soothsayer
that you praised so to the queen? O, that I knew
this husband, which, you say, must charge his horns
with garlands!

Soothsayer!

Your will?

Is this the man? Is't you, sir, that know things?

In nature's infinite book of secrecy
A little I can read.

Show him your hand.
Enter DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS

Bring in the banquet quickly; wine enough
Cleopatra's health to drink.

Good sir, give me good fortune.

I make not, but foresee.

Pray, then, foresee me one.

You shall be yet far fairer than you are.

He means in flesh.

No, you shall paint when you are old.

Wrinkles forbid!

Vex not his prescience; be attentive.

Hush!

You shall be more beloving than beloved.

I had rather heat my liver with drinking.

Nay, hear him.

Good now, some excellent fortune! Let me be married
to three kings in a forenoon, and widow them all:
let me have a child at fifty, to whom Herod of Jewry
may do homage: find me to marry me with Octavius
Caesar, and companion me with my mistress.

You shall outlive the lady whom you serve.

O excellent! I love long life better than figs.

You have seen and proved a fairer former fortune
Than that which is to approach.

Then belike my children shall have no names:
prithee, how many boys and wenches must I have?

If every of your wishes had a womb.
And fertile every wish, a million.

Out, fool! I forgive thee for a witch.

You think none but your sheets are privy to your wishes.

Nay, come, tell Iras hers.

We'll know all our fortunes.

Mine, and most of our fortunes, to-night, shall
be--drunk to bed.

There's a palm presages chastity, if nothing else.

E'en as the o'erflowing Nilus presageth famine.

Go, you wild bedfellow, you cannot soothsay.

Nay, if an oily palm be not a fruitful
prognostication, I cannot scratch mine ear. Prithee,
tell her but a worky-day fortune.

Your fortunes are alike.

But how, but how? give me particulars.

I have said.

Am I not an inch of fortune better than she?

Well, if you were but an inch of fortune better than
I, where would you choose it?

Not in my husband's nose.

Our worser thoughts heavens mend! Alexas,--come,
his fortune, his fortune! O, let him marry a woman
that cannot go, sweet Isis, I beseech thee! and let
her die too, and give him a worse! and let worst
follow worse, till the worst of all follow him
laughing to his grave, fifty-fold a cuckold! Good
Isis, hear me this prayer, though thou deny me a
matter of more weight; good Isis, I beseech thee!

Amen. Dear goddess, hear that prayer of the people!
for, as it is a heartbreaking to see a handsome man
loose-wived, so it is a deadly sorrow to behold a
foul knave uncuckolded: therefore, dear Isis, keep
decorum, and fortune him accordingly!

Amen.

Lo, now, if it lay in their hands to make me a
cuckold, they would make themselves whores, but
they'ld do't!

Hush! here comes Antony.

Not he; the queen.
Enter CLEOPATRA

Saw you my lord?

No, lady.

Was he not here?

No, madam.

He was disposed to mirth; but on the sudden
A Roman thought hath struck him. Enobarbus!

Madam?

Seek him, and bring him hither.
Where's Alexas?

Here, at your service. My lord approaches.

We will not look upon him: go with us.
Exeunt

Enter MARK ANTONY with a Messenger and Attendants

Fulvia thy wife first came into the field.

Against my brother Lucius?

Ay:
But soon that war had end, and the time's state
Made friends of them, joining their force 'gainst Caesar;
Whose better issue in the war, from Italy,
Upon the first encounter, drave them.

Well, what worst?

The nature of bad news infects the teller.

When it concerns the fool or coward. On:
Things that are past are done with me. 'Tis thus:
Who tells me true, though in his tale lie death,
I hear him as he flatter'd.

Labienus--
This is stiff news--hath, with his Parthian force,
Extended Asia from Euphrates;
His conquering banner shook from Syria
To Lydia and to Ionia; Whilst--

Antony, thou wouldst say,--

O, my lord!

Speak to me home, mince not the general tongue:
Name Cleopatra as she is call'd in Rome;
Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase; and taunt my faults
With such full licence as both truth and malice
Have power to utter. O, then we bring forth weeds,
When our quick minds lie still; and our ills told us
Is as our earing. Fare thee well awhile.

At your noble pleasure.
Exit

From Sicyon, ho, the news! Speak there!

The man from Sicyon,--is there such an one?

He stays upon your will.

Let him appear.
These strong Egyptian fetters I must break,
Or lose myself in dotage.
Enter another Messenger
What are you?

Fulvia thy wife is dead.

Where died she?

In Sicyon:
Her length of sickness, with what else more serious
Importeth thee to know, this bears.
Gives a letter

Forbear me.
Exit Second Messenger
There's a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it:
What our contempt doth often hurl from us,
We wish it ours again; the present pleasure,
By revolution lowering, does become
The opposite of itself: she's good, being gone;
The hand could pluck her back that shoved her on.
I must from this enchanting queen break off:
Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know,
My idleness doth hatch. How now! Enobarbus!
Re-enter DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS

What's your pleasure, sir?

I must with haste from hence.

Why, then, we kill all our women:
we see how mortal an unkindness is to them;
if they suffer our departure, death's the word.

I must be gone.

Under a compelling occasion, let women die; it were
pity to cast them away for nothing; though, between
them and a great cause, they should be esteemed
nothing. Cleopatra, catching but the least noise of
this, dies instantly; I have seen her die twenty
times upon far poorer moment: I do think there is
mettle in death, which commits some loving act upon
her, she hath such a celerity in dying.

She is cunning past man's thought.
Exit ALEXAS

Alack, sir, no; her passions are made of nothing but
the finest part of pure love: we cannot call her
winds and waters sighs and tears; they are greater
storms and tempests than almanacs can report: this
cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a
shower of rain as well as Jove.

Would I had never seen her.

O, sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece
of work; which not to have been blest withal would
have discredited your travel.

Fulvia is dead.

Sir?

Fulvia is dead.

Fulvia!

Dead.

Why, sir, give the gods a thankful sacrifice. When
it pleaseth their deities to take the wife of a man
from him, it shows to man the tailors of the earth;
comforting therein, that when old robes are worn
out, there are members to make new. If there were
no more women but Fulvia, then had you indeed a cut,
and the case to be lamented: this grief is crowned
with consolation; your old smock brings forth a new
petticoat: and indeed the tears live in an onion
that should water this sorrow.

The business she hath broached in the state
Cannot endure my absence.

And the business you have broached here cannot be
without you; especially that of Cleopatra's, which
wholly depends on your abode.

No more light answers. Let our officers
Have notice what we purpose. I shall break
The cause of our expedience to the queen,
And get her leave to part. For not alone
The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches,
Do strongly speak to us; but the letters too
Of many our contriving friends in Rome
Petition us at home: Sextus Pompeius
Hath given the dare to Caesar, and commands
The empire of the sea: our slippery people,
Whose love is never link'd to the deserver
Till his deserts are past, begin to throw
Pompey the Great and all his dignities
Upon his son; who, high in name and power,
Higher than both in blood and life, stands up
For the main soldier: whose quality, going on,
The sides o' the world may danger: much is breeding,
Which, like the courser's hair, hath yet but life,
And not a serpent's poison. Say, our pleasure,
To such whose place is under us, requires
Our quick remove from hence.

I shall do't.
Exeunt

Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS

Where is he?

I did not see him since.

See where he is, who's with him, what he does:
I did not send you: if you find him sad,
Say I am dancing; if in mirth, report
That I am sudden sick: quick, and return.
Exit ALEXAS

Madam, methinks, if you did love him dearly,
You do not hold the method to enforce
The like from him.

What should I do, I do not?

In each thing give him way, cross him nothing.

Thou teachest like a fool; the way to lose him.

Tempt him not so too far; I wish, forbear:
In time we hate that which we often fear.
But here comes Antony.
Enter MARK ANTONY

I am sick and sullen.

I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose,--

Help me away, dear Charmian; I shall fall:
It cannot be thus long, the sides of nature
Will not sustain it.

Now, my dearest queen,--

Pray you, stand further from me.

What's the matter?

I know, by that same eye, there's some good news.
What says the married woman? You may go:
Would she had never given you leave to come!
Let her not say 'tis I that keep you here:
I have no power upon you; hers you are.

The gods best know,--

O, never was there queen
So mightily betray'd! yet at the first
I saw the treasons planted.

Cleopatra,--

Why should I think you can be mine and true,
Though you in swearing shake the throned gods,
Who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous madness,
To be entangled with those mouth-made vows,
Which break themselves in swearing!

Most sweet queen,--

Nay, pray you, seek no colour for your going,
But bid farewell, and go: when you sued staying,
Then was the time for words: no going then;
Eternity was in our lips and eyes,
Bliss in our brows' bent; none our parts so poor,
But was a race of heaven: they are so still,
Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world,
Art turn'd the greatest liar.

How now, lady!

I would I had thy inches; thou shouldst know
There were a heart in Egypt.

Hear me, queen:
The strong necessity of time commands
Our services awhile; but my full heart
Remains in use with you. Our Italy
Shines o'er with civil swords: Sextus Pompeius
Makes his approaches to the port of Rome:
Equality of two domestic powers
Breed scrupulous faction: the hated, grown to strength,
Are newly grown to love: the condemn'd Pompey,
Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace,
Into the hearts of such as have not thrived
Upon the present state, whose numbers threaten;
And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge
By any desperate change: my more particular,
And that which most with you should safe my going,
Is Fulvia's death.

Though age from folly could not give me freedom,
It does from childishness: can Fulvia die?

She's dead, my queen:
Look here, and at thy sovereign leisure read
The garboils she awaked; at the last, best:
See when and where she died.

O most false love!
Where be the sacred vials thou shouldst fill
With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see,
In Fulvia's death, how mine received shall be.

Quarrel no more, but be prepared to know
The purposes I bear; which are, or cease,
As you shall give the advice. By the fire
That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence
Thy soldier, servant; making peace or war
As thou affect'st.

Cut my lace, Charmian, come;
But let it be: I am quickly ill, and well,
So Antony loves.

My precious queen, forbear;
And give true evidence to his love, which stands
An honourable trial.

So Fulvia told me.
I prithee, turn aside and weep for her,
Then bid adieu to me, and say the tears
Belong to Egypt: good now, play one scene
Of excellent dissembling; and let it look
Life perfect honour.

You'll heat my blood: no more.

You can do better yet; but this is meetly.

Now, by my sword,--

And target. Still he mends;
But this is not the best. Look, prithee, Charmian,
How this Herculean Roman does become
The carriage of his chafe.

I'll leave you, lady.

Courteous lord, one word.
Sir, you and I must part, but that's not it:
Sir, you and I have loved, but there's not it;
That you know well: something it is I would,
O, my oblivion is a very Antony,
And I am all forgotten.

But that your royalty
Holds idleness your subject, I should take you
For idleness itself.

'Tis sweating labour
To bear such idleness so near the heart
As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me;
Since my becomings kill me, when they do not
Eye well to you: your honour calls you hence;
Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly.
And all the gods go with you! upon your sword
Sit laurel victory! and smooth success
Be strew'd before your feet!

Let us go. Come;
Our separation so abides, and flies,
That thou, residing here, go'st yet with me,
And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee. Away!
Exeunt

Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, reading a letter, LEPIDUS, and their Train

You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know,
It is not Caesar's natural vice to hate
Our great competitor: from Alexandria
This is the news: he fishes, drinks, and wastes
The lamps of night in revel; is not more man-like
Than Cleopatra; nor the queen of Ptolemy
More womanly than he; hardly gave audience, or
Vouchsafed to think he had partners: you shall find there
A man who is the abstract of all faults
That all men follow.

I must not think there are
Evils enow to darken all his goodness:
His faults in him seem as the spots of heaven,
More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary,
Rather than purchased; what he cannot change,
Than what he chooses.

You are too indulgent. Let us grant, it is not
Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy;
To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit
And keep the turn of tippling with a slave;
To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet
With knaves that smell of sweat: say this
becomes him,--
As his composure must be rare indeed
Whom these things cannot blemish,--yet must Antony
No way excuse his soils, when we do bear
So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd
His vacancy with his voluptuousness,
Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones,
Call on him for't: but to confound such time,
That drums him from his sport, and speaks as loud
As his own state and ours,--'tis to be chid
As we rate boys, who, being mature in knowledge,
Pawn their experience to their present pleasure,
And so rebel to judgment.
Enter a Messenger

Here's more news.

Thy biddings have been done; and every hour,
Most noble Caesar, shalt thou have report
How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea;
And it appears he is beloved of those
That only have fear'd Caesar: to the ports
The dis*******s repair, and men's reports
Give him much wrong'd.

I should have known no less.
It hath been taught us from the primal state,
That he which is was wish'd until he were;
And the ebb'd man, ne'er loved till ne'er worth love,
Comes dear'd by being lack'd. This common body,
Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream,
Goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide,
To rot itself with motion.

Caesar, I bring thee word,
Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates,
Make the sea serve them, which they ear and wound
With keels of every kind: many hot inroads
They make in Italy; the borders maritime
Lack blood to think on't, and flush youth revolt:
No vessel can peep forth, but 'tis as soon
Taken as seen; for Pompey's name strikes more
Than could his war resisted.

Antony,
Leave thy lascivious wassails. When thou once
Wast beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st
Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel
Did famine follow; whom thou fought'st against,
Though daintily brought up, with patience more
Than savages could suffer: thou didst drink
The stale of horses, and the gilded puddle
Which beasts would cough at: thy palate then did deign
The roughest berry on the rudest hedge;
Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets,
The barks of trees thou browsed'st; on the Alps
It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh,
Which some did die to look on: and all this--
It wounds thine honour that I speak it now--
Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek
So much as lank'd not.

'Tis pity of him.

Let his shames quickly
Drive him to Rome: 'tis time we twain
Did show ourselves i' the field; and to that end
Assemble we immediate council: Pompey
Thrives in our idleness.

To-morrow, Caesar,
I shall be furnish'd to inform you rightly
Both what by sea and land I can be able
To front this present time.

Till which encounter,
It is my business too. Farewell.

Farewell, my lord: what you shall know meantime
Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir,
To let me be partaker.

Doubt not, sir;
I knew it for my bond.
Exeunt

Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN

Charmian!

Madam?

Ha, ha!
Give me to drink mandragora.

Why, madam?

That I might sleep out this great gap of time
My Antony is away.

You think of him too much.

O, 'tis treason!

Madam, I trust, not so.

Thou, eunuch Mardian!

What's your highness' pleasure?

Not now to hear thee sing; I take no pleasure
In aught an eunuch has: 'tis well for thee,
That, being unseminar'd, thy freer thoughts
May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou affections?

Yes, gracious madam.

Indeed!

Not in deed, madam; for I can do nothing
But what indeed is honest to be done:
Yet have I fierce affections, and think
What Venus did with Mars.

O Charmian,
Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he?
Or does he walk? or is he on his horse?
O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony!
Do bravely, horse! for wot'st thou whom thou movest?
The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm
And burgonet of men. He's speaking now,
Or murmuring 'Where's my serpent of old Nile?'
For so he calls me: now I feed myself
With most delicious poison. Think on me,
That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black,
And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Caesar,
When thou wast here above the ground, I was
A morsel for a monarch: and great Pompey
Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow;
There would he anchor his aspect and die
With looking on his life.
Enter ALEXAS, from OCTAVIUS CAESAR

Sovereign of Egypt, hail!

How much unlike art thou Mark Antony!
Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath
With his tinct gilded thee.
How goes it with my brave Mark Antony?

Last thing he did, dear queen,
He kiss'd,--the last of many doubled kisses,--
This orient pearl. His speech sticks in my heart.

Mine ear must pluck it thence.

'Good friend,' quoth he,
'Say, the firm Roman to great Egypt sends
This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot,
To mend the petty present, I will piece
Her opulent throne with kingdoms; all the east,
Say thou, shall call her mistress.' So he nodded,
And soberly did mount an arm-gaunt steed,
Who neigh'd so high, that what I would have spoke
Was beastly dumb'd by him.

What, was he sad or merry?

Like to the time o' the year between the extremes
Of hot and cold, he was nor sad nor merry.

O well-divided disposition! Note him,
Note him good Charmian, 'tis the man; but note him:
He was not sad, for he would shine on those
That make their looks by his; he was not merry,
Which seem'd to tell them his remembrance lay
In Egypt with his joy; but between both:
O heavenly mingle! Be'st thou sad or merry,
The violence of either thee becomes,
So does it no man else. Met'st thou my posts?

Ay, madam, twenty several messengers:
Why do you send so thick?

Who's born that day
When I forget to send to Antony,
Shall die a beggar. Ink and paper, Charmian.
Welcome, my good Alexas. Did I, Charmian,
Ever love Caesar so?

O that brave Caesar!

Be choked with such another emphasis!
Say, the brave Antony.

The valiant Caesar!

By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth,
If thou with Caesar paragon again
My man of men.

By your most gracious pardon,
I sing but after you.

My salad days,
When I was green in judgment: cold in blood,
To say as I said then! But, come, away;
Get me ink and paper:
He shall have every day a several greeting,
Or I'll unpeople Egypt.
Exeunt

Enter POMPEY, MENECRATES, and MENAS, in warlike manner

If the great gods be just, they shall assist
The deeds of justest men.

Know, worthy Pompey,
That what they do delay, they not deny.

Whiles we are suitors to their throne, decays
The thing we sue for.

We, ignorant of ourselves,
Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers
Deny us for our good; so find we profit
By losing of our prayers.

I shall do well:
The people love me, and the sea is mine;
My powers are crescent, and my auguring hope
Says it will come to the full. Mark Antony
In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make
No wars without doors: Caesar gets money where
He loses hearts: Lepidus flatters both,
Of both is flatter'd; but he neither loves,
Nor either cares for him.

Caesar and Lepidus
Are in the field: a mighty strength they carry.

Where have you this? 'tis false.

From Silvius, sir.

He dreams: I know they are in Rome together,
Looking for Antony. But all the charms of love,
Salt Cleopatra, soften thy waned lip!
Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both!
Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts,
Keep his brain fuming; Epicurean ****s
Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite;
That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honour
Even till a Lethe'd dulness!
Enter VARRIUS
How now, Varrius!

This is most certain that I shall deliver:
Mark Antony is every hour in Rome
Expected: since he went from Egypt 'tis
A space for further travel.

I could have given less matter
A better ear. Menas, I did not think
This amorous surfeiter would have donn'd his helm
For such a petty war: his soldiership
Is twice the other twain: but let us rear
The higher our opinion, that our stirring
Can from the lap of Egypt's widow pluck
The ne'er-lust-wearied Antony.

I cannot hope
Caesar and Antony shall well greet together:
His wife that's dead did trespasses to Caesar;
His brother warr'd upon him; although, I think,
Not moved by Antony.

I know not, Menas,
How lesser enmities may give way to greater.
Were't not that we stand up against them all,
'Twere pregnant they should square between
themselves;
For they have entertained cause enough
To draw their swords: but how the fear of us
May cement their divisions and bind up
The petty difference, we yet not know.
Be't as our gods will have't! It only stands
Our lives upon to use our strongest hands.
Come, Menas.
Exeunt

Enter DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS and LEPIDUS

Good Enobarbus, 'tis a worthy deed,
And shall become you well, to entreat your captain
To soft and gentle speech.

I shall entreat him
To answer like himself: if Caesar move him,
Let Antony look over Caesar's head
And speak as loud as Mars. By Jupiter,
Were I the wearer of Antonius' beard,
I would not shave't to-day.

'Tis not a time
For private stomaching.

Every time
Serves for the matter that is then born in't.

But small to greater matters must give way.

Not if the small come first.

Your speech is passion:
But, pray you, stir no embers up. Here comes
The noble Antony.
Enter MARK ANTONY and VENTIDIUS

And yonder, Caesar.
Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, MECAENAS, and AGRIPPA

If we compose well here, to Parthia:
Hark, Ventidius.

I do not know,
Mecaenas; ask Agrippa.

Noble friends,
That which combined us was most great, and let not
A leaner action rend us. What's amiss,
May it be gently heard: when we debate
Our trivial difference loud, we do commit
Murder in healing wounds: then, noble partners,
The rather, for I earnestly beseech,
Touch you the sourest points with sweetest terms,
Nor curstness grow to the matter.

'Tis spoken well.
Were we before our armies, and to fight.
I should do thus.
Flourish

Welcome to Rome.

Thank you.

Sit.

Sit, sir.

Nay, then.

I learn, you take things ill which are not so,
Or being, concern you not.

I must be laugh'd at,
If, or for nothing or a little, I
Should say myself offended, and with you
Chiefly i' the world; more laugh'd at, that I should
Once name you derogately, when to sound your name
It not concern'd me.

My being in Egypt, Caesar,
What was't to you?

No more than my residing here at Rome
Might be to you in Egypt: yet, if you there
Did practise on my state, your being in Egypt
Might be my question.

How intend you, practised?

You may be pleased to catch at mine intent
By what did here befal me. Your wife and brother
Made wars upon me; and their contestation
Was theme for you, you were the word of war.

You do mistake your business; my brother never
Did urge me in his act: I did inquire it;
And have my learning from some true reports,
That drew their swords with you. Did he not rather
Discredit my authority with yours;
And make the wars alike against my stomach,
Having alike your cause? Of this my letters
Before did satisfy you. If you'll patch a quarrel,
As matter whole you have not to make it with,
It must not be with this.

You praise yourself
By laying defects of judgment to me; but
You patch'd up your excuses.

Not so, not so;
I know you could not lack, I am certain on't,
Very necessity of this thought, that I,
Your partner in the cause 'gainst which he fought,
Could not with graceful eyes attend those wars
Which fronted mine own peace. As for my wife,
I would you had her spirit in such another:
The third o' the world is yours; which with a snaffle
You may pace easy, but not such a wife.

Would we had all such wives, that the men might go
to wars with the women!

So much uncurbable, her garboils, Caesar
Made out of her impatience, which not wanted
Shrewdness of policy too, I grieving grant
Did you too much disquiet: for that you must
But say, I could not help it.

I wrote to you
When rioting in Alexandria; you
Did pocket up my letters, and with taunts
Did gibe my missive out of audience.

Sir,
He fell upon me ere admitted: then
Three kings I had newly feasted, and did want
Of what I was i' the morning: but next day
I told him of myself; which was as much
As to have ask'd him pardon. Let this fellow
Be nothing of our strife; if we contend,
Out of our question wipe him.

You have broken
The article of your oath; which you shall never
Have tongue to charge me with.

Soft, Caesar!

No,
Lepidus, let him speak:
The honour is sacred which he talks on now,
Supposing that I lack'd it. But, on, Caesar;
The article of my oath.

To lend me arms and aid when I required them;
The which you both denied.

Neglected, rather;
And then when poison'd hours had bound me up
From mine own knowledge. As nearly as I may,
I'll play the penitent to you: but mine honesty
Shall not make poor my greatness, nor my power
Work without it. Truth is, that Fulvia,
To have me out of Egypt, made wars here;
For which myself, the ignorant motive, do
So far ask pardon as befits mine honour
To stoop in such a case.

'Tis noble spoken.

If it might please you, to enforce no further
The griefs between ye: to forget them quite
Were to remember that the present need
Speaks to atone you.

Worthily spoken, Mecaenas.

Or, if you borrow one another's love for the
instant, you may, when you hear no more words of
Pompey, return it again: you shall have time to
wrangle in when you have nothing else to do.

Thou art a soldier only: speak no more.

That truth should be silent I had almost forgot.

You wrong this presence; therefore speak no more.

Go to, then; your considerate stone.

I do not much dislike the matter, but
The manner of his speech; for't cannot be
We shall remain in friendship, our conditions
So differing in their acts. Yet if I knew
What hoop should hold us stanch, from edge to edge
O' the world I would pursue it.

Give me leave, Caesar,--

Speak, Agrippa.

Thou hast a sister by the mother's side,
Admired Octavia: great Mark Antony
Is now a widower.

Say not so, Agrippa:
If Cleopatra heard you, your reproof
Were well deserved of rashness.

I am not married, Caesar: let me hear
Agrippa further speak.

To hold you in perpetual amity,
To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts
With an unslipping knot, take Antony
Octavia to his wife; whose beauty claims
No worse a husband than the best of men;
Whose virtue and whose general graces speak
That which none else can utter. By this marriage,
All little jealousies, which now seem great,
And all great fears, which now import their dangers,
Would then be nothing: truths would be tales,
Where now half tales be truths: her love to both
Would, each to other and all loves to both,
Draw after her. Pardon what I have spoke;
For 'tis a studied, not a present thought,
By duty ruminated.

Will Caesar speak?

Not till he hears how Antony is touch'd
With what is spoke already.

What power is in Agrippa,
If I would say, 'Agrippa, be it so,'
To make this good?

The power of Caesar, and
His power unto Octavia.

May I never
To this good purpose, that so fairly shows,
Dream of impediment! Let me have thy hand:
Further this act of grace: and from this hour
The heart of brothers govern in our loves
And sway our great designs!

There is my hand.
A sister I bequeath you, whom no brother
Did ever love so dearly: let her live
To join our kingdoms and our hearts; and never
Fly off our loves again!

Happily, amen!

I did not think to draw my sword 'gainst Pompey;
For he hath laid strange courtesies and great
Of late upon me: I must thank him only,
Lest my remembrance suffer ill report;
At heel of that, defy him.

Time calls upon's:
Of us must Pompey presently be sought,
Or else he seeks out us.

Where lies he?

About the mount Misenum.

What is his strength by land?

Great and increasing: but by sea
He is an absolute master.

So is the fame.
Would we had spoke together! Haste we for it:
Yet, ere we put ourselves in arms, dispatch we
The business we have talk'd of.

With most gladness:
And do invite you to my sister's view,
Whither straight I'll lead you.

Let us, Lepidus,
Not lack your company.

Noble Antony,
Not sickness should detain me.
Flourish. Exeunt OCTAVIUS CAESAR, MARK ANTONY, and LEPIDUS

Welcome from Egypt, sir.

Half the heart of Caesar, worthy Mecaenas! My
honourable friend, Agrippa!

Good Enobarbus!

We have cause to be glad that matters are so well
digested. You stayed well by 't in Egypt.

Ay, sir; we did sleep day out of countenance, and
made the night light with drinking.

Eight wild-boars roasted whole at a breakfast, and
but twelve persons there; is this true?

This was but as a fly by an eagle: we had much more
monstrous matter of feast, which worthily deserved noting.

She's a most triumphant lady, if report be square to
her.

When she first met Mark Antony, she pursed up
his heart, upon the river of Cydnus.

There she appeared indeed; or my reporter devised
well for her.

I will tell you.
The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne,
Burn'd on the water: the poop was beaten gold;
Purple the sails, and so perfumed that
The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver,
Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made
The water which they beat to follow faster,
As amorous of their strokes. For her own person,
It beggar'd all de******ion: she did lie
In her pavilion--cloth-of-gold of tissue--
O'er-picturing that Venus where we see
The fancy outwork nature: on each side her
Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids,
With divers-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem
To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
And what they undid did.

O, rare for Antony!

Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides,
So many mermaids, tended her i' the eyes,
And made their bends adornings: at the helm
A seeming mermaid steers: the silken tackle
Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands,
That yarely frame the office. From the barge
A strange invisible perfume hits the sense
Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast
Her people out upon her; and Antony,
Enthroned i' the market-place, did sit alone,
Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy,
Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too,
And made a gap in nature.

Rare Egyptian!

Upon her landing, Antony sent to her,
Invited her to supper: she replied,
It should be better he became her guest;
Which she entreated: our courteous Antony,
Whom ne'er the word of 'No' woman heard speak,
Being barber'd ten times o'er, goes to the feast,
And for his ordinary pays his heart
For what his eyes eat only.

Royal wench!
She made great Caesar lay his sword to bed:
He plough'd her, and she cropp'd.

I saw her once
Hop forty paces through the public street;
And having lost her breath, she spoke, and panted,
That she did make defect perfection,
And, breathless, power breathe forth.

Now Antony must leave her utterly.

Never; he will not:
Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
Her infinite variety: other women cloy
The appetites they feed: but she makes hungry
Where most she satisfies; for vilest things
Become themselves in her: that the holy priests
Bless her when she is riggish.

If beauty, wisdom, modesty, can settle
The heart of Antony, Octavia is
A blessed lottery to him.

Let us go.
Good Enobarbus, make yourself my guest
Whilst you abide here.

Humbly, sir, I thank you.
Exeunt

Enter MARK ANTONY, OCTAVIUS CAESAR, OCTAVIA between them, and Attendants

The world and my great office will sometimes
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 lady.
Good night, sir.

Good night.
Exeunt OCTAVIUS CAESAR and OCTAVIA
Enter Soothsayer

Now, sirrah; you do wish yourself in Egypt?

Would I had never come from thence, nor you Thither!

If you can, your reason?

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

Say to me,
Whose fortunes shall rise higher, Caesar's or mine?

Caesar's.
Therefore, O Antony, stay not by his side:
Thy demon, that's thy spirit which keeps thee, is
Noble, courageous high, unmatchable,
Where Caesar's is not; but, near him, thy angel
Becomes a fear, as being o'erpower'd: therefore
Make space enough between you.

Speak this no more.

To none but thee; no more, but when to thee.
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, at odds. I will to Egypt:
And though I make this marriage for my peace,
I' the east my pleasure lies.
Enter VENTIDIUS
O, come, Ventidius,
You must to Parthia: your commission's ready;
Follow me, and receive't.
Exeunt

Enter LEPIDUS, MECAENAS, and AGRIPPA

Trouble yourselves no further: pray you, hasten
Your generals after.

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

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

We shall,
As I conceive the journey, be at the Mount
Before you, Lepidus.

Your way is shorter;
My purposes do draw me much about:
You'll win two days upon me.

Sir, good success!

Farewell.
Exeunt

Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS

Give me some music; music, moody food
Of us that trade in love.

The music, ho!
Enter MARDIAN

Let it alone; let's to billiards: come, Charmian.

My arm is sore; best play with Mardian.

As well a woman with an eunuch play'd
As with a woman. Come, you'll play with me, sir?

As well as I can, madam.

And when good will is show'd, though't come
too short,
The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now:
Give me mine angle; we'll to the river: there,
My music 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.
Enter a Messenger
O, from Italy
Ram thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears,
That long time have been barren.

Madam, madam,--

Antonius dead!--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 is well.

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.

Good madam, hear me.

Well, go to, I will;
But there's no goodness in thy face: if Antony
Be free and healthful,--so tart a favour
To trumpet such good tidings! If not well,
Thou shouldst come like a Fury crown'd with snakes,
Not like a formal man.

Will't please you hear me?

I have a mind to strike thee ere thou speak'st:
Yet if thou say Antony lives, is well,
Or friends with Caesar, 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.

And friends with Caesar.

Thou'rt an honest man.

Caesar and he are greater friends than ever.

Make thee a fortune from me.

But yet, madam,--

I do not like 'But yet,' it does allay
The good precedence; fie upon 'But yet'!
'But yet' is as a gaoler to bring forth
Some monstrous malefactor. Prithee, friend,
Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear,
The good and bad together: he's friends with Caesar:
In state of health thou say'st; and thou say'st free.

Free, madam! no; I made no such report:
He's bound unto Octavia.

For what good turn?

For the best turn i' the bed.

I am pale, Charmian.

Madam, he's married to Octavia.

The most infectious pestilence upon thee!
Strikes him down

Good madam, patience.

What say you? Hence,
Strikes him again
Horrible villain! or I'll spurn thine eyes
Like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head:
She hales him up and down
Thou shalt be whipp'd with wire, and stew'd in brine,
Smarting in lingering pickle.

Gracious madam,
I that do bring the news made not the match.

Say 'tis not so, a province I will give thee,
And make thy fortunes proud: the blow thou hadst
Shall make thy peace for moving me to rage;
And I will boot thee with what gift beside
Thy modesty can beg.

He's married, madam.

Rogue, thou hast lived too long.
Draws a knife

Nay, then I'll run.
What mean you, madam? I have made no fault.
Exit

Good madam, keep yourself within yourself:
The man is innocent.

Some innocents 'scape not the thunderbolt.
Melt Egypt into Nile! and kindly creatures
Turn all to serpents! Call the slave again:
Though I am mad, I will not bite him: call.

He is afeard to come.

I will not hurt him.
Exit CHARMIAN
These hands do lack nobility, that they strike
A meaner than myself; since I myself
Have given myself the cause.
Re-enter CHARMIAN and Messenger
Come hither, sir.
Though it be honest, it is never good
To bring bad news: give to a gracious message.
An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell
Themselves when they be felt.

I have done my duty.

Is he married?
I cannot hate thee worser than I do,
If thou again say 'Yes.'

He's married, madam.

The gods confound thee! dost thou hold there still?

Should I lie, madam?

O, I would thou didst,
So half my Egypt were submerged and made
A cistern for scaled snakes! Go, get thee hence:
Hadst thou Narcissus in thy face, to me
Thou wouldst appear most ugly. He is married?

I crave your highness' pardon.

He is married?

Take no offence that I would not offend you:
To punish me for what you make me do.
Seems much unequal: he's married to Octavia.

O, that his fault should make a knave of thee,
That art not what thou'rt sure of! Get thee hence:
The merchandise which thou hast brought from Rome
Are all too dear for me: lie they upon thy hand,
And be undone by 'em!
Exit Messenger

Good your highness, patience.

In praising Antony, I have dispraised Caesar.

Many times, madam.

I am paid for't now.
Lead me from hence:
I faint: O Iras, Charmian! 'tis no matter.
Go to the fellow, good Alexas; bid him
Report the feature of Octavia, her years,
Her inclination, let him not leave out
The colour of her hair: bring me word quickly.
Exit ALEXAS
Let him for ever go:--let him not--Charmian,
Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon,
The other way's a Mars. Bid you Alexas
To MARDIAN
Bring me word how tall she is. Pity me, Charmian,
But do not speak to me. Lead me to my chamber.
Exeunt

Flourish. Enter POMPEY and MENAS at one door, with drum and trumpet: at another, OCTAVIUS CAESAR, MARK ANTONY, LEPIDUS, DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS, MECAENAS, with Soldiers marching

Your hostages I have, so have you mine;
And we shall talk before we fight.

Most meet
That first we come to words; and therefore have we
Our written purposes before us sent;
Which, if thou hast consider'd, let us know
If 'twill tie up thy dis*******ed sword,
And carry back to Sicily much tall youth
That else must perish here.

To you all three,
The senators alone of this great world,
Chief factors for the gods, I do not know
Wherefore my father should revengers want,
Having a son and friends; since Julius Caesar,
Who at Philippi the good Brutus ghosted,
There saw you labouring for him. What was't
That moved pale Cassius to conspire; and what
Made the all-honour'd, honest Roman, Brutus,
With the arm'd rest, courtiers and beauteous freedom,
To drench the Capitol; but that they would
Have one man but a man? And that is it
Hath made me rig my navy; at whose burthen
The anger'd ocean foams; with which I meant
To scourge the ingratitude that despiteful Rome
Cast on my noble father.

Take your time.

Thou canst not fear us, Pompey, with thy sails;
We'll speak with thee at sea: at land, thou know'st
How much we do o'er-count thee.

At land, indeed,
Thou dost o'er-count me of my father's house:
But, since the cuckoo builds not for himself,
Remain in't as thou mayst.

Be pleased to tell us--
For this is from the present--how you take
The offers we have sent you.

There's the point.

Which do not be entreated to, but weigh
What it is worth embraced.

And what may follow,
To try a larger fortune.

You have made me offer
Of Sicily, Sardinia; and I must
Rid all the sea of pirates; then, to send
Measures of wheat to Rome; this 'greed upon
To part with unhack'd edges, and bear back
Our targes undinted.

That's our offer.

Know, then,
I came before you here a man prepared
To take this offer: but Mark Antony
Put me to some impatience: though I lose
The praise of it by telling, you must know,
When Caesar and your brother were at blows,
Your mother came to Sicily and did find
Her welcome friendly.

I have heard it, Pompey;
And am well studied for a liberal thanks
Which I do owe you.

Let me have your hand:
I did not think, sir, to have met you here.

The beds i' the east are soft; and thanks to you,
That call'd me timelier than my purpose hither;
For I have gain'd by 't.

Since I saw you last,
There is a change upon you.

Well, I know not
What counts harsh fortune casts upon my face;
But in my bosom shall she never come,
To make my heart her vassal.

Well met here.

I hope so, Lepidus. Thus we are agreed:
I crave our composition may be written,
And seal'd between us.

That's the next to do.

We'll feast each other ere we part; and let's
Draw lots who shall begin.

That will I, Pompey.

No, Antony, take the lot: but, first
Or last, your fine Egyptian ****ery
Shall have the fame. I have heard that Julius Caesar
Grew fat with feasting there.

You have heard much.

I have fair meanings, sir.

And fair words to them.

Then so much have I heard:
And I have heard, Apollodorus carried--

No more of that: he did so.

What, I pray you?

A certain queen to Caesar in a mattress.

I know thee now: how farest thou, soldier?

Well;
And well am like to do; for, I perceive,
Four feasts are toward.

Let me shake thy hand;
I never hated thee: I have seen thee fight,
When I have envied thy behavior.

Sir,
I never loved you much; but I ha' praised ye,
When you have well deserved ten times as much
As I have said you did.

Enjoy thy plainness,
It nothing ill becomes thee.
Aboard my galley I invite you all:
Will you lead, lords?

Show us the way, sir.

Come.
Exeunt all but MENAS and ENOBARBUS

[Aside] Thy father, Pompey, would ne'er have
made this treaty.--You and I have known, sir.

At sea, I think.

We have, sir.

You have done well by water.

And you by land.

I will praise any man that will praise me; though it
cannot be denied what I have done by land.

Nor what I have done by water.

Yes, something you can deny for your own
safety: you have been a great thief by sea.

And you by land.

There I deny my land service. But give me your
hand, Menas: if our eyes had authority, here they
might take two thieves kissing.

All men's faces are true, whatsome'er their hands are.

But there is never a fair woman has a true face.

No slander; they steal hearts.

We came hither to fight with you.

For my part, I am sorry it is turned to a drinking.
Pompey doth this day laugh away his fortune.

If he do, sure, he cannot weep't back again.

You've said, sir. We looked not for Mark Antony
here: pray you, is he married to Cleopatra?

Caesar's sister is called Octavia.

True, sir; she was the wife of Caius Marcellus.

But she is now the wife of Marcus Antonius.

Pray ye, sir?

'Tis true.

Then is Caesar and he for ever knit together.

If I were bound to divine of this unity, I would
not prophesy so.

I think the policy of that purpose made more in the
marriage than the love of the parties.

I think so too. But you shall find, the band that
seems to tie their friendship together will be the
very strangler of their amity: Octavia is of a
holy, cold, and still conversation.

Who would not have his wife so?

Not he that himself is not so; which is Mark Antony.
He will to his Egyptian dish again: then shall the
sighs of Octavia blow the fire up in Caesar; and, as
I said before, that which is the strength of their
amity shall prove the immediate author of their
variance. Antony will use his affection where it is:
he married but his occasion here.

And thus it may be. Come, sir, will you aboard?
I have a health for you.

I shall take it, sir: we have used our throats in Egypt.

Come, let's away.
Exeunt

Music plays. Enter two or three Servants with a banquet

Here they'll be, man. Some o' their plants are
ill-rooted already: the least wind i' the world
will blow them down.

Lepidus is high-coloured.

They have made him drink alms-drink.

As they pinch one another by the disposition, he
cries out 'No more;' reconciles them to his
entreaty, and himself to the drink.

But it raises the greater war between him and
his discretion.

Why, this is to have a name in great men's
fellowship: I had as lief have a reed that will do
me no service as a partisan I could not heave.

To be called into a huge sphere, and not to be seen
to move in't, are the holes where eyes should be,
which pitifully disaster the cheeks.
A sennet sounded. Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, MARK ANTONY, LEPIDUS, POMPEY, AGRIPPA, MECAENAS, DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS, MENAS, with other captains

[To OCTAVIUS CAESAR] Thus do they, sir: they take
the flow o' the Nile
By certain scales i' the pyramid; they know,
By the height, the lowness, or the mean, if dearth
Or foison follow: the higher Nilus swells,
The more it promises: as it ebbs, the seedsman
Upon the slime and ooze scatters his grain,
And shortly comes to harvest.

You've strange serpents there.

Ay, Lepidus.

Your serpent of Egypt is bred now of your mud by the
operation of your sun: so is your crocodile.

They are so.

Sit,--and some wine! A health to Lepidus!

I am not so well as I should be, but I'll ne'er out.

Not till you have slept; I fear me you'll be in till then.

Nay, certainly, I have heard the Ptolemies'
pyramises are very goodly things; without
contradiction, I have heard that.

[Aside to POMPEY] Pompey, a word.

[Aside to MENAS] Say in mine ear:
what is't?

[Aside to POMPEY] Forsake thy seat, I do beseech
thee, captain,
And hear me speak a word.

[Aside to MENAS] Forbear me till anon.
This wine for Lepidus!

What manner o' thing is your crocodile?

It is shaped, sir, like itself; and it is as broad
as it hath breadth: it is just so high as it is,
and moves with its own organs: it lives by that
which nourisheth it; and the elements once out of
it, it transmigrates.

What colour is it of?

Of it own colour too.

'Tis a strange serpent.

'Tis so. And the tears of it are wet.

Will this de******ion satisfy him?

With the health that Pompey gives him, else he is a
very epicure.

[Aside to MENAS] Go hang, sir, hang! Tell me of
that? away!
Do as I bid you. Where's this cup I call'd for?

[Aside to POMPEY] If for the sake of merit thou
wilt hear me,
Rise from thy stool.

[Aside to MENAS] I think thou'rt mad.
The matter?
Rises, and walks aside

I have ever held my cap off to thy fortunes.

Thou hast served me with much faith. What's else to say?
Be jolly, lords.

These quick-sands, Lepidus,
Keep off them, for you sink.

Wilt thou be lord of all the world?

What say'st thou?

Wilt thou be lord of the whole world? That's twice.

How should that be?

But entertain it,
And, though thou think me poor, I am the man
Will give thee all the world.

Hast thou drunk well?

Now, Pompey, I have kept me from the cup.
Thou art, if thou darest be, the earthly Jove:
Whate'er the ocean pales, or sky inclips,
Is thine, if thou wilt ha't.

Show me which way.

These three world-sharers, these competitors,
Are in thy vessel: let me cut the cable;
And, when we are put off, fall to their throats:
All there is thine.

Ah, this thou shouldst have done,
And not have spoke on't! In me 'tis villany;
In thee't had been good service. Thou must know,
'Tis not my profit that does lead mine honour;
Mine honour, it. Repent that e'er thy tongue
Hath so betray'd thine act: being done unknown,
I should have found it afterwards well done;
But must condemn it now. Desist, and drink.

[Aside] For this,
I'll never follow thy pall'd fortunes more.
Who seeks, and will not take when once 'tis offer'd,
Shall never find it more.

This health to Lepidus!

Bear him ashore. I'll pledge it for him, Pompey.

Here's to thee, Menas!

Enobarbus, welcome!

Fill till the cup be hid.

There's a strong fellow, Menas.
Pointing to the Attendant who carries off LEPIDUS

Why?

A' bears the third part of the world, man; see'st
not?

The third part, then, is drunk: would it were all,
That it might go on wheels!

Drink thou; increase the reels.

Come.

This is not yet an Alexandrian feast.

It ripens towards it. Strike the vessels, ho?
Here is to Caesar!

I could well forbear't.
It's monstrous labour, when I wash my brain,
And it grows fouler.

Be a child o' the time.

Possess it, I'll make answer:
But I had rather fast from all four days
Than drink so much in one.

Ha, my brave emperor!
To MARK ANTONY
Shall we dance now the Egyptian Bacchanals,
And celebrate our drink?

Let's ha't, good soldier.

Come, let's all take hands,
Till that the conquering wine hath steep'd our sense
In soft and delicate Lethe.

All take hands.
Make battery to our ears with the loud music:
The while I'll place you: then the boy shall sing;
The holding every man shall bear as loud
As his strong sides can volley.
Music plays. DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS places them hand in hand
THE SONG.
Come, thou monarch of the vine,
Plumpy Bacchus with pink eyne!
In thy fats our cares be drown'd,
With thy grapes our hairs be crown'd:
Cup us, till the world go round,
Cup us, till the world go round!

What would you more? Pompey, good night. Good brother,
Let me request you off: our graver business
Frowns at this levity. Gentle lords, let's part;
You see we have burnt our cheeks: strong Enobarb
Is weaker than the wine; and mine own tongue
Splits what it speaks: the wild disguise hath almost
Antick'd us all. What needs more words? Good night.
Good Antony, your hand.

I'll try you on the shore.

And shall, sir; give's your hand.

O Antony,
You have my father's house,--But, what? we are friends.
Come, down into the boat.

Take heed you fall not.
Exeunt all but DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS and MENAS
Menas, I'll not on shore.

No, to my cabin.
These drums! these trumpets, flutes! what!
Let Neptune hear we bid a loud farewell
To these great fellows: sound and be hang'd, sound out!
Sound a flourish, with drums

Ho! says a' There's my cap.

Ho! Noble captain, come.
Exeunt

Enter VENTIDIUS as it were in triumph, with SILIUS, and other Romans, Officers, and Soldiers; the dead body of PACORUS borne before him

Now, darting Parthia, art thou struck; and now
Pleased fortune does of Marcus Crassus' death
Make me revenger. Bear the king's son's body
Before our army. Thy Pacorus, Orodes,
Pays this for Marcus Crassus.

Noble Ventidius,
Whilst yet with Parthian blood thy sword is warm,
The fugitive Parthians follow; spur through Media,
Mesopotamia, and the ****ters whither
The routed fly: so thy grand captain Antony
Shall set thee on triumphant chariots and
Put garlands on thy head.

O Silius, Silius,
I have done enough; a lower place, note well,
May make too great an act: for learn this, Silius;
Better to leave undone, than by our deed
Acquire too high a fame when him we serve's away.
Caesar and Antony have ever won
More in their officer than person: Sossius,
One of my place in Syria, his lieutenant,
For quick accumulation of renown,
Which he achieved by the minute, lost his favour.
Who does i' the wars more than his captain can
Becomes his captain's captain: and ambition,
The soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss,
Than gain which darkens him.
I could do more to do Antonius good,
But 'twould offend him; and in his offence
Should my performance perish.

Thou hast, Ventidius,
that
Without the which a soldier, and his sword,
Grants scarce distinction. Thou wilt write to Antony!

I'll humbly signify what in his name,
That magical word of war, we have effected;
How, with his banners and his well-paid ranks,
The ne'er-yet-beaten horse of Parthia
We have jaded out o' the field.

Where is he now?

He purposeth to Athens: whither, with what haste
The weight we must convey with's will permit,
We shall appear before him. On there; pass along!
Exeunt

Enter AGRIPPA at one door, DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS at another

What, are the brothers parted?

They have dispatch'd with Pompey, he is gone;
The other three are sealing. Octavia weeps
To part from Rome; Caesar is sad; and Lepidus,
Since Pompey's feast, as Menas says, is troubled
With the green sickness.

'Tis a noble Lepidus.

A very fine one: O, how he loves Caesar!

Nay, but how dearly he adores Mark Antony!

Caesar? Why, he's the Jupiter of men.

What's Antony? The god of Jupiter.

Spake you of Caesar? How! the non-pareil!

O Antony! O thou Arabian bird!

Would you praise Caesar, say 'Caesar:' go no further.

Indeed, he plied them both with excellent praises.

But he loves Caesar best; yet he loves Antony:
Ho! hearts, tongues, figures, scribes, bards,
poets, cannot
Think, speak, cast, write, sing, number, ho!
His love to Antony. But as for Caesar,
Kneel down, kneel down, and wonder.

Both he loves.

They are his shards, and he their beetle.
Trumpets within
So;
This is to horse. Adieu, noble Agrippa.

Good fortune, worthy soldier; and farewell.
Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, MARK ANTONY, LEPIDUS, and OCTAVIA

No further, sir.

You take from me a great part of myself;
Use me well in 't. Sister, prove such a wife
As my thoughts make thee, and as my farthest 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 cherish'd.

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.

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

My noble brother!

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

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

What, Octavia?

I'll tell you in your ear.

Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can
Her heart inform her tongue,--the swan's
down-feather,
That stands upon the swell at full of tide,
And neither way inclines.

[Aside to AGRIPPA] Will Caesar weep?

[Aside to DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS] He has a cloud in 's face.

[Aside to AGRIPPA] He were the worse for that,
were he a horse;
So is he, being a man.

[Aside to DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS] Why, Enobarbus,
When Antony found Julius Caesar dead,
He cried almost to roaring; and he wept
When at Philippi he found Brutus slain.

[Aside to AGRIPPA] That year, indeed, he was
troubled with a rheum;
What willingly he did confound he wail'd,
Believe't, till I wept too.

No, sweet Octavia,
You shall hear from me still; the time shall not
Out-go 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!

Let all the number of the stars give light
To thy fair way!

Farewell, fa rewell!
Kisses OCTAVIA

Farewell!
Trumpets sound. Exeunt

Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS

Where is the fellow?

Half afeard to come.

Go to, go to.
Enter the Messenger as before
Come hither, sir.

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.

Most gracious majesty,--

Didst thou behold Octavia?

Ay, dread queen.

Where?

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

Is she as tall as me?

She is not, madam.

Didst hear her speak? is she shrill-tongued or low?

Madam, I heard her speak; she is low-voiced.

That's not so good: he cannot like her long.

Like her! O Isis! 'tis impossible.

I think so, Charmian: dull of tongue, and dwarfish!
What majesty is in her gait? Remember,
If e'er thou look'dst on majesty.

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

Is this certain?

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.

Excellent.

Guess at her years, I prithee.

Madam,
She was a widow,--

Widow! Charmian, hark.

And I do think she's thirty.

Bear'st thou her face in mind? is't long or round?

Round even to faultiness.

For the most part, too, they are foolish that are so.
Her hair, what colour?

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

There's 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

A proper man.

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

Nothing, madam.

The man hath seen some majesty, and should know.

Hath he seen majesty? Isis else defend,
And serving you so long!

I have one thing more to ask him yet, good Charmian:
But 'tis no matter; thou shalt bring him to me
Where I will write. All may be well enough.

I warrant you, madam.
Exeunt

Enter MARK ANTONY and OCTAVIA

Nay, nay, Octavia, not only that,--
That were excusable, that, and thousands more
Of semblable import,--but he hath waged
New wars 'gainst Pompey; made his will, and read it
To public ear:
Spoke scantly of me: when perforce he could not
But pay me terms of honour, cold and sickly
He vented them; most narrow measure lent me:
When the best hint was given him, he not took't,
Or did it from his teeth.

O my good lord,
Believe not all; or, if you must believe,
Stomach not all. A more unhappy lady,
If this division chance, ne'er stood between,
Praying for both parts:
The good gods me presently,
When I shall pray, 'O bless my lord and husband!'
Undo that prayer, by crying out as loud,
'O, bless my brother!' Husband win, win brother,
Prays, and destroys the prayer; no midway
'Twixt these extremes at all.

Gentle Octavia,
Let your best love draw to that point, which seeks
Best to preserve it: if I lose mine honour,
I lose myself: better I were not yours
Than yours so branchless. But, as you requested,
Yourself shall go between 's: the mean time, lady,
I'll raise the preparation of a war
Shall stain your brother: make your soonest haste;
So your desires are yours.

Thanks to my lord.
The Jove of power make me most weak, most weak,
Your reconciler! Wars 'twixt you twain would be
As if the world should cleave, and that slain men
Should solder up the rift.

When it appears to you where this begins,
Turn your displeasure that way: for our faults
Can never be so equal, that your love
Can equally move with them. Provide your going;
Choose your own company, and command what cost
Your heart has mind to.
Exeunt

Enter DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS and EROS, meeting

How now, friend Eros!

There's strange news come, sir.

What, man?

Caesar and Lepidus have made wars upon Pompey.

This is old: what is the success?

Caesar, having made use of him in the wars 'gainst
Pompey, presently denied him rivality; would not let
him partake in the glory of the action: and not
resting here, accuses him of letters he had formerly
wrote to Pompey; upon his own appeal, seizes him: so
the poor third is up, till death enlarge his confine.

Then, world, thou hast a pair of chaps, no more;
And throw between them all the food thou hast,
They'll grind the one the other. Where's Antony?

He's walking in the garden--thus; and spurns
The rush that lies before him; cries, 'Fool Lepidus!'
And threats the throat of that his officer
That murder'd Pompey.

Our great navy's rigg'd.

For Italy and Caesar. More, Domitius;
My lord desires you presently: my news
I might have told hereafter.

'Twill be naught:
But let it be. Bring me to Antony.

Come, sir.
Exeunt

Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, AGRIPPA, and MECAENAS

Contemning Rome, he has done all this, and more,
In Alexandria: here's the manner of 't:
I' the market-place, on a tribunal silver'd,
Cleopatra and himself in chairs of gold
Were publicly enthroned: at the feet sat
Caesarion, whom they call my father's son,
And all the unlawful issue that their lust
Since then hath made between them. Unto her
He gave the stablishment of Egypt; made her
Of lower Syria, Cyprus, Lydia,
Absolute queen.

This in the public eye?

I' the common show-place, where they exercise.
His sons he there proclaim'd the kings of kings:
Great Media, Parthia, and Armenia.
He gave to Alexander; to Ptolemy he assign'd
Syria, Cilicia, and Phoenicia: she
In the habiliments of the goddess Isis
That day appear'd; and oft before gave audience,
As 'tis reported, so.

Let Rome be thus Inform'd.

Who, queasy with his insolence
Already, will their good thoughts call from him.

The people know it; and have now received
His accusations.

Who does he accuse?

Caesar: and that, having in Sicily
Sextus Pompeius spoil'd, we had not rated him
His part o' the isle: then does he say, he lent me
Some shipping unrestored: lastly, he frets
That Lepidus of the triumvirate
Should be deposed; and, being, that we detain
All his revenue.

Sir, this should be answer'd.

'Tis done already, and the messenger gone.
I have told him, Lepidus was grown too cruel;
That he his high authority abused,
And did deserve his change: for what I have conquer'd,
I grant him part; but then, in his Armenia,
And other of his conquer'd kingdoms, I
Demand the like.

He'll never yield to that.

Nor must not then be yielded to in this.
Enter OCTAVIA with her train

Hail, Caesar, and my lord! hail, most dear Caesar!

That ever I should call thee castaway!

You have not call'd me so, nor have you cause.

Why have you stol'n upon us thus! You come not
Like Caesar's sister: the wife of Antony
Should have an army for an usher, and
The neighs of horse to tell of her approach
Long ere she did appear; the trees by the way
Should have borne men; and expectation fainted,
Longing for what it had not; nay, the dust
Should have ascended to the roof of heaven,
Raised by your populous troops: but you are come
A market-maid to Rome; and have prevented
The ostentation of our love, which, left unshown,
Is often left unloved; we should have met you
By sea and land; supplying every stage
With an augmented greeting.

Good my lord,
To come thus was I not constrain'd, but did
On my free will. My lord, Mark Antony,
Hearing that you prepared for war, acquainted
My grieved ear withal; whereon, I begg'd
His pardon for return.

Which soon he granted,
Being an obstruct 'tween his lust and him.

Do not say so, my lord.

I have eyes upon him,
And his affairs come to me on the wind.
Where is he now?

My lord, in Athens.

No, my most wronged sister; Cleopatra
Hath nodded him to her. He hath given his empire
Up to a whore; who now are levying
The kings o' the earth for war; he hath assembled
Bocchus, the king of Libya; Archelaus,
Of Cappadocia; Philadelphos, king
Of Paphlagonia; the Thracian king, Adallas;
King Malchus of Arabia; King of Pont;
Herod of Jewry; Mithridates, king
Of Comagene; Polemon and Amyntas,
The kings of Mede and Lycaonia,
With a more larger list of sceptres.

Ay me, most wretched,
That have my heart parted betwixt two friends
That do afflict each other!

Welcome hither:
Your letters did withhold our breaking forth;
Till we perceived, both how you were wrong led,
And we in negligent danger. Cheer your heart;
Be you not troubled with the time, which drives
O'er your ******* these strong necessities;
But let determined things to destiny
Hold unbewail'd their way. Welcome to Rome;
Nothing more dear to me. You are abused
Beyond the mark of thought: and the high gods,
To do you justice, make them ministers
Of us and those that love you. Best of comfort;
And ever welcome to us.

Welcome, lady.

Welcome, dear madam.
Each heart in Rome does love and pity you:
Only the adulterous Antony, most large
In his abominations, turns you off;
And gives his potent regiment to a trull,
That noises it against us.

Is it so, sir?

Most certain. Sister, welcome: pray you,
Be ever known to patience: my dear'st sister!
Exeunt

Enter CLEOPATRA and DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS

I will be even with thee, doubt it not.

But why, why, why?

Thou hast forspoke my being in these wars,
And say'st it is not fit.

Well, is it, is it?

If not denounced against us, why should not we
Be there in person?

[Aside] Well, I could reply:
If we should serve with horse and mares together,
The horse were merely lost; the mares would bear
A soldier and his horse.

What is't you say?

Your presence needs must puzzle Antony;
Take from his heart, take from his brain,
from's time,
What should not then be spared. He is already
Traduced for levity; and 'tis said in Rome
That Photinus an eunuch and your maids
Manage this war.

Sink Rome, and their tongues rot
That speak against us! A charge we bear i' the war,
And, as the president of my kingdom, will
Appear there for a man. Speak not against it:
I will not stay behind.

Nay, I have done.
Here comes the emperor.
Enter MARK ANTONY and CANIDIUS

Is it not strange, Canidius,
That from Tarentum and Brundusium
He could so quickly cut the Ionian sea,
And take in Toryne? You have heard on't, sweet?

Celerity is never more admired
Than by the negligent.

A good rebuke,
Which might have well becomed the best of men,
To taunt at slackness. Canidius, we
Will fight with him by sea.

By sea! what else?

Why will my lord do so?

For that he dares us to't.

So hath my lord dared him to single fight.

Ay, and to wage this battle at Pharsalia.
Where Caesar fought with Pompey: but these offers,
Which serve not for his vantage, be shakes off;
And so should you.

Your ships are not well mann'd;
Your mariners are muleters, reapers, people
Ingross'd by swift impress; in Caesar's fleet
Are those that often have 'gainst Pompey fought:
Their ships are yare; yours, heavy: no disgrace
Shall fall you for refusing him at sea,
Being prepared for land.

By sea, by sea.

Most worthy sir, you therein throw away
The absolute soldiership you have by land;
Distract your army, which doth most consist
Of war-mark'd footmen; leave unexecuted
Your own renowned knowledge; quite forego
The way which promises assurance; and
Give up yourself merely to chance and hazard,
From firm security.

I'll fight at sea.

I have sixty sails, Caesar none better.

Our overplus of shipping will we burn;
And, with the rest full-mann'd, from the head of Actium
Beat the approaching Caesar. But if we fail,
We then can do't at land.
Enter a Messenger
Thy business?

The news is true, my lord; he is descried;
Caesar has taken Toryne.

Can he be there in person? 'tis impossible;
Strange that power should be. Canidius,
Our nineteen legions thou shalt hold by land,
And our twelve thousand horse. We'll to our ship:
Away, my Thetis!
Enter a Soldier
How now, worthy soldier?

O noble emperor, do not fight by sea;
Trust not to rotten planks: do you misdoubt
This sword and these my wounds? Let the Egyptians
And the Phoenicians go a-ducking; we
Have used to conquer, standing on the earth,
And fighting foot to foot.

Well, well: away!
Exeunt MARK ANTONY, QUEEN CLEOPATRA, and DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS

By Hercules, I think I am i' the right.

Soldier, thou art: but his whole action grows
Not in the power on't: so our leader's led,
And we are women's men.

You keep by land
The legions and the horse whole, do you not?

Marcus Octavius, Marcus Justeius,
Publicola, and Caelius, are for sea:
But we keep whole by land. This speed of Caesar's
Carries beyond belief.

While he was yet in Rome,
His power went out in such distractions as
Beguiled all spies.

Who's his lieutenant, hear you?

They say, one Taurus.

Well I know the man.
Enter a Messenger

The emperor calls Canidius.

With news the time's with labour, and throes forth,
Each minute, some.
Exeunt

Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, and TAURUS, with his army, marching

Taurus!

My lord?

Strike not by land; keep whole: provoke not battle,
Till we have done at sea. Do not exceed
The pre****** of this scroll: our fortune lies
Upon this jump.
Exeunt

Enter MARK ANTONY and DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS

Set we our squadrons on yond side o' the hill,
In eye of Caesar's battle; from which place
We may the number of the ships behold,
And so proceed accordingly.
Exeunt

CANIDIUS marcheth with his land army one way over the stage; and TAURUS, the lieutenant of OCTAVIUS CAESAR, the other way. After their going in, is heard the noise of a sea-fight

Alarum. Enter DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS

Naught, naught all, naught! I can behold no longer:
The Antoniad, the Egyptian admiral,
With all their sixty, fly and turn the rudder:
To see't mine eyes are blasted.
Enter SCARUS

Gods and goddesses,
All the whole synod of them!

What's thy passion!

The greater cantle of the world is lost
With very ignorance; we have kiss'd away
Kingdoms and provinces.

How appears the fight?

On our side like the token'd pestilence,
Where death is sure. Yon ribaudred nag of Egypt,--
Whom leprosy o'ertake!--i' the midst o' the fight,
When vantage like a pair of twins appear'd,
Both as the same, or rather ours the elder,
The breese upon her, like a cow in June,
Hoists sails and flies.

That I beheld:
Mine eyes did sicken at the sight, and could not
Endure a further view.

She once being loof'd,
The noble ruin of her magic, Antony,
Claps on his sea-wing, and, like a doting mallard,
Leaving the fight in height, flies after her:
I never saw an action of such shame;
Experience, manhood, honour, ne'er before
Did violate so itself.

Alack, alack!
Enter CANIDIUS

Our fortune on the sea is out of breath,
And sinks most lamentably. Had our general
Been what he knew himself, it had gone well:
O, he has given example for our flight,
Most grossly, by his own!

Ay, are you thereabouts?
Why, then, good night indeed.

Toward Peloponnesus are they fled.

'Tis easy to't; and there I will attend
What further comes.

To Caesar will I render
My legions and my horse: six kings already
Show me the way of yielding.

I'll yet follow
The wounded chance of Antony, though my reason
Sits in the wind against me.
Exeunt

Enter MARK ANTONY with Attendants

Hark! the land bids me tread no more upon't;
It is ashamed to bear me! Friends, come hither:
I am so lated in the world, that I
Have lost my way for ever: I have a ship
Laden with gold; take that, divide it; fly,
And make your peace with Caesar.

Fly! not we.

I have fled myself; and have instructed cowards
To run and show their shoulders. Friends, be gone;
I have myself resolved upon a course
Which has no need of you; be gone:
My treasure's in the harbour, take it. O,
I follow'd that I blush to look upon:
My very hairs do mutiny; for the white
Reprove the brown for rashness, and they them
For fear and doting. Friends, be gone: you shall
Have letters from me to some friends that will
Sweep your way for you. Pray you, look not sad,
Nor make replies of loathness: take the hint
Which my despair proclaims; let that be left
Which leaves itself: to the sea-side straightway:
I will possess you of that ship and treasure.
Leave me, I pray, a little: pray you now:
Nay, do so; for, indeed, I have lost command,
Therefore I pray you: I'll see you by and by.
Sits down
Enter CLEOPATRA led by CHARMIAN and IRAS; EROS following

Nay, gentle madam, to him, comfort him.

Do, most dear queen.

Do! why: what else?

Let me sit down. O Juno!

No, no, no, no, no.

See you here, sir?

O fie, fie, fie!

Madam!

Madam, O good empress!

Sir, sir,--

Yes, my lord, yes; he at Philippi kept
His sword e'en like a dancer; while I struck
The lean and wrinkled Cassius; and 'twas I
That the mad Brutus ended: he alone
Dealt on lieutenantry, and no practise had
In the brave squares of war: yet now--No matter.

Ah, stand by.

The queen, my lord, the queen.

Go to him, madam, speak to him:
He is unqualitied with very shame.

Well then, sustain him: O!

Most noble sir, arise; the queen approaches:
Her head's declined, and death will seize her, but
Your comfort makes the rescue.

I have offended reputation,
A most unnoble swerving.

Sir, the queen.

O, whither hast thou led me, Egypt? See,
How I convey my shame out of thine eyes
By looking back what I have left behind
'Stroy'd in dishonour.

O my lord, my lord,
Forgive my fearful sails! I little thought
You would have follow'd.

Egypt, thou knew'st too well
My heart was to thy rudder tied by the strings,
And thou shouldst tow me after: o'er my spirit
Thy full supremacy thou knew'st, and that
Thy beck might from the bidding of the gods
Command me.

O, my pardon!

Now I must
To the young man send humble treaties, dodge
And palter in the shifts of lowness; who
With half the bulk o' the world play'd as I pleased,
Making and marring fortunes. You did know
How much you were my conqueror; and that
My sword, made weak by my affection, would
Obey it on all cause.

Pardon, pardon!

Fall not a tear, I say; one of them rates
All that is won and lost: give me a kiss;
Even this repays me. We sent our schoolmaster;
Is he come back? Love, I am full of lead.
Some wine, within there, and our viands! Fortune knows
We scorn her most when most she offers blows.
Exeunt

Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, DOLABELLA, THYREUS, with others

Let him appear that's come from Antony.
Know you him?

Caesar, 'tis his schoolmaster:
An argument that he is pluck'd, when hither
He sends so poor a pinion off his wing,
Which had superfluous kings for messengers
Not many moons gone by.
Enter EUPHRONIUS, ambassador from MARK ANTONY

Approach, and speak.

Such as I am, I come from Antony:
I was of late as petty to his ends
As is the morn-dew on the myrtle-leaf
To his grand sea.

Be't so: declare thine office.

Lord of his fortunes he salutes thee, and
Requires to live in Egypt: which not granted,
He lessens his requests; and to thee sues
To let him breathe between the heavens and earth,
A private man in Athens: this for him.
Next, Cleopatra does confess thy greatness;
Submits her to thy might; and of thee craves
The circle of the Ptolemies for her heirs,
Now hazarded to thy grace.

For Antony,
I have no ears to his request. The queen
Of audience nor desire shall fail, so she
From Egypt drive her all-disgraced friend,
Or take his life there: this if she perform,
She shall not sue unheard. So to them both.

Fortune pursue thee!

Bring him through the bands.
Exit EUPHRONIUS
To THYREUS
From Antony win Cleopatra: promise,
And in our name, what she requires; add more,
From thine invention, offers: women are not
In their best fortunes strong; but want will perjure
The ne'er touch'd vestal: try thy cunning, Thyreus;
Make thine own edict for thy pains, which we
Will answer as a law.

Caesar, I go.

Observe how Antony becomes his flaw,
And what thou think'st his very action speaks
In every power that moves.

Caesar, I shall.
Exeunt

Enter CLEOPATRA, DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS, CHARMIAN, and IRAS

What shall we do, Enobarbus?

Think, and die.

Is Antony or we in fault for this?

Antony only, that would make his will
Lord of his reason. What though you fled
From that great face of war, whose several ranges
Frighted each other? why should he follow?
The itch of his affection should not then
Have nick'd his captainship; at such a point,
When half to half the world opposed, he being
The meered question: 'twas a shame no less
Than was his loss, to course your flying flags,
And leave his navy gazing.

Prithee, peace.
Enter MARK ANTONY with EUPHRONIUS, the Ambassador

Is that his answer?

Ay, my lord.

The queen shall then have courtesy, so she
Will yield us up.

He says so.

Let her know't.
To the boy Caesar send this grizzled head,
And he will fill thy wishes to the brim
With principalities.

That head, my lord?

To him again: tell him he wears the rose
Of youth upon him; from which the world should note
Something particular: his coin, ships, legions,
May be a coward's; whose ministers would prevail
Under the service of a child as soon
As i' the command of Caesar: I dare him therefore
To lay his gay comparisons apart,
And answer me declined, sword against sword,
Ourselves alone. I'll write it: follow me.
Exeunt MARK ANTONY and EUPHRONIUS

[Aside] Yes, like enough, high-battled Caesar will
Unstate his happiness, and be staged to the show,
Against a sworder! I see men's judgments are
A parcel of their fortunes; and things outward
Do draw the inward quality after them,
To suffer all alike. That he should dream,
Knowing all measures, the full Caesar will
Answer his emptiness! Caesar, thou hast subdued
His judgment too.
Enter an Attendant

A messenger from CAESAR.

What, no more ceremony? See, my women!
Against the blown rose may they stop their nose
That kneel'd unto the buds. Admit him, sir.
Exit Attendant

[Aside] Mine honesty and I begin to square.
The loyalty well held to fools does make
Our faith mere folly: yet he that can endure
To follow with allegiance a fall'n lord
Does conquer him that did his master conquer
And earns a place i' the story.
Enter THYREUS

Caesar's will?

Hear it apart.

None but friends: say boldly.

So, haply, are they friends to Antony.

He needs as many, sir, as Caesar has;
Or needs not us. If Caesar please, our master
Will leap to be his friend: for us, you know,
Whose he is we are, and that is, Caesar's.

So.
Thus then, thou most renown'd: Caesar entreats,
Not to consider in what case thou stand'st,
Further than he is Caesar.

Go on: right royal.

He knows that you embrace not Antony
As you did love, but as you fear'd him.

O!

The scars upon your honour, therefore, he
Does pity, as constrained blemishes,
Not as deserved.

He is a god, and knows
What is most right: mine honour was not yielded,
But conquer'd merely.

[Aside] To be sure of that,
I will ask Antony. Sir, sir, thou art so leaky,
That we must leave thee to thy sinking, for
Thy dearest quit thee.
Exit

Shall I say to Caesar
What you require of him? for he partly begs
To be desired to give. It much would please him,
That of his fortunes you should make a staff
To lean upon: but it would warm his spirits,
To hear from me you had left Antony,
And put yourself under his shrowd,
The universal landlord.

What's your name?

My name is Thyreus.

Most kind messenger,
Say to great Caesar this: in deputation
I kiss his conquering hand: tell him, I am prompt
To lay my crown at 's feet, and there to kneel:
Tell him from his all-obeying breath I hear
The doom of Egypt.

'Tis your noblest course.
Wisdom and fortune combating together,
If that the former dare but what it can,
No chance may shake it. Give me grace to lay
My duty on your hand.

Your Caesar's father oft,
When he hath mused of taking kingdoms in,
Bestow'd his lips on that unworthy place,
As it rain'd kisses.
Re-enter MARK ANTONY and DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS

Favours, by Jove that thunders!
What art thou, fellow?

One that but performs
The bidding of the fullest man, and worthiest
To have command obey'd.

[Aside] You will be whipp'd.

Approach, there! Ah, you kite! Now, gods
and devils!
Authority melts from me: of late, when I cried 'Ho!'
Like boys unto a muss, kings would start forth,
And cry 'Your will?' Have you no ears? I am
Antony yet.
Enter Attendants
Take hence this Jack, and whip him.

[Aside] 'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp
Than with an old one dying.

Moon and stars!
Whip him. Were't twenty of the greatest tributaries
That do acknowledge Caesar, should I find them
So saucy with the hand of she here,--what's her name,
Since she was Cleopatra? Whip him, fellows,
Till, like a boy, you see him cringe his face,
And whine aloud for mercy: take him hence.

Mark Antony!

Tug him away: being whipp'd,
Bring him again: this Jack of Caesar's shall
Bear us an errand to him.
Exeunt Attendants with THYREUS
You were half blasted ere I knew you: ha!
Have I my pillow left unpress'd in Rome,
Forborne the getting of a lawful race,
And by a gem of women, to be abused
By one that looks on feeders?

Good my lord,--

You have been a boggler ever:
But when we in our viciousness grow hard--
O misery on't!--the wise gods seel our eyes;
In our own filth drop our clear judgments; make us
Adore our errors; laugh at's, while we strut
To our confusion.

O, is't come to this?

I found you as a morsel cold upon
Dead Caesar's trencher; nay, you were a fragment
Of Cneius Pompey's; besides what hotter hours,
Unregister'd in vulgar fame, you have
Luxuriously pick'd out: for, I am sure,
Though you can guess what temperance should be,
You know not what it is.

Wherefore is this?

To let a fellow that will take rewards
And say 'God quit you!' be familiar with
My playfellow, your hand; this kingly seal
And plighter of high hearts! O, that I were
Upon the hill of Basan, to outroar
The horned herd! for I have savage cause;
And to proclaim it civilly, were like
A halter'd neck which does the hangman thank
For being yare about him.