Antony and Cleopatra | Page 7

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 foils
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.]
LEPIDUS.
Here's more news.
MESSENGER.
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 belov'd of those
That only have
fear'd Caesar: to the ports
The discontents repair, and men's reports

Give him much wrong'd.
CAESAR.
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 lov'd 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.
MESSENGER.
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.
CAESAR.
Antony,
Leave thy lascivious wassails. When thou once

Was 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.
LEPIDUS.
'Tis pity of him.
CAESAR.
Let his shames quickly
Drive him to Rome; 'tis time we
twain
Did show ourselves i' thefield; and to that end
Assemble we
immediate council: Pompey
Thrives in our idleness.
LEPIDUS.
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.
CAESAR.
Till which encounter
It is my business too. Farewell.
LEPIDUS.
Farewell, my lord: what you shall know meantime
Of
stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir,
To let me be partaker.
CAESAR.
Doubt not, sir;
I knew it for my bond.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE V. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.
[Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN.]
CLEOPATRA.
Charmian,--
CHARMIAN.
Madam?

CLEOPATRA.
Ha, ha!--
Give me to drink mandragora.
CHARMIAN.
Why, madam?
CLEOPATRA.
That I might sleep out this great gap of time
My
Antony is away.
CHARMIAN.
You think of him too much.
CLEOPATRA.
O, 'tis treason!
CHARMIAN.
Madam, I trust, not so.
CLEOPATRA.
Thou, eunuch Mardian!
MARDIAN.
What's your highness' pleasure?
CLEOPATRA.
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?
MARDIAN.
Yes, gracious madam.
CLEOPATRA.
Indeed!
MARDIAN.
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.
CLEOPATRA.
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
wott'st thou whom thou mov'st?
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.]
ALEXAS.
Sovereign of Egypt, hail!
CLEOPATRA.
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?
ALEXAS.
Last thing he did, dear queen,
He kiss'd,--the last of
many doubled kisses,--
This orient pearl: his speech sticks in my
heart.
CLEOPATRA.
Mine ear must pluck it thence.
ALEXAS.
'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