Enobarbus.
How now, friend Eros?
Where is Marc Antony?
He's walking in the garden.
There's hard news come with this.
He will desire you presently.
I'll bring you to him.
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 Belov'd.
Then must thou needs find out new heaven, new earth.
Nay, but this dotage of our general's o'erflows the measure:
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.
You shall see in him,
the triple pillar of the world transform "d into a strumpet" s fool.
Laughter
News, my good lord, from Rome.
What news from Rome?
Let Rome in tiber melt and the wide arch of the rang'd empire fall!
Here is my space.
Kingdoms are Clay.
Our dungy earth alike feeds beasts as man.
The nobleness of life is to do thus.
Speak not to us.
Is Caesar with Marc Antony prized so slight?
Sir, sometimes when he is not Antony
he comes too short of that great quality
which still should go with Antony.
Alexas,
sweet alexas,
where's the soothsayer that you prais'd so to the queen?
Soothsayer!
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.
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.
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, then marry me with octavius Caesar
and companion me with my mistress.
You shall outlive the lady whom you serve.
Excellent.
I love long life better than figs.
You have seen and prov'd a fairer former fortune
than that which is to come.
Out, fool!
I forgive thee for a witch.
Then?
Fulvia your wife first came into the field.
Against my brother Lucius?
And then they joined their forces against Caesar,
who soon from Italy drove 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 lonia.
Whilst...
Antony, you would say.
- My lord. - Speak to me home.
Mince not the general tongue.
Name Cleopatra as she is call'd in Rome.
Taunt me with fulvia's phrase!
From sicyon how's the news?
Sir,
the lady fulvia, your wife...
Is dead.
- Where died she? - In sicyon.
Fare thee well awhile.
There's a great spirit gone.
Thus did I desire it.
What our contempt doth often hurl from us,
we wish it ours again.
She's good being gone.
I must from this enchanting queen break off.
I lose myself in dotage.
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 death commits some loving act upon her,
she hath such a celerity in dying.
She is cunning past man's thought.
Alack, sir, no,
her passions are made of nothing but pure love.
We cannot call her winds and waters sighs and tears;
they are greater storms and tempests than almanacs can report.
Would I had never seen her.
O, sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece of work.
Fulvia is dead.
Sir?
My wife is dead.
Fulvia?
Dead.
Why, sir,
give the gods a thankful sacrifice.
If there were no more women but fulvia,
then had you indeed a cut, and the case to be lamented.
This grief is crown'd with consolation.
The business she has broach'd with this in Rome
cannot endure my absence.
And the business you have broach'd here
cannot be without you,
especially that of Cleopatra's,
which wholly depends on your presence.
No more light answers.
For not alone the death of fulvia,
but letters too from Rome petition us at home.
Much is breeding.
Sextus pompeius has given the dare to Caesar
and commands the empire of the sea.
The side o' the world's in danger.
Let our officers have notice of our purpose.
Now you see, lepidus.
From Alexandria this is the news.
He fishes, drinks
and wastes the lamps of night in revel.
Hardly gave audience or stop to think he had partners.
You shall find there
a man who is the sum of all men's faults.
Nobla octavius!
His faults in him seem as the stars in heaven.
More fiery by night's blackness.
Hereditary rather than purchas'd what he cannot change
than what he chooses.
You are too indulgent.
Let's Grant it is not amiss to roll in Cleopatra's bed.
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 with knaves that smell of sweat.
Say this becomes him,
as his composure must be rare indeed whom these things cannot blemish.
Yet,
must this in no way excuse his foils
when we do bear so great weight in his lightness.
Here's more news.
Your biddings have been done, most noble Caesar.
Pompey is strong at sea,
and it appears he is Belov'd of those that only have fear'd Caesar.
I should have known no less.
No vessel can peep forth,
but 'tis as soon taken as seen!
Pompey's name strikes more than could his war resisted.
Antony,
leave your lascivious wassails.
When he once was beaten from modena,
at his heels did famine follow.
He did drink the stale of horses
and the gilded puddle that beasts would cough at.
And all this was borne still like a soldier
with Patience more than savages could suffer.
'Tis pity of him.
Let his shames quickly drive him to Rome.
'Tis time we both did show ourselves I' the field.
Pompey thrives in our idleness.
Tomorrow, Caesar, I shall be able to inform you rightly
both what by sea and land...
Till which encounter, it is my business too.
Farewell.
Farewell, my lord!
If the great gods be just,
they shall assist the deeds of justest men.
No, worthy pompey, they'll not deny you.
I shall do well.
The people love me,
and the sea is mine;
my powers are Crescent.
Mark Antony in Egypt sits at dinner,
and will make no wars outdoors.
Caesar gets money where he loses hearts.
Lepidus flatters both,
but neither cares for him.
Caesar and lepidus are in the field.
A mighty strength they carry.
Here 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
tie up the libertine in a field of feasts.
Keep his brain fuming.
- Let Cleopatra sharpen his appetite. - Man: Pompey!
Pompey!
How now, varrius?
This is most certain, sir!
Mark Antony is every hour in Rome expected.
Menas, I did not think this amorous lecher
would have donn'd his helm for such a petty war.
His soldiership is twice the other twain.
So our stirring can from the lap of Egypt's widow
pluck the ne'er-lust-wearied Antony.
I cannot think Caesar and Antony shall well agree together.
His wife that's dead did trespasses to Caesar.
His brother warr'd upon him.
I know not, menas.
Were't not that we stand up against them all,
'twere plain they'd draw their swords between themselves.
Good enobarbus,
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.
Your speech is passion.
But, pray you, stir no embers up.
Welcome to Rome.
Thank you.
Sit.
Sit, sir.
Nay, then.
I learn you take thingsiill which are not so,
or, being, concern you not.
I must be laugh'd at if but for nothing or a little,
I should say myself offended,
and with you chiefly I' the world
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.
Your wife and brother made wars upon me.
And you were the word of war.
You do mistake your business.
My brother made his wars alike against us both.
Of this, my letters before did satisfy you.
If you'll patch a quarrel, it must not be with this.
You patch'd up your excuses.
Not so, not so.
I'm your partner in this cause.
You have broken the article of your oath
soft, Caesar.
Which you shall never have tongue to charge me with.
- Caesar. - Antony: No, lepidus. Let him speak.
The honour is sacred which he talks on now,
supposing that I lack'd it.
On Caesar,
the article of my oath.
To lend me arms and aid when I requir'd them,
to which you both denied.
Neglected, rather.
Truth is my wife to have me out of Egypt made these wars here.
For which, I do herewith ask pardon,
on my honour.
Nobly spoken.
If it might please you,
enforce no further the griefs between ye.
Forget them quiet.
For't cannot be we shall remain in friendship.
Yet, if I knew what bond would hold us staunch
from edge to edge o' the world,
I would pursue it.
Give me leave, Caesar.
Speak, agrippa.
You have a sister by the mother's side,
admir'd octavia.
Great Marc Antony is now a widower.
Say not so, agrippa.
If Cleopatra heard you,
your reproof were well deserv'd of rashness.
I'm 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.
Her beauty claims no less a husband than the best of men.
Her virtue and her general graces speak that which none else can utter.
By this marriage,
all little jealousies which now seem great
would then be nothing.
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.
From this hour,
the hearts of brothers govern in our loves,
and sway our great designs.
Let me have your hand.
There's 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's laid great courtesies of late upon me.
Time calls upon's.
Of us must pompey presently be sought,
or else he seeks out us.
Where lies he?
About the mount misena.
What is his strength?
By land? Great and increasing;
but by sea he is an absolute master.
Would we had spoke together!
Haste we for it.
Yet, ere we put ourselves in arms,
let's finish the business we have spoke of.
With most gladness,
and do invite you to my sister's view,
whither straight I'll lead you.
Good, enobarbus. Welcome from Egypt, sir.
Honorable agrippa.
If beauty, wisdom, modesty
can settle the heart of Antony,
octavia is a blessed lottery to him.
Charmian!
Madam?
Give me to drink mandragora.
Why, madam?
That I may sleep out this great gap of time my Antony is away.
You think of him too much.
0, 'tis treason!
Madam, I trust not so.
You, eunuch mardian.
What's your highness' pleasure?
Not now to hear you sing.
I take no pleasure in what an eunuch has.
Have you affections?
Yes, gracious madam.
Indeed?
Not in deed, for I can do nothing.
Yet have I fierce affections
and think what Venus did with Mars.
O, charmian.
Where think you 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 know you whom you move?
The Demi-atlas of this earth.
So we shall...
So we shall talk before we fight?
Most meet that first we come to words.
So let us know if you'll tie up your discontented 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.
This it is has made me rig my Navy.
I mean to scourge the ingratitude
that despiteful Rome cast on my noble father.
Be pleas'd to tell us...
For this is from the present...
How you take the offers we have sent you.
There's the point.
You have made me offer of sicily, sardinia.
And I must rid the sea of pirates.
Then to send measures of wheat to Rome.
This 'greed upon to part with unhack'd swords.
That's our offer.
Know, then,
I came before you here a man prepar'd to take this offer.
But Mark Antony has put me to some impatience!
Though I lose the praise of it by telling,
when Caesar and your brother were at war,
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've never thought, sir, to have met you here.
The beds I' the east are soft,
but thanks to you who call'd me sooner than my purpose here,
- for I have gain'd by it. - Well met here.
I hope so, lepidus.
Thus we are agreed.
We'll feast each other ere we part,
and let's draw lots who shall begin.
But, first or last, your fine Egyptian cookery shall have the fame.
I have heard that Julius Caesar grew fat with feasting there.
You have heard much, sir.
I have fair meanings, sir.
And I have heard apollodorus carried-
a certain queen to Caesar in a mattress.
I know you! How goes it, soldier?
I never hated you.
I have seen you fight when I have envied your behavior.
Sir, I never lov'd you much, but I have prais'd you.
Aboard my galley, I invite you all.
Will you come, lords?
We came hither to fight with you.
For my part, I am sorry it is turned to a drinking.
Pompey does this day laugh away his fortune.
If he do, sure he cannot weep't back again.
Y'have 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.
I would not prophesy so.
Octavia is of a holy,
cold and still conversation.
Who would not have his wife so?
Not Mark Antony.
He will to his Egyptian dish again.
And thus it may be.
Come, sir.
Will you aboard?
Thus do they, sir.
They take the flow o' the nile by certain scales I' the pyramid...
What manner o' thing is your crocodile?
A toast to lepidus!
- Lepidus. - Lepidus.
Pompey, a word.
Well, say in mine ear, what is't?
Forsake your seat, I do beseech you captain,
and hear me speak a word.
Forbear me till anon.
Here's to Caesar.
I could well forbear't.
Go hang, sir, hang.
Away.
If for the sake of merit you will hear me,
rise from your couch.
I think you're mad.
Will you be lord of all the world?
What say you?
Will you be lord of the whole world?
That's twice.
Show me which way.
These three world-sharers,
these competitors,
are in your vessel.
Let me cut the cable.
And when we are put off,
fall to their throats.
All there is yours.
Ah, this you should have done and not have spoken.
In me tis villainy;
in you 't had been good service.
Being done unknown,
I should have found it afterwards well done.
But must condemn it now.
Desist and drink.
I'll pledge it for him, pompey.
Bear him away!
Ha, my brave emperor.
We shall dance now your Egyptian bacchanal.
Let's have it then, good soldier.
Good Antony, the emperor!
Queen Cleopatra!
What, would you more?
Good brother, let's ashore.
I'll try you on shore.
Good night.
Come, sir. Give us your hand.
Oh, Antony, we are friends.
Come down into the boat.
Take heed you fall not!
Lapidus!
Farewell to these great fellows.
Lapidus.
Sound and be hang'd.
Noble captain, come!
Give me some music.
The music.
Music,
moody food of us that trade in love.
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.
I'll none now.
We'll to the river.
There, my music playing far off
I will betray tawny-finned fishes.
And as I draw them up I'll think them every one an Antony,
and say: "Aha! Y'are caught.”
'Twas merry when you wager'd on your angling;
when your diver did place a salt fish on his hook,
which he with fervency drew up.
That time?
O times!
O from Italy!
Madam, madam...
Antony dead?
If you say so, villain, you kill your mistress.
But well and free, if so thou yield him, there is gold.
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!
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 and not captive to him...
Madam, he's well.
Well said!
And friends with Caesar.
Th' art 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”.
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.
Madam,
he's married to octavia.
The most infectious pestilence upon thee!
Good madam, Patience!
What say you? Hence, horrible villain,
I'll unhair thy head!
Thou shalt be whipp'd with wire and stew'd in brine!
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.
He's married, madam.
Rogue,
thou hast Liv'd too long!
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.
These hands do lack nobility
that they strike a meaner than myself.
Come hither, sir.
Though it be honest,
it is never good to bring bad news.
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?
Madam, should I lie?
O, I would thou didst,
so half my Egypt were submerg'd
and made a cistern for scal'd shakes!
- Get thee hence. - I crave your highness' pardon.
He's married?
Madam...
He's married to octavia.
Get thee gone.
The merchandise which thou hast brought from Rome
is all too dear for me.
0, iras.
Charmian.
'Tis no matter.
Go to the fellow, good alexas.
Bid him report the feature of octavia,
her years,
let him not leave out the colour of her hair.
Bring me word quickly.
Let him forever go.
Let him not.
Mardian, go tell alexas.
Bring me word how tall she is.
Madam.
In praising Antony,
I have dispraised Caesar.
Many times, madam.
I am paid for 't now.
You take from me a great part of myself.
Use me well in 't.
Sister,
prove such a wife as my thoughts make you.
The jove of power make me,
most weak, your reconciler.
Wars 'twixt you twain would be as if the world should cleave.
Antony.
Far better might we two have lov'd without this mean,
if by us both she be not Cherish'd.
Make me not offended in your distrust.
I have said.
So.
Well, are the brothers parted?
They have dispatch"d with pompey; He is gone.
We are for Athens.
Octavia weeps to part from Rome.
Caesar is sad,
and lepidus, since pompey's feast,
is troubled with the green-sickness.
No further, sir.
So the gods keep you,
and make the hearts of romans serve your ends.
Farewell, my dearest sister, fare you well.
The elements be kind to you.
My noble brother.
The April's in her eyes.
Itis love's spring, and these the showers to bring it on.
No, sweet octavia, you shall hear from me still.
Be cheerful!
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.
Where is the fellow?
Half afeard to come.
Go to, go to.
Come hither, sir.
Come you near.
Most gracious majesty.
Did you 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-tongu'd or low?
Madam, I heard her speak.
She is low-voic'd.
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 you looked on majesty.
She creeps.
- 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.
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?
Blond... brown, madam.
And her forehead as low as she would wish it.
There's gold for thee.
Thou must not take my former sharpnessiill.
I will employ thee back again.
I find thee most fit for business.
Go, make thee ready. Our letters are prepar'd.
A proper man.
Indeed he is so.
Why, methinks, by him, this creature's nothing.
Nothing, madam.
The man hath seen some majesty, and should know.
Hath he seen majesty?
Isis else defend, and serving you so long.
All may be well enough.
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.
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, sir.
Good night, dear lady.
Cleopatra: 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.
Soothsayer: And marry many times.
Now, sirrah, you do wish yourself in Egypt?
Would I had never come from thence...
Nor you.
Hie you to Egypt again.
Say to me whose fortunes shall rise higher,
Caesar's or mine?
Caesar's.
Antony, stay not by his side.
Thy spirit is high, unmatchable, where Caesar's is not.
But near him, thy angel becomes afeard, 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.
I say...
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.
He has spoken true,
the very dice obey him,
and in our sports my better cunning fails under his chance.
Ventidius!
If I lose mine honour, I lose myself.
Sir.
You must to parthia! Your commission's ready.
My purposes do draw me much about. You'll win two days upon me.
Sir, good success.
Though I make this marriage for my peace,
in the east my pleasure lies.
You stayed well by it in Egypt.
Ay, sir, we did.
Eight wild boars roasted whole at breakfast
and but twelve persons there?
We had much more.
The rare Egyptian.
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 cydnus?
There she appeared in triumph.
I'll 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,
and 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 description:
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 adorings.
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, enthron'd I' the market-place,
did sit alone,
whistling to the air;
which, but for vacancy, had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too,
and left a gap in nature.
O, royal wench.
She made great Caesar lay his sword to bed.
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 wanton.
Lord of lords.
Com'st thou smiling from the world's great snare uncaught?
O thou day o' the world.
Leap thou to my heart.
Octavia!
Octavia.
That ever I should call thee a castaway.
You have not call'd me so,
nor have you cause.
Caesar's sister:
The wife of Antony is come a market-maid to Rome.
- Good, my lord. - My dearest sister,
the adulterous Antony has turned you off.
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 has nodded him to her.
In contempt of Rome he's done all this and more.
In Alexandria in the market-place,
Cleopatra and himself in chairs of gold
were publicly enthron"d.
Unto her he gave the stablishment of Egypt,
made her absolute queen.
This in the public eye?
I' the common show-place, where they exercise.
- Let Rome be thus inform'd. - The people know it.
And have now receiv'd his accusations.
Who does he accuse?
Caesar.
For having pompey slain in sicily.
We had not given him his share.
Then does he say, he lend me shipping unrestor'd.
Lastly, he frets that lepidus should be depose'd,
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: For what I have conquer'd,
I Grant him part; But in his conquer'd kingdoms,
I demand the like.
He'll never yield to that.
Nor must not then be yielded to in this.
He has given his empire up to a whore.
Now, world,
you have a pair of wolves no more.
And throw between them all the food you have,
the one will tear the other.
I will be even with thee, doubt it not.
Why?
You're against my being in these wars.
You say it is not fit.
Well, is it?
- Is it? - Is't not denounc'd against us?
Why should not we be there in person?
Your presence needs must puzzle Antony,
take from his heart, take from his brain,
from's time, what should not then be spar'd.
'Tis said in Rome that mardian,
the eunuch, and your maids manage this war.
Sink Rome, and their tongues rot that speak against us!
A charge we bear in the war,
and as the ruler 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.
Is it not strange, canidius,
that from tarentum and brundusium
he could so quickly cut the lonian sea,
and take in toryne? You have heard on't, sweet?
Celerity is never more admir'd than by the negligent.
A good rebuke, which might have well become 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 had my lord dar'd him to single fight.
Aye,
and to wage this battle at pharsalia,
where Caesar fought with pompey.
But these offers, which serve not for his vantage,
he shakes off; And so should you.
Your ships are not well mann'd,
your mariners are teamsters.
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 prepar'd for land.
By sea, by sea.
Most worthy sir, you therein throw away the absolute soldiership
you have by land.
Distract your army of war-Mark'd footmen;
quite forego your own renowned knowledge,
and give yourself to chance.
I'll fight at sea.
I have sixty sails, Caesar none better.
If we should fail, we then can do't on land.
Canidius, our nineteen legions you shall hold by land,
and our twelve thousand horse.
We'll to our ship.
How now, soldier?
Emperor, do not fight by sea.
Trust not to rotten planks.
Do you misdoubt this sword?
Let the Egyptians and the phoenicians go a-ducking;
we have us'd to conquer standing on the earth,
and fighting foot to foot.
Well, well, away.
By Hercules,
I think I am I' the right.
Soldier, thou art.
But our leader's led,
and we are women's men.
Agrippa.
My lord?
Strike not by land,
keep whole,
provoke not battle, till we have done at sea.
Do not exceed the prescript of this scroll.
Our fortune lies upon this jump.
Man: Heave to.
Hold.
Fire!
They've boarded us!
Retire! We have engag'd ourselves too far!
The Egyptian queen flies!
Attach the rudder!
Retire.
Retire!
Naught.
All naught.
Do not fight by sea.
Our fortune on the sea is out of breath!
Gods and goddesses.
The greater part of the world is lost.
We have kiss'd away kingdoms and provinces.
How appears the fight?
On our side like the token'd pestilence,
where death is sure.
That ribald hag of Egypt...
Whom leprosy o'er take... I' the midst o' the fight,
the breeze upon her,
like a cow in June,
hoists sails and flies.
That I beheld. And sickened at the sight.
The noble Antony
claps on his sea wings
and like a doting Mallard
leaving the fight in height
flies after her!
I never saw an action of such shame!
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 of our flight,
most grossly, by his own!
Ay, are you thereabouts?
Why, then, good night indeed.
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.
The land bids me tread no more upon't.
It is asham'd to bear me.
I've lost my way for ever.
Leave me.
Fly.
And make your peace with Caesar.
Fly? Not I.
Be gone!
No, no.
See you here, sir?
Gods, gods, gods.
- Madam. - Madam.
Good empress.
Sir.
Sir, the queen.
I have offended reputation.
My lord.
Whiter hast thou lead me, Egypt?
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.
Thou knew'St.
Thy call 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 pleas'd,
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.
O, my pardon.
Pardon.
Fall not a tear, I say.
One of them rates all that is won and lost:
Come, give me a kiss.
Even this repays me.
Love, I am full of lead.
Some wine here, Eros!
Fortune knows we scorn her most
when most she offers blows.
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 of his wing.
He had superfluous kings for messengers,
not many moons gone by.
Approach and speak.
Such as I am,
I... 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.
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.
For Antony, I have no ears to his requests.
The queen of audience nor desire shall fail,
so she from Egypt drive her all-disgrac'd friend,
or take his life there.
So to them both.
Thidias.
Thidias!
Thidias, now 'tis time, dispatch.
From Antony win Cleopatra,
promise, and in our name, what she requires; Add more,
as thine invention offers.
Women are not in their best fortunes strong;
but want will perjure the ne'er touch'd virgin:
Try thy cunning, thidias.
What shall we do, enobarbus?
Think and die.
Is Antony or we at fault in this?
Antony only.
That would make his will lord of his reason.
What though you fled from that great face of war,
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 oppos'd,
he being the sole question.
'Twas a shame no less than was his loss,
to course your flying flags,
and leave his Navy gazing.
- Prithee, peace. - 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 declin'd,
sword against sword, ourselves alone.
I'll write it. Follow me.
Yes...
Like enough.
High-battled Caesar will unstate his happiness,
and be stag'd to the show, against a swordsman.
Caesar...
You have subdued his judgment too.
Charmian: Madam.
A messenger from Caesar.
What, no more ceremony?
See, my charmian?
Against the blown Rose may they stop their nose
that kneel'd unto the bud.
Admit him, then.
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.
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.
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 embrac'd not Antony, as you did love,
but as you fear'd him.
Oh.
The scars upon your honour, therefore, he does pity,
as constrain'd blemishes,
not as deserv'd.
He is a god,
and knows what is most right.
Mine honour was not yielded, but...
Conquer'd merely.
To be sure of that, I will ask Antony.
Shall I say to Caesar what you require of him?
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 thidias.
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.
Give me grace to lay my duty on your hand.
Your Caesar's father oft,
when he hath mus'd of taking kingdoms in,
bestow'd his lips on that unworthy place.
Approach there.
What are you, fellow?
One that but performs the bidding of the fullest man,
and worthiest to have command obey'd.
You will be whipp'd.
You dog!
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.
Take hence this Jack, and whip him.
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.
- Mark Antony! - Take him away!
- Mark Antony! - Being whipp'd, bring him again.
This Jack of Caesar's shall bear us an errand to him.
You were half blasted ere I knew you.
Have I my pillow left unpress'd in Rome,
to be abus'd by one that plays with jackals?
- Good my lord. - You have been a boggler ever.
I found you as a morsel,
cold upon dead Caesar's trencher;
nay, you were a fragment of gnaeus pompey's;
besides what hotter hours, unregister'd in vulgar fame,
you have luxuriously pick'd out. “Wherefore is this?
To let a fellow that will take rewards,
and say “god quit you!” be familiar with my playfellow,
your hand!
Is he whipp'd?
Soundly, my lord.
Cried he? And begg'd a pardon?
He did ask favour.
If that your father live,
let him repent you were not made his daughter,
and be you sorry to follow Caesar in his triumph,
since you have been whipp'd for it.
Henceforth the white hand of a lady fever you,
shake you to look on 't.
Get you back to Caesar,
tell him your entertainment:
Look, you say he makes me angry with him.
For he seems proud and disdainful,
harping on what I am,
not what he knew I was.
He makes me angry!
And at this time most easy 'tis to do't,
when my good stars, that were my former guides,
have empty left their orbs,
and shot their fires into the abysm of hell.
Be gone!
Have you done yet?
To flatter Caesar,
would you mingle eyes with that?
Cold-hearted toward me?
From my cold heart let heaven engender hail.
Let the first stone dissolve my life.
Together with my brave Egyptians.
All, lie graveless,
till the flies and gnats of nile have buried them for prey!
I am satisfied.
Caesar comes near to Alexandria,
where I will oppose his fate.
Our force by land has nobly held,
our shatter'd Navy too has knit again,
and sails, threatening most sea-like.
Where hast thou been, my heart?
Dost thou hear, lady?
If from the field I shall return once more to kiss these lips,
I will appear in blood,
I and my sword will earn our chronicle:
We'll beat them to their beds!
What, girl,
though grey do something mingle with our younger brown,
yet can we still get goal for goal of youth.
There's hope in't yet.
That's my brave lord.
Let's have one other gaudy night.
Call to me all my sad captains,
fill our bowls once more.
Let's mock the midnight bell.
We will yet do well.
Come on, my queen.
There's sap in't yet.
The next time I do fight, I'll make death love me.
Now he'll outstare the lightning.
To be furious, is to be frighted out of fear;
and in that mood the dove will peck the falcon;
and I see still, a diminution in our captain's brain
restores his heart.
When valour preys on reason,
it eats the sword it fights with.
I must seek some way to leave him.
He calls me boy, and chides,
as he had power to beat me out of Egypt.
He dares me to personal combat,
Caesar to Antony.
Let the old ruffian know I have many other ways to die.
When one so great begins to rage,
he's hunted even to falling.
Give him no breath.
Let our best heads know,
that tomorrow the last of many battles we mean to fight.
Within our files there are,
of those that serv'd Mark Antony but late,
enough to fetch him in.
See it done, and feast the army.
There's food to do't, and they have earn'd the waste.
Poor Antony.
Enobarbus?
Sir?
He will not fight with me, old friend.
Why should he not?
He is twenty men to one.
Tomorrow, soldier, we'll fight by land.
I'll live,
or bathe my dying honour in the blood shall make it live again.
Will you fight well?
I'll strike,
and cry “take all”.
Well said.
Come, give me your hand.
You have been rightly honest;
so you have, you have serv'd me well,
and kings have been your fellows.
What you mean, sir?
To make your followers weep?
Good friend, good night.
Tomorrow is the day.
'Tis well blown, lads.
You that will fight, follow me close,
I'll bring you to't.
Call for enobarbus.
Sir,
he shall not hear me.
What say you?
He is with Caesar.
Sir,
his chests and treasure he has not with him.
Is he gone?
Most certain.
Go, Eros,
send his treasure after,
do it; Detain no jot,
I charge you:
Write to him... I will subscribe...
Gentle adieus and greetings;
say I wish he never find more cause to change a master.
Dispatch.
My fortunes have corrupted honest men.
Enobarbus...
He goes forth gallantly.
That he and Caesar might determine this great war in single fight.
Then Antony.
But now...
Go forth, agrippa, and begin the fight:
Our will is Antony be took alive.
Make it so known.
Caesar, I shall.
The time of universal peace is near.
Prove this a prosperous day,
the three-nook'd world shall bear the olive freely.
Mark Antony I serv'd.
He was my master.
If it please you to take me to you,
as I was to him,
so I'll be to you.
Enobarbus,
Antony has after you sent all your treasure.
The messenger is at our tents e'en now,
unloading of his mules.
I give it you. Mock not, enobarbus,
I tell you true.
Enobarbus: I am alone, the villain of the earth.
Tomorrow, soldier, we'll fight by land.
O, Antony,
I fight against you?
You have been rightly honest.
No.
You've serv'd me well.
I will go seek some ditch, where in to die.
Forgive me in thine own particular.
But let the world rank me in register...
A master-leaver and a fugitive.
Antony.
Antony!
O, this is fought indeed.
They're beaten, sir!
I would they'ld fight I' the fire or I' the air,
we'd fight there too.
Look, emperor! They fall upon us there!
Ready then. Prepare.
Be quick, scarus.
See Antony be took alive!
Antony be took alive!
That foul Egyptian has betrayed me!
They've yielded!
Hold!
Shoot!
Agrippa: Antony!
Yield, Mark Antony!
The day is ours!
That foul Egyptian has betrayed me!
Triple turned whore!
'Tis thou hast sold me to this novice!
O Cleopatra!
My heart makes only wars on thee!
Ah, thou spell is come to this?
The hearts that spaniel'd me at heel,
to whom I gave their wishes,
melt on blossoming Caesar.
Bid them all fly!
Why is my lord enraged?
I'll give thee thy deserving.
Follow Caesar's chariot.
Let him hoist thee up!
Help me, my women! Help me!
Madam. Madam.
O, he's mad.
To the Roman boy she has sold me and I fall under her plot!
She dies for it!
He's mad.
To the monument.
There lock yourself and send him word you are dead.
Mardian...
Go tell him I have slain myself.
Say that the last I spoke was “Antony”.
0, this false soul of Egypt.
This grave charm,
whose eye Beck'd forth my wars,
and call'd them home;
whose bosom was my crownet,
my chief end.
Like a right gipsy,
that at fast and loose,
beguil'd me to the very heart of loss.
What, Eros.
Eros!
Antony: Sometimes we see a cloud that's dragonish.
A vapour sometimes like a bear, or lion,
a tower'd citadel,
a pendent rock,
a forked mountain,
or blue promontory with trees upon't,
that nod unto the world,
and mock our eyes with air.
You have seen these signs?
They are black vesper's pageants.
My lord.
That which is now a horse,
even with a thought the wind dissolves,
and leaves it indistinct,
as water is in water.
It does, my lord.
Eros, your captain is even such a body.
Here I am, Antony, yet..
Cannot hold this visible shape,
my knave.
I made these wars for Egypt and the queen,
whose heart I thought I had,
for she had mine.
O, your vile lady.
She has robb"d me of my sword.
No, Antony.
She has betray'd me.
She shall die.
Death of one person can be paid but once.
What you would do is done.
The last she spoke was “Antony”.
Your name is buried in her.
Dead then?
Dead.
Unarm, Eros.
The long day's task is done and we must sleep.
That you depart here safe does pay your labour richly.
Go!
Off. Put off!
The seven-fold shield of ajax cannot keep the battery from my heart.
Apace, Eros, apace.
No more a soldier.
Stay awhile.
I will o'er take thee, Cleopatra,
and weep for my pardon.
So it must be,
for now all life is torture: Since the torch is out,
lie down, and stray no further.
All is done.
Eros.
I come, my queen.
Eros!
Stay for me,
where souls do couch on flowers,
we'll hand in hand,
and with our sprightly sport make the ghosts gaze:
And all the haunt be ours.
Come, Eros!
Eros.
What would my lord?
Since Cleopatra died, I have Liv'd in such dishonour,
that the gods detest my baseness.
That with my sword quarter'd the world,
and o'er green Neptune's back with ships made cities,
to condemn myself to lack the courage of a woman.
You are sworn, Eros, that when the time should come,
which now is come indeed,
on my command, you then would kill me.
Do it.
The time is come.
You strike not me,
'tis Caesar you defeat.
Put colour in your cheeks.
The gods withhold me.
Eros,
would you be taken to great Rome
and see your master thus with bound arms,
bending his neck,
before the wheel'd seat of fortunate Caesar?
- I would not see't. - Come then,
for with a wound I must be cur'd.
Now draw this sword.
O, sir, pardon me.
When I did set you free,
did you not swear to do this when I bade you?
Do it at once, or your precedent services
are all but accidents unpurpos'd.
Draw, and come.
Turn from me then that noble countenance.
So...
Eros.
My captain,
my dear master,
let me say before I strike,
farewell.
'Tis said, man.
Farewell.
Farewell,
great chief.
Shall I strike now?
Now, Eros.
Why, there then.
Thus do I escape the sorrow of Antony's death.
You teach me, Valiant Eros,
what I should, and you could not.
But I will be a bridegroom in my death,
and run into't as to a lover's bed.
Come, then;
and, Eros,
your master dies your scholar:
To do thus I learnt of you.
Not dead?
Not dead yet?
Not dead yet.
Soothsayer: Thy fortune bids thy followers fly.
Are you there, then?
Take my sword...
And give me death.
Most absolute lord,
Cleopatra sent me to thee.
When did she send you?
Now, my lord.
Where is she?
Lock'd in her monument.
She had a prophecy of what hath come to pass,
and fearing since how it might work hath sent me to proclaim the truth,
but I am come too late.
Too late.
Your star is fallen, sir.
You may not live.
Alas...
Nay, good fellow,
do not please sharp fate to grace it with your sorrow.
We welcome that which comes to punish us,
and bear it lightly.
You have my thanks for all.
O charmian,
I will never go from hence.
Be comforted, dear madam.
I will not.
Antony.
O Antony.
Antony. Antony.
I am dying, Egypt,
dying;
only I here importune death awhile,
until of many thousand kisses the poor last I lay upon thy lips.
Dear my lord, pardon.
I dare not come down,
least I be taken.
I am safe.
Help me, my women!
Come.
We must...
And welcome, welcome.
Die where thou hast Liv'd.
Quicken with kissing.
Had my lips that power, thus would I wear them out.
I am dying, Egypt.
Give me some wine,
and let me speak a little.
Of Caesar seek your honour,
with your safety.
They do not go together.
Gentle, hear me.
None about Caesar trust but proculeius.
My resolution, and my hands I'll trust.
None about Caesar.
This miserable change now at my end lament nor sorrow at;
but please your thoughts
with those my former fortunes
wherein I Liv'd, the greatest prince o' the world,
the noblest;
and do now not basely die,
not cowardly put off my helmet to my countryman.
No one but Antony did conquer Antony.
Noblest of men,
woo't die?
Hast thou no care of me?
Shall I abide in this dull world,
which in thy absence is no better than a sty?
See, my women!
The crown o' the earth doth melt.
My lord?
O, wither'd is the garland of the war,
the soldier's pole is fall'n:
Young boys and girls are level now with men;
the odds is gone,
and there is nothing left remarkable beneath the visiting moon.
Lady.
Madam.
Peace, peace, iras.
No more, but e'en a woman,
and commanded by such poor passion
as the maid that milks and does the meanest chores.
It were for me to throw my scepter at the injurious gods,
to tell them this world did equal theirs
till they had stolen our Jewel.
Ah, women, women, look.
Our lamp is spent, it's out.
Wherefore is that?
What are you?
- What you say? - I say, o Caesar,
Antony is dead.
The breaking of so great a thing would make a greater crack.
The round world would have shook lions into civil streets,
and citizens to their dens.
He is dead, Caesar.
By that same hand that writ his honour in the acts it did.
This is his sword.
Behold his blood.
Look you sad, friends.
The gods rebuke me,
but it is tidings to wash the eyes of kings.
Caesar is touch'd.
When such a spacious mirror is set before him,
he needs must see himself.
O Antony.
I have follow'd thee to this.
We could not stall together in the whole world.
Whence are you?
A poor Egyptian yet.
Queen Cleopatra, confin'd in all she has,
her monument,
of thy intents desires instructions.
She soon shall know.
Proculeius.
My desolation does begin to make a better life.
'Tis paltry to be Caesar.
Not being fortune, he's but fortune's knave.
Man: Cleopatra!
Caesar sends greetings to the queen of Egypt!
He bids you study on what fair demands
you mean to have him Grant you.
If your master would have a queen his beggar,
you must tell him I beg a kingdom.
This I'll report, dear lady.
Have comfort.
For I know your plight is pitied of him that caus'd it.
Hold, worthy lady, hold!
Do not yourself such wrong
who are in this reliev'd but not betray'd.
Come!
Where are thou death?
Come hither, and take a queen!
Temperance, lady.
Sir, I will eat no meat,
I'll not drink, sir, I'll not sleep neither.
This mortal house I'll ruin do Caesar what he can.
To Caesar I shall speak what you will please.
Say I would die.
Most noble empress,
you have heard of me.
I cannot tell.
Assuredly, you know me.
What's your name?
My name is proculeius.
Antony did tell me of you.
Bade me trust you.
I do not greatly care.
I have no use for trusting.
Madam.
No matter, sir,
what I have heard or known.
I dreamt there was an emperor Antony.
O such another sleep
that I might see but such another man.
If it might please you-
his face was as the heavens;
and therein stuck a sun and moon,
that kept their course and lighted the little o,
the earth.
Most sovereign creature-
his legs bestrid the ocean,
his rear'd arm crested the world,
his voice was propertied as all the tuned spheres,
and that to friends.
But when he meant to quail and shake the orb,
he was as rattling thunder.
For his bounty,
there was no winter in't;
an Autumn 'twas that grew the more by reaping.
In his livery walk'd crowns and crownets,
realms and islands were as plates dropp'd from his pocket.
Cleopatra.
Think you there was,
or might be, such a man as this I dreamt of?
Gentle madam, no.
You lie up to the hearing of the gods!
Hear me, good madam.
Your loss is as yourself great.
I thank you, sir.
Know you what Caesar means to do with me?
I am loath to tell you what I would you knew.
Nay, pray you, sir.
Though he be honourable...
He'll lead me then in triumph?
Madam, he will. I know't.
Itis the emperor, madam.
Which is the queen of Egypt?
Arise, you shall not kneel.
I pray you rise,
rise, Egypt.
Sir, the gods will have it thus,
my master and my lord I must obey.
Take to you no hard thoughts.
What injuries you did us,
we remember as things but done by chance.
Sole sir o' the world.
Cleopatra,
know that if you apply yourself to our intents,
which towards you are most gentle,
you shall find a benefit in this change,
but if you take Antony's course,
you shall bereave yourself of my good purposes.
I'll take my leave.
And may through all the world 'tis yours,
and we, your signs of conquest,
shall hang in what place you please.
No, dear queen.
Our care and pity is so much upon you,
that we remain your friend.
And so, adieu.
My master and my lord.
Not so, adieu.
He words me, girls,
he words me,
that I should not be noble to myself.
What think you?
You, an Egyptian puppet, will be shown in Rome,
as well as I.
Mechanic slaves with greasy aprons shall uplift us to the view.
- Good lady. - It is most certain.
Quick comedians will stage our alexandrian revels.
Antony shall be brought drunken forth,
and I shall see some squeaking Cleopatra
boy my greatness I' the posture of a whore.
I'll never see't,
for, I am sure,
my nails are stronger than mine eyes.
Why, that's the way.
Finish, good lady.
The bright day is done
and we are for the dark.
Now, charmian.
Show me my women like a queen.
Go fetch my best attires.
I am again for cydnus, to meet Mark Antony.
Good iras, go,
and when thou hast done this chore
I'll give thee leave to play till doomsday.
Bring our crown and all!
You bring me Liberty.
My resolution's placed.
Now the fleeting moon no planet is of mine.
Hast thou the pretty worm of nilus there,
that kills and pains not?
Truly,
I have him.
His biting is immortal.
Remembere'st thou any that have died on't?
Very many,
men and women too.
Indeed,
there is no goodness in the worm.
Take thou no care.
It shall be heeded.
Get thee gone.
Yes, forsooth.
Farewell.
I wish you all joy of the worm.
Give me my robe,
put on my crown,
I have immortal longings in me.
Now no more the juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip.
Methinks I hear Antony call.
I see him rouse himself to praise my noble act.
I hear him mock the luck of Caesar,
which the gods give men to excuse their after wrath.
Husband,
I come.
I am fire and air;
my other elements I give to baser life.
So,
have you done?
Come then.
Kind charmian.
Madam.
Iras.
Dost thou lie still?
Thou tell"st the world it is not worth leave-taking.
Come, thou mortal wretch.
With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate of life at once untie.
Couldst thou speak
that I might hear thee call great Caesar ass, unpolicied.
O, eastern star.
Peace, peace.
Dost thou not see my baby at my breast?
O break.
Break!
That sucks the nurse asleep?
As soft as air,
as sweet as balm,
as gentle...
O Antony.
Antony.
What? Should I stay?
In this vile world?
Now, boast thee death.
In thy possession lies a lass unparallel'd.
Thy crown's awry.
I'll mend it...
And then play.
Where is the queen?
Speak softly,
wake her not.
Caesar hath sent...
Too slow a messenger.
Dispatch.
What work is this, charmian?
Is this well done?
Itis well done and fitting for a Princess.
Soldier.
Sir, you are too sure an augurer.
That you did fear is done.
Bravest at the last,
she levell'd at our purpose and being royal took her own way.
She looks like sleep...
As she would catch another Antony in her strong toil of grace.
Take up her bed.
She shall be buried by her Antony.
No grave upon the earth shall clip in it a pair so famous.