id="id00220">   Caes You are too indulgent. Let's graunt it is not
Amisse to tumble on the bed of Ptolomy,
To giue a Kingdome for a Mirth, to sit
And keepe the turne of Tipling with a Slaue,
To reele the streets at noone, and stand the Buffet
With knaues that smels of sweate: Say this becoms him
(As his composure must be rare indeed,
Whom these things cannot blemish) yet must Anthony
No way excuse his foyles, when we do beare
So great waight in his lightnesse. If he fill'd
His vacancie with his Voluptuousnesse,
Full surfets, and the drinesse of his bones,
Call on him for't. But to confound such time,
That drummes him from his sport, and speakes as lowd
As his owne State, and ours, 'tis to be chid:
As we rate Boyes, who being mature in knowledge,
Pawne their experience to their present pleasure,
And so rebell to iudgement.
Enter a Messenger.

Lep. Heere's more newes

   Mes. Thy biddings haue beene done, & euerie houre
Most Noble Caesar, shalt thou haue report
How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at Sea,
And it appeares, he is belou'd of those
That only haue feard Caesar: to the Ports
The discontents repaire, and mens reports
Giue him much wrong'd

   Caes I should haue knowne no lesse,
It hath bin taught vs from the primall state
That he which is was wisht, vntill he were:
And the ebb'd man,
Ne're lou'd, till ne're worth loue,
Comes fear'd, by being lack'd. This common bodie,
Like to a Vagabond Flagge vpon the Streame,
Goes too, and backe, lacking the varrying tyde
To rot it selfe with motion

   Mes. Caesar I bring thee word,
Menacrates and Menas famous Pyrates
Makes the Sea serue them, which they eare and wound
With keeles of euery kinde. Many hot inrodes
They make in Italy, the Borders Maritime
Lacke blood to thinke on't, and flush youth reuolt,
No Vessell can peepe forth: but 'tis as soone
Taken as seene: for Pompeyes name strikes more
Then could his Warre resisted
  Caesar. Anthony,
Leaue thy lasciuious Vassailes. When thou once
Was beaten from Medena, where thou slew'st
Hirsius, and Pansa Consuls, at thy heele
Did Famine follow, whom thou fought'st against,
(Though daintily brought vp) with patience more
Then Sauages could suffer. Thou did'st drinke
The stale of Horses, and the gilded Puddle
Which Beasts would cough at. Thy pallat the[n] did daine
The roughest Berry, on the rudest Hedge.
Yea, like the Stagge, when Snow the Pasture sheets,
The barkes of Trees thou brows'd. On the Alpes,
It is reported thou did'st eate strange flesh,
Which some did dye to looke on: And all this
(It wounds thine Honor that I speake it now)
Was borne so like a Soldiour, that thy cheeke
So much as lank'd not

Lep. 'Tis pitty of him

   Caes Let his shames quickely
Driue him to Rome, 'tis time we twaine
Did shew our selues i'th' Field, and to that end
Assemble me immediate counsell, Pompey
Thriues in our Idlenesse

   Lep. To morrow Caesar,
I shall be furnisht to informe you rightly
Both what by Sea and Land I can be able
To front this present time

Caes Til which encounter, it is my busines too. Farwell

   Lep. Farwell my Lord, what you shal know mean time
Of stirres abroad, I shall beseech you Sir
To let me be partaker

Caesar. Doubt not sir, I knew it for my Bond.

Exeunt.

Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, & Mardian.

Cleo. Charmian

Char. Madam

Cleo. Ha, ha, giue me to drinke Mandragora

   Char. Why Madam?
  Cleo. That I might sleepe out this great gap of time:
My Anthony is away

Char. You thinke of him too much

Cleo. O 'tis Treason

Char. Madam, I trust not so

   Cleo. Thou, Eunuch Mardian?
  Mar. What's your Highnesse pleasure?
  Cleo. Not now to heare thee sing. I take no pleasure
In ought an Eunuch ha's: Tis well for thee,
That being vnseminar'd, thy freer thoughts
May not flye forth of Egypt. Hast thou Affections?
  Mar. Yes gracious Madam

   Cleo. Indeed?
  Mar. Not in deed Madam, for I can do nothing
But what in deede is honest to be done:
Yet haue I fierce Affections, and thinke
What Venus did with Mars

   Cleo. Oh Charmion:
Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he?
Or does he walke? Or is he on his Horse?
Oh happy horse to beare the weight of Anthony!
Do brauely Horse, for wot'st thou whom thou moou'st,
The demy Atlas of this Earth, the Arme
And Burganet of men. Hee's speaking now,
Or murmuring, where's my Serpent of old Nyle,
(For so he cals me:) Now I feede my selfe
With most delicious poyson. Thinke on me
That am with Phoebus amorous pinches blacke,
And wrinkled deepe in time. Broad-fronted Caesar,
When thou was't heere aboue the ground, I was
A morsell for a Monarke: and great Pompey
Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow,
There would he anchor his Aspect, and dye
With looking on his life.
Enter Alexas from Caesar.

Alex. Soueraigne of Egypt, haile

   Cleo. How much vnlike art thou Marke Anthony?
Yet comming from him, that great Med'cine hath
With his Tinct gilded thee.
How goes it with my braue Marke Anthonie?
  Alex. Last thing he did (deere Queene)
He kist the last of many doubled kisses
This Orient Pearle. His speech stickes in my heart

Cleo. Mine eare must plucke it thence

   Alex. Good Friend, quoth he:
Say the firme Roman to great Egypt sends
This treasure of an Oyster: at whose foote
To mend the petty present, I will peece
Her opulent Throne, with Kingdomes. All the East,
(Say thou) shall call her Mistris. So he nodded,
And soberly did mount an Arme-gaunt Steede,
Who neigh'd so hye, that what I would haue spoke,
Was beastly dumbe by him

   Cleo. What was he sad, or merry?
  Alex. Like to the time o'th' yeare, between y extremes
Of hot and cold, he was nor sad nor merrie

   Cleo. Oh well diuided 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 lookes by his. He was not merrie,
Which seem'd to tell them, his remembrance lay
In Egypt with his ioy, but betweene both.
Oh heauenly mingle! Bee'st thou sad, or merrie,
The violence of either thee becomes,
So do's it no mans else. Met'st thou my Posts?
  Alex. I Madam, twenty seuerall Messengers.
Why do you send so thicke?
  Cleo. Who's borne that day, when I forget to send
to Anthonie, shall dye a Begger. Inke and paper Charmian.
Welcome my good Alexas. Did I Charmian, euer
loue Caesar so?
  Char. Oh that braue Caesar!
  Cleo. Be choak'd with such another Emphasis,
Say the braue Anthony

Char. The valiant Caesar

   Cleo. By Isis, I will giue thee bloody teeth,
If thou with Caesar Paragon againe:
My man of men

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