Whip him. Were 't twenty of the greatest tributaries 96
That do acknowledge Cæsar, 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 100
And whine aloud for mercy; take him hence.
Thyr. Mark Antony,—
Ant. Tug him away; being whipp'd,
Bring him again; this Jack of Cæsar's shall
Bear us an errand to him. 104
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 abus'd 108
By one that looks on feeders?
Cleo. Good my lord,—
Ant. You have been a boggler ever:
But when we in our viciousness grow hard,—
O misery on 't!—the wise gods seel our eyes; 112
In our own filth drop our clear judgments; make us
Adore our errors; laugh at's while we strut
To our confusion.
Cleo. O! is 't come to this?
Ant. I found you as a morsel, cold upon 116
Dead Cæsar'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, 120
105 blasted: withered
109 feeders: dependents
110 boggler: waverer
112 seel: blind
120 Luxuriously: lustfully
