344
The Tragedie of
To rot it selfe with motion.
Mes.Cæsar I bring thee word,Menacrates and Menas famous PyratesMakes the Sea serue them, which they eare and woundWith keeles of euery kinde. Many hot inrodesThey make in Italy, the Borders MaritimeLacke blood to thinke on't, and flush youth reuolt,No Vessell can peepe forth: but 'tis as sooneTaken as seene: for Pompeyes name strikes moreThen could his Warre resisted.
Cæsar.Anthony,Leaue thy lasciuious Vassailes. When thou onceWas beaten from Medena, where thou slew'stHirsius, and Pausa Consuls, at thy heeleDid Famine follow, whom thou fought'st against,(Though daintily brought vp) with patience moreThen Sauages could suffer. Thou did'st drinkeThe stale of Horses, and the gilded PuddleWhich Beasts would cough at. Thy pallat thē did daineThe 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 cheekeSo much as lank'd not.
Lep.'Tis pitty of him.
Cæs.Let his shames quickelyDriue him to Rome, 'tis time we twaineDid shew our selues i'th'Field, and to that endAssemble me immediate counsell, Pompey'Thriues in our Idlenesse.
Lep.To morrow Cæsar,I shall be furnisht to informe you rightlyBoth what by Sea and Land I can be ableTo front this present time.
Cæs.Til which encounter, it is my busines too. Farwell.
Lep.Farwell my Lord, what you shal know mean timeOf stirres abroad, I shall beseech you SirTo let me be partaker.
Cæsar.Exeunt.Doubt not sir, I knew it for my Bond.
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 pleasureIn ought an Eunuch ha's: Tis well for thee,That being vnseminar'd, thy freer thoughtsMay not flye forth of Egypt. Hast thou Affections?
Mar.Yes gracious Madam.
Cleo.Indeed?
Mar.Not in deed Madam, for I can do nothingBut what in deede is honest to be done:Yet haue I fierce Affections, and thinkeWhat 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 ArmeAnd 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 selfeWith most delicious poyson. Thinke on meThat am with Phœbus amorous pinches blacke,And wrinkled deepe in time. Broad-fronted Cæsar,When thou was't heere aboue the ground, I wasA morsell for a Monarke: and great PompeyWould stand and make his eyes grow in my brow,There would he anchor his Aspect, and dyeWith looking on his life.
Enter Alexas from Cæsar.
Alex.Soueraigne of Egypt, haile.
Cleo.How much vnlike art thou Marke Anthony?Yet comming from him, that great Med'cine hathWith his Tinct gilded thee.How goes it with my braue Marke Anthonie?
Alex.Last thing he did (deere Qu ene)He kist the last of many doubled kissesThis 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 sendsThis treasure of an Oyster: at whose footeTo mend the petty present, I will peeceHer 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 yͤ extremesOf 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 thoseThat make their lookes by his. He was not merrie,Which seem'd to tell them, his remembrance layIn 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 sendto Anthonie, shall dye a Begger. Inke and paper Charmian. Welcome my good Alexas. Did I Charmian,euer loue Cæsar so?
Char.Oh that braue Cæsar!
Cleo.Be choak'd with such another Emphasis,Say the braue Anthony.
Char.The valiant Cæsar.
Cleo.By Isis, I will giue thee bloody teethIf thou with Cæsar Paragon againe:My man of men.
Char.By your most gracious pardon,I sing but after you.
Cleo.My Sallad dayes,When I was greene in iudgement, cold in blood,To say, as I saide then. But come, away,Get me Inke and Paper,
Hee
