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 from [Antony].

 

ALEX.

Sovereign of Egypt, hail!

CLEO.

How much unlike art thou Mark Antony!

Yet coming from him, that great med'cine hath

With his tinct gilded thee.

How goes it with my brave Mark Antony?

ALEX.

Last thing he did, dear Queen,

He kiss'd – the last of many doubled kisses –

This orient pearl. His speech sticks in my heart.

CLEO.

Mine ear must pluck it thence.

ALEX.

»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 nodded,

And soberly did mount an arm-gaunt steed,

Who neigh'd so high that what I would have spoke

Was beastly [dumb'd] by him.

CLEO.

What, was he sad, or merry?

ALEX.

Like to the time o' th' year between the extremes

Of hot and cold, he was nor sad nor merry.

CLEO.

O well-divided 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 looks by his; he was not merry,

Which seem'd to tell them his remembrance lay

In Egypt with his joy; but between both.

O heavenly mingle! Be'st thou sad or merry,

The violence of either thee becomes,

So does it no man's else. Met'st thou my posts?

ALEX.

Ay, madam, twenty several messengers.

Why do you send so thick?

CLEO.

Who's born that day

When I forget to send to Antony,

Shall die a beggar. Ink and paper, Charmian.

Welcome, my good Alexas. Did I, Charmian,

Ever love Caesar so?

CHAR.

O that brave Caesar!

CLEO.

Be chok'd with such another emphasis!

Say »the brave Antony.«

CHAR.

The valiant Caesar!

CLEO.

By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth,

If thou with Caesar paragon again

My man of men.

CHAR.

By your most gracious pardon,

I sing but after you.

CLEO.

My salad days,

When I was green in judgment, cold in blood,

To say as I said then! But come, away,

Get me ink and paper.

He shall have every day a several greeting,

Or I'll unpeople Egypt.

 

Exeunt.

 

 

Act II,

[Scene I]

Enter Pompey, Menecrates, and Menas, in warlike manner.

 

POM.

If the great gods be just, they shall assist

The deeds of justest men.

[MENAS].

Know, worthy Pompey,

That what they do delay, they not deny.

POM.

Whiles we are suitors to their throne, decays

The thing we sue for.

MENE.

We, ignorant of ourselves,

Beg often our own harms, which the wise pow'rs

Deny us for our good; so find we profit

By losing of our prayers.

POM.

I shall do well:

The people love me, and the sea is mine;

My powers are crescent, and my auguring hope

Says it will come to th' full. Mark Antony

In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make

No wars without-doors. Caesar gets money where

He loses hearts. Lepidus flatters both,

Of both is flatter'd; but he neither loves,

Nor either cares for him.

[MENAS.]

Caesar and Lepidus

Are in the field, a mighty strength they carry.

POM.

Where have you this? 'Tis false.

[MENAS.]

From Silvius, sir.

POM.

He dreams; I know they are in Rome together,

Looking for Antony. But all the charms of love,

Salt Cleopatra, soften thy wan'd lip!

Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both,

Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts,

Keep his brain fuming; epicurean cooks

Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite,

That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honor,

Even till a Lethe'd dullness –

 

Enter Varrius.

 

How now, Varrius?

VAR.

This is most certain that I shall deliver:

Mark Antony is every hour in Rome

Expected. Since he went from Egypt, 'tis

A space for farther travel.

POM.

I could have given less matter

A better ear. Menas, I did not think

This amorous surfeiter would have donn'd his helm

For such a petty war. His soldiership

Is twice the other twain; but let us rear

The higher our opinion, that our stirring

Can from the lap of Egypt's widow pluck

The [ne'er-]lust-wearied Antony.

[MENAS.]

I cannot hope

Caesar and Antony shall well greet together:

His wife that's dead did trespasses to Caesar;

His brother [warr'd] upon him, although I think

Not mov'd by Antony.

POM.

I know not, Menas,

How lesser enmities may give way to greater.

Were't not that we stand up against them all,

'Twere pregnant they should square between themselves,

For they have entertained cause enough

To draw their swords; but how the fear of us

May cement their divisions, and bind up

The petty difference, we yet not know.

Be't as our gods will have't! it only stands

Our lives upon to use our strongest hands.

Come, Menas.

 

Exeunt.

 

 

[Scene II]

Enter Enobarbus and Lepidus.

 

LEP.

Good Enobarbus, 'tis a worthy deed,

And shall become you well, to entreat your captain

To soft and gentle speech.

ENO.

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.