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our hearts; and never
Fly off our loves again! Lepidus Happily, amen! Antony

I did not think to draw my sword ’gainst Pompey;
For he hath laid strange courtesies and great
Of late upon me: I must thank him only,
Lest my remembrance suffer ill report;
At heel of that, defy him.

Lepidus

Time calls upon’s:
Of us must Pompey presently be sought,
Or else he seeks out us.

Antony Where lies he? Caesar About the mount Misenum. Antony What is his strength by land? Caesar

Great and increasing: but by sea
He is an absolute master.

Antony

So is the fame.
Would we had spoke together! Haste we for it:
Yet, ere we put ourselves in arms, dispatch we
The business we have talk’d of.

Caesar

With most gladness;
And do invite you to my sister’s view,
Whither straight I’ll lead you.

Antony

Let us, Lepidus,
Not lack your company.

Lepidus

Noble Antony,
Not sickness should detain me. Flourish. Exeunt Caesar, Antony, and Lepidus.

Mecaenas Welcome from Egypt, sir. Enobarbas Half the heart of Caesar, worthy Mecaenas! My honourable friend, Agrippa! Agrippa Good Enobarbus! Mecaenas We have cause to be glad that matters are so well digested. You stayed well by’t in Egypt. Enobarbas Ay, sir; we did sleep day out of countenance, and made the night light with drinking. Mecaenas Eight wild-boars roasted whole at a breakfast, and but twelve persons there; is this true? Enobarbas This was but as a fly by an eagle: we had much more monstrous matter of feast, which worthily deserved noting. Mecaenas She’s a most triumphant lady, if report be square to her. Enobarbas When she first met Mark Antony, she pursed up his heart, upon the river of Cydnus. Agrippa There she appeared indeed; or my reporter devised well for her. Enobarbas

I will 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; 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.

Agrippa O, rare for Antony! Enobarbas

Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides,
So many mermaids, tended her i’ the eyes,
And made their bends adornings: 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,
Enthroned i’ the market-place, did sit alone,
Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy,
Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too,
And made a gap in nature.

Agrippa Rare Egyptian! Enobarbas

Upon her landing, Antony sent to her,
Invited her to supper: she replied,
It should be better he became her guest;
Which she entreated: our courteous Antony,
Whom ne’er the word of “No” woman heard speak,
Being barber’d ten times o’er, goes to the feast,
And for his ordinary pays his heart
For what his eyes eat only.

Agrippa

Royal wench!
She made great Caesar lay his sword to bed:
He plough’d her, and she cropp’d.

Enobarbas

I saw her once
Hop forty paces through the public street;
And having lost her breath, she spoke, and panted,
That she did make defect perfection,
And, breathless, power breathe forth.

Mecaenas Now Antony must leave her utterly. Enobarbas

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 riggish.

Mecaenas

If beauty, wisdom, modesty, can settle
The heart of Antony, Octavia is
A blessed lottery to him.

Agrippa

Let us go.
Good Enobarbus, make yourself my guest
Whilst you abide here.

Enobarbas Humbly, sir, I thank you. Exeunt. Scene III

The same. Caesar’s house.

Enter Antony, Caesar, Octavia between them, and Attendants. Antony

The world and my great office will sometimes
Divide me from your bosom.

Octavia

All which time
Before the gods my knee shall bow my prayers
To them for you.

Antony

Good night, sir. 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, dear lady.
Good night, sir.

Caesar Good night. Exeunt Caesar and Octavia. Enter Soothsayer. Antony Now, sirrah; you do wish yourself in Egypt? Soothsayer

Would I had never come from thence, nor you
Thither!

Antony If you can, your reason? Soothsayer

I see it in
My motion, have it not in my tongue: but yet
Hie you to Egypt again.

Antony

Say to me,
Whose fortunes shall rise higher, Caesar’s or mine?

Soothsayer

Caesar’s.
Therefore, O Antony, stay not by his side:
Thy demon, that’s thy spirit which keeps thee, is
Noble, courageous high, unmatchable,
Where Caesar’s is not; but, near him, thy angel
Becomes a fear, as being o’erpower’d: therefore
Make space enough between you.

Antony Speak this no more. Soothsayer

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: thy lustre thickens,
When he shines by: I say again, thy spirit
Is all afraid to govern thee near him;
But, he away, ’tis noble.

Antony

Get thee gone:
Say to Ventidius I would speak with him: Exit Soothsayer.
He shall to Parthia. Be it art or hap,
He hath spoken true: the very dice obey him;
And in our sports my better cunning faints
Under his chance: if we draw lots, he speeds;
His cocks do win the battle still of mine,
When it is all to nought; and his quails ever
Beat mine, inhoop’d, at odds. I will to Egypt:
And though I make this marriage for my peace,
I’ the east my pleasure lies.

Enter Ventidius.

O, come, Ventidius,
You must to Parthia: your commission’s ready;
Follow me, and receive’t. Exeunt.

Scene IV

The same.

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