Oct. I'll tell you in your ear.
Ant. Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can
Her heart obey her tongue; the swan's down-feather, 48
That stands upon the swell at full of tide,
And neither way inclines.
Eno. [Aside to Agrippa.] Will Cæsar weep?
Agr. He has a cloud in's face.
Eno. He were the worse for that were he a horse; 52
So is he, being a man.
Agr. Why, Enobarbus,
When Antony found Julius Cæsar dead
He cried almost to roaring; and he wept
When at Philippi he found Brutus slain. 56
Eno. That year, indeed, he was troubled with a rheum;
What willingly he did confound he wail'd;
Believe 't, till I weep too.
Cæs. No, sweet Octavia,
You shall hear from me still; the time shall not 60
Out-go my thinking on you.
Ant. Come, sir, come;
I'll wrestle with you in my strength of love:
Look, here I have you; thus I let you go,
And give you to the gods.
Cæs. Adieu; be happy! 64
Lep. Let all the number of the stars give light
To thy fair way!
Cæs. Farewell, farewell!
Kisses Octavia.
Ant. Farewell!
Trumpets sound. Exeunt.
51, 52 He has a cloud in's face . . . horse; cf. n.
57 rheum: cold
58 confound: destroy
