Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/The Tragedie of Anthonie, and Cleopatra/Act 3 Scene 13
[Act 3, Scene 13]
Enter Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Charmian, & Iras.
Cleo.What shall we do, Enobarbus?
Eno.Thinke, and dye.
Cleo.Is Anthony, or we in fault for this?
Eno.Anthony onely, that would make his willLord of his Reason. What though you fled,From that great face of Warre, whose seuerall rangesFrighted each other? Why should he follow?The itch of his Affection should not thenHaue nickt his Captain-ship, at such a point,When halfe to halfe the world oppos'd, he beingThe meered question? 'Twas a shame no lesseThen was his losse, to course your flying Flagges,And leaue his Nauy gazing.
Cleo.Prythee peace.
Enter the Ambassador, with Anthony.
Ant.Is that his answer?
Amb.I my Lord.
Ant.The Queene shall then haue courtesie,So she will yeeld vs vp.
Am.He sayes so.
Antho.Let her know't. To the Boy Cæsar send thisgrizled head, and he will fill thy wishes to the brimme,With Principalities.
Cleo.That head my Lord?
Ant.To him againe, tell him he weares the RoseOf youth vpon him: from which, the world should noteSomething particular: His Coine, Ships, Legions,May be a Cowards, whose Ministers would preuaileVnder the seruice of a Childe, as sooneAs i'th'Command of Cæsar. I dare him thereforeTo lay his gay Comparisons a-part,And answer me declin'd, Sword against Sword,Our selues alone: Ile write it: Follow me.
Eno.Yes like enough: hye battel'd Cæsar willVnstate his happinesse, and be Stag'd to'th'shewAgainst a Sworder. I see mens Iudgements areA parcell of their Fortunes, and things outwardDo draw the inward quality after themTo suffer all alike, that he should dreame,Knowing all measures, the full Cæsar willAnswer his emptinesse; Cæsar thou hast subdu'deHis iudgement too.
Enter a Seruant.
Ser.A Messenger from Cæsar.
Cleo.What no more Ceremony? See my Women,Against the blowne Rose may they stop their nose,That kneel'd vnto the Buds. Admit him sir.
Eno.Mine honesty, and I, beginne to square,The Loyalty well held to Fooles, does makeOur Faith meere folly: yet he that can endureTo follow with Allegeance a falne Lord,Does conquer him that did his Master conquer,And earnes a place i'th'Story.
Enter Thidias.
Cleo.Cæsars will.
Thid.Heare it apart.
Cleo.None but Friends: say boldly.
Thid.So haply are they Friends to Anthony.
Enob.He needs as many (Sir) as Cæsar ha's,Or needs not vs. If Cæsar please, our MasterWill leape to be his Friend: For vs you know,Whose he is, we are, and that is Cæsars.
Thid.So. Thus then thou most renown'd, Cæsar intreats,Not to consider in what case thou stand'stFurther then he is Cæsars.
Cleo.Go on, right Royall.
Thid.He knowes that you embrace not AnthonyAs you did loue, but as you feared him.
Cleo.Oh.
Thid.The scarre's vpon your Honor, therefore heDoes pitty, as constrained blemishes,Not as deserued.
Cleo.He is a God,And knowes what is most right. Mine HonourWas not yeelded, but conquer'd meerely.
Eno.To be sure of that, I will aske Anthony.Note: An ink mark follows the end of this line.Sir, sir, thou art so leakieThat we must leaue thee to thy sinking, forExit Enob.Thy deerest quit thee.
Thid.Shall I say to Cæsar,What you require of him: for he partly beggesTo be desir'd to giue. It much would please him,That of his Fortunes you should make a staffeTo leane vpon. But it would warme his spiritsTo heare from me you had left Anthony,And put your selfe vnder his shrowd, the vniuersal Landlord.
Cleo.What's your name?
Thid.My name is Thidias.
Cleo.Most kinde Messenger,Say to great Cæsar this in disputation,I kisse his conqu'ring hand: Tell him, I am promptTo lay my Crowne at's feete, and there to kneele.Tell him, from his all-obeying breath, I heareThe doome of Egypt.
Thid.'Tis your Noblest course:Wisedome and Fortune combatting together,If that the former dare but what it can,No chance may shake it. Giue me grace to layMy dutie on your hand.
Cleo.Your Cæsars Father oft,(When he hath mus'd of taking kingdomes in)Bestow'd his lips on that vnworthy place,Note: An ink mark follows the end of this line.As it rain'd kisses.
Enter Anthony and Enobarbus.
Ant.Fauours? By Ioue that thunders. What art thou Fellow?
Thid.One that but performesThe bidding of the fullest man, and worthiestTo haue command obey'd.
Eno.You will be whipt.
Ant.Approch there: ah you Kite. Now Gods & diuelsAuthority melts from me of late. When I cried hoa,Like Boyes vnto a musse, Kings would start forth,And cry, your will. Haue you no eares?I am Anthony yet. Take hence this Iack, and whip him.
Enter a Seruant.
Eno.'Tis better playing with a Lions whelpe,Then with an old one dying.
Ant.Moone and Starres,Whip him: wer't twenty of the greatest TributariesThat do acknowledge Cæsar, should I finde themSo sawcy with the hand of she heere, what's her nameSince she was Cleopatra? Whip him Fellowes,Till like a Boy you see him crindge his face,And whine aloud for mercy. Take him hence.Thid.Marke Anthony.
Ant.Tugge him away: being whiptBring him againe, the Iacke of Cæsars shallExeunt with Thidius.Beare vs an arrant to him.You were halfe blasted ere I knew you: Ha?Haue I my pillow left vnprest in Rome,Forborne the getting of a lawfull Race,And by a Iem of women, to be abus'dBy one that lookes on Feeders?
Cleo.Good my Lord.
Ant.You haue beene a boggeler euer,But when we in our viciousnesse grow hard(Oh misery on't) the wise Gods seele our eyesIn our owne filth, drop our cleare iudgements, make vsAdore our errors, laugh at's while we strutTo our confusion.
Cleo.Oh, is't come to this?
Ant.I found you as a Morsell, cold vponDead Cæsars Trencher: Nay, you were a FragmentOf Gneius Pompeyes, besides what hotter houresVnregistred in vulgar Fame, you haueLuxuriously pickt out. For I am sure,Though you can guesse what Temperance should be,You know not what it is.
Cleo.Wherefore is this?
Ant.To let a Fellow that will take rewards,And say, God quit you, be familiar withMy play-fellow, your hand; this Kingly Seale,And plighter of high hearts. O that I wereVpon the hill of Basan, to out-roareThe horned Heard, for I haue sauage cause,And to proclaime it ciuilly, were like A halter'd necke, which do's the Hangman thanke,For being yare about him. Is he whipt?
Enter a Seruant with Thidias.
Ser.Soundly, my Lord.
Ant.Cried he? and begg'd a Pardon?
Ser.He did aske fauour.
Ant.If that thy Father liue, let him repentThou was't not made his daughter, and be thou sorrieTo follow Cæsar in his Triumph, sinceThou hast bin whipt. For following him, henceforthThe white hand of a Lady Feauer thee,Shake thou to looke on't. Get thee backe to Cæsar,Tell him thy entertainment: looke thou sayHe makes me angry with him. For he seemesProud and disdainfull, harping on what I am,Not what he knew I was. He makes me angry,And at this time most easie 'tis to doo't:When my good Starres, that were my former guidesHaue empty left their Orbes, and shot their FiresInto th'Abisme of hell. If he mislike,My speech, and what is done, tell him he hasHiparchus, my enfranched Bondman, whomHe may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture,As he shall like to quit me. Vrge it thou:Exit Thid.Hence with thy stripes, be gone.
Cleo.Haue you done yet?
Ant.Alacke our Terrene Moone is now Eclipst,And it portends alone the fall of Anthony.
Cleo.I must stay his time?
Ant.To flatter Cæsar, would you mingle eyesWith one that tyes his points.
Cleo.Not know me yet?
Ant.Cold-hearted toward me?
Cleo.Ah (Deere) if I be so,From my cold heart let Heauen ingender haile,And poyson it in the sourse, and the first stoneDrop in my necke: as it determines soDissolue my life, the next Cæsarian smile,Till by degrees the memory of my wombe,Together with my braue Egyptians all,By the discandering of this pelleted storme,Lye grauelesse, till the Flies and Gnats of NyleHaue buried them for prey.
Ant.I am satisfied:Cæsar sets downe in Alexandria, whereI will oppose his Fate. Our force by Land,Hath Nobly held, our seuer'd Nauie tooHaue knit againe, and Fleete, threatning most Sea-like.Where hast thou bin my heart? Dost thou heare Lady?If from the Field I shall returne once moreTo kisse these Lips, I will appeare in Blood,I, and my Sword, will earne our Chronicle,There's hope in't yet.
Cleo.That's my braue Lord.
Ant.I will be trebble-sinewed, hearted, breath'd,And fight maliciously: for when mine houresWere nice and lucky, men did ransome liuesOf me for iests: But now, Ile set my teeth,And send to darkenesse all that stop me. Come,Let's haue one other gawdy night: Call to meAll my sad Captaines, fill our Bowles once more:Let's mocke the midnight Bell.
Cleo.It is my Birth-day,I had thought t'haue held it poore. But since my LordIs Anthony againe, I will be Cleopatra.
Ant.We will yet do well.
Cleo.Call all his Noble Captaines to my Lord.
Ant.Do so, wee'l speake to them,And to night Ile forceThe Wine peepe through their scarres.Come on (my Queene)There's sap in't yet. The next time I do fightIle make death loue me: for I will contendExeunt.Euen with his pestilent Sythe.
Eno.Now hee'l out-stare the Lightning, to be furiousIs to be frighted out of feare, and in that moodeThe Doue will pecke the Estridge; and I see stillA diminution in our Captaines braine,Restores his heart; when valour prayes in reason,It eates the Sword it fights with: I will seekeExeunt.Some way to leaue him.