Complete Plays, The

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Complete Plays, The Page 126

by William Shakespeare


  Pompey the Great and all his dignities

  Upon his son; who, high in name and power,

  Higher than both in blood and life, stands up

  For the main soldier: whose quality, going on,

  The sides o’ the world may danger: much is breeding,

  Which, like the courser’s hair, hath yet but life,

  And not a serpent’s poison. Say, our pleasure,

  To such whose place is under us, requires

  Our quick remove from hence.

  Domitius Enobarbus

  I shall do’t.

  Exeunt

  SCENE III. THE SAME. ANOTHER ROOM.

  Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas

  Cleopatra

  Where is he?

  Charmian

  I did not see him since.

  Cleopatra

  See where he is, who’s with him, what he does:

  I did not send you: if you find him sad,

  Say I am dancing; if in mirth, report

  That I am sudden sick: quick, and return.

  Exit Alexas

  Charmian

  Madam, methinks, if you did love him dearly,

  You do not hold the method to enforce

  The like from him.

  Cleopatra

  What should I do, I do not?

  Charmian

  In each thing give him way, cross him nothing.

  Cleopatra

  Thou teachest like a fool; the way to lose him.

  Charmian

  Tempt him not so too far; I wish, forbear:

  In time we hate that which we often fear.

  But here comes Antony.

  Enter Mark Antony

  Cleopatra

  I am sick and sullen.

  Mark Antony

  I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose,—

  Cleopatra

  Help me away, dear Charmian; I shall fall:

  It cannot be thus long, the sides of nature

  Will not sustain it.

  Mark Antony

  Now, my dearest queen,—

  Cleopatra

  Pray you, stand further from me.

  Mark Antony

  What’s the matter?

  Cleopatra

  I know, by that same eye, there’s some good news.

  What says the married woman? You may go:

  Would she had never given you leave to come!

  Let her not say ’tis I that keep you here:

  I have no power upon you; hers you are.

  Mark Antony

  The gods best know,—

  Cleopatra

  O, never was there queen

  So mightily betray’d! yet at the first

  I saw the treasons planted.

  Mark Antony

  Cleopatra,—

  Cleopatra

  Why should I think you can be mine and true,

  Though you in swearing shake the throned gods,

  Who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous madness,

  To be entangled with those mouth-made vows,

  Which break themselves in swearing!

  Mark Antony

  Most sweet queen,—

  Cleopatra

  Nay, pray you, seek no colour for your going,

  But bid farewell, and go: when you sued staying,

  Then was the time for words: no going then;

  Eternity was in our lips and eyes,

  Bliss in our brows’ bent; none our parts so poor,

  But was a race of heaven: they are so still,

  Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world,

  Art turn’d the greatest liar.

  Mark Antony

  How now, lady!

  Cleopatra

  I would I had thy inches; thou shouldst know

  There were a heart in Egypt.

  Mark Antony

  Hear me, queen:

  The strong necessity of time commands

  Our services awhile; but my full heart

  Remains in use with you. Our Italy

  Shines o’er with civil swords: Sextus Pompeius

  Makes his approaches to the port of Rome:

  Equality of two domestic powers

  Breed scrupulous faction: the hated, grown to strength,

  Are newly grown to love: the condemn’d Pompey,

  Rich in his father’s honour, creeps apace,

  Into the hearts of such as have not thrived

  Upon the present state, whose numbers threaten;

  And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge

  By any desperate change: my more particular,

  And that which most with you should safe my going,

  Is Fulvia’s death.

  Cleopatra

  Though age from folly could not give me freedom,

  It does from childishness: can Fulvia die?

  Mark Antony

  She’s dead, my queen:

  Look here, and at thy sovereign leisure read

  The garboils she awaked; at the last, best:

  See when and where she died.

  Cleopatra

  O most false love!

  Where be the sacred vials thou shouldst fill

  With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see,

  In Fulvia’s death, how mine received shall be.

  Mark Antony

  Quarrel no more, but be prepared to know

  The purposes I bear; which are, or cease,

  As you shall give the advice. By the fire

  That quickens Nilus’ slime, I go from hence

  Thy soldier, servant; making peace or war

  As thou affect’st.

  Cleopatra

  Cut my lace, Charmian, come;

  But let it be: I am quickly ill, and well,

  So Antony loves.

  Mark Antony

  My precious queen, forbear;

  And give true evidence to his love, which stands

  An honourable trial.

  Cleopatra

  So Fulvia told me.

  I prithee, turn aside and weep for her,

  Then bid adieu to me, and say the tears

  Belong to Egypt: good now, play one scene

  Of excellent dissembling; and let it look

  Life perfect honour.

  Mark Antony

  You’ll heat my blood: no more.

  Cleopatra

  You can do better yet; but this is meetly.

  Mark Antony

  Now, by my sword,—

  Cleopatra

  And target. Still he mends;

  But this is not the best. Look, prithee, Charmian,

  How this Herculean Roman does become

  The carriage of his chafe.

  Mark Antony

  I’ll leave you, lady.

  Cleopatra

  Courteous lord, one word.

  Sir, you and I must part, but that’s not it:

  Sir, you and I have loved, but there’s not it;

  That you know well: something it is I would,

  O, my oblivion is a very Antony,

  And I am all forgotten.

  Mark Antony

  But that your royalty

  Holds idleness your subject, I should take you

  For idleness itself.

  Cleopatra

  ’Tis sweating labour

  To bear such idleness so near the heart

  As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me;

  Since my becomings kill me, when they do not

  Eye well to you: your honour calls you hence;

  Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly.

  And all the gods go with you! upon your sword

  Sit laurel victory! and smooth success

  Be strew’d before your feet!

  Mark Antony

  Let us go. Come;

  Our separation so abides, and flies,

  That thou, residing here, go’st yet with me,

  And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee. Away!

 
; Exeunt

  SCENE IV. ROME. OCTAVIUS CAESAR’S HOUSE.

  Enter Octavius Caesar, reading a letter, Lepidus, and their Train

  Octavius Caesar

  You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know,

  It is not Caesar’s natural vice to hate

  Our great competitor: from Alexandria

  This is the news: he fishes, drinks, and wastes

  The lamps of night in revel; is not more man-like

  Than Cleopatra; nor the queen of Ptolemy

  More womanly than he; hardly gave audience, or

  Vouchsafed to think he had partners: you shall find there

  A man who is the abstract of all faults

  That all men follow.

  Lepidus

  I must not think there are

  Evils enow to darken all his goodness:

  His faults in him seem as the spots of heaven,

  More fiery by night’s blackness; hereditary,

  Rather than purchased; what he cannot change,

  Than what he chooses.

  Octavius Caesar

  You are too indulgent. Let us grant, it is not

  Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy;

  To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit

  And keep the turn of tippling with a slave;

  To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet

  With knaves that smell of sweat: say this becomes him,—

  As his composure must be rare indeed

  Whom these things cannot blemish,— yet must Antony

  No way excuse his soils, when we do bear

  So great weight in his lightness. If he fill’d

  His vacancy with his voluptuousness,

  Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones,

  Call on him for’t: but to confound such time,

  That drums him from his sport, and speaks as loud

  As his own state and ours,—’tis to be chid

  As we rate boys, who, being mature in knowledge,

  Pawn their experience to their present pleasure,

  And so rebel to judgment.

  Enter a Messenger

  Lepidus

  Here’s more news.

  Messenger

  Thy biddings have been done; and every hour,

  Most noble Caesar, shalt thou have report

  How ’tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea;

  And it appears he is beloved of those

  That only have fear’d Caesar: to the ports

  The discontents repair, and men’s reports

  Give him much wrong’d.

  Octavius Caesar

  I should have known no less.

  It hath been taught us from the primal state,

  That he which is was wish’d until he were;

  And the ebb’d man, ne’er loved till ne’er worth love,

  Comes dear’d by being lack’d. This common body,

  Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream,

  Goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide,

  To rot itself with motion.

  Messenger

  Caesar, I bring thee word,

  Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates,

  Make the sea serve them, which they ear and wound

  With keels of every kind: many hot inroads

  They make in Italy; the borders maritime

  Lack blood to think on’t, and flush youth revolt:

  No vessel can peep forth, but ’tis as soon

  Taken as seen; for Pompey’s name strikes more

  Than could his war resisted.

  Octavius Caesar

  Antony,

  Leave thy lascivious wassails. When thou once

  Wast beaten from Modena, where thou slew’st

  Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel

  Did famine follow; whom thou fought’st against,

  Though daintily brought up, with patience more

  Than savages could suffer: thou didst drink

  The stale of horses, and the gilded puddle

  Which beasts would cough at: thy palate then did deign

  The roughest berry on the rudest hedge;

  Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets,

  The barks of trees thou browsed’st; on the Alps

  It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh,

  Which some did die to look on: and all this —

  It wounds thine honour that I speak it now —

  Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek

  So much as lank’d not.

  Lepidus

  ’Tis pity of him.

  Octavius Caesar

  Let his shames quickly

  Drive him to Rome: ’tis time we twain

  Did show ourselves i’ the field; and to that end

  Assemble we immediate council: Pompey

  Thrives in our idleness.

  Lepidus

  To-morrow, Caesar,

  I shall be furnish’d to inform you rightly

  Both what by sea and land I can be able

  To front this present time.

  Octavius Caesar

  Till which encounter,

  It is my business too. Farewell.

  Lepidus

  Farewell, my lord: what you shall know meantime

  Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir,

  To let me be partaker.

  Octavius Caesar

  Doubt not, sir;

  I knew it for my bond.

  Exeunt

  SCENE V. ALEXANDRIA. CLEOPATRA’S PALACE.

  Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Mardian

  Cleopatra

  Charmian!

  Charmian

  Madam?

  Cleopatra

  Ha, ha!

  Give me to drink mandragora.

  Charmian

  Why, madam?

  Cleopatra

  That I might sleep out this great gap of time

  My Antony is away.

  Charmian

  You think of him too much.

  Cleopatra

  O, ’tis treason!

  Charmian

  Madam, I trust, not so.

  Cleopatra

  Thou, eunuch Mardian!

  Mardian

  What’s your highness’ pleasure?

  Cleopatra

  Not now to hear thee sing; I take no pleasure

  In aught an eunuch has: ’tis well for thee,

  That, being unseminar’d, thy freer thoughts

  May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou affections?

  Mardian

  Yes, gracious madam.

  Cleopatra

  Indeed!

  Mardian

  Not in deed, madam; for I can do nothing

  But what indeed is honest to be done:

  Yet have I fierce affections, and think

  What Venus did with Mars.

  Cleopatra

  O Charmian,

  Where think’st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he?

  Or does he walk? or is he on his horse?

  O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony!

  Do bravely, horse! for wot’st thou whom thou movest?

  The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm

  And burgonet of men. 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 Octavius Caesar

  Alexas

  Sovereign of Egypt, hail!

  Cleopatra

  How much unlike art thou
Mark Antony!

  Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath

  With his tinct gilded thee.

  How goes it with my brave Mark Antony?

  Alexas

  Last thing he did, dear queen,

  He kiss’d,— the last of many doubled kisses,—

  This orient pearl. His speech sticks in my heart.

  Cleopatra

  Mine ear must pluck it thence.

  Alexas

  ‘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.

  Cleopatra

  What, was he sad or merry?

  Alexas

  Like to the time o’ the year between the extremes

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

  Cleopatra

  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 else. Met’st thou my posts?

  Alexas

  Ay, madam, twenty several messengers:

  Why do you send so thick?

  Cleopatra

  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?

  Charmian

  O that brave Caesar!

  Cleopatra

  Be choked with such another emphasis!

  Say, the brave Antony.

  Charmian

  The valiant Caesar!

  Cleopatra

  By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth,

  If thou with Caesar paragon again

  My man of men.

  Charmian

  By your most gracious pardon,

  I sing but after you.

  Cleopatra

  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. MESSINA. POMPEY’S HOUSE.

  Enter Pompey, Menecrates, and Menas, in warlike manner

  Pompey

  If the great gods be just, they shall assist

  The deeds of justest men.

 

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