ENOBARBUS

Bring in the Banquet quickly: Wine enough, Cleopatra is health to drink. Mine, and most of our Fortune's to night, shall be drunk to bed. Hush, here comes Anthony. No Lady. Madam. I shall doo't. I shall entreat him To answer Like himself: if Caesar move him, Let Anthony look over Caesars head, And speak as loud as Mars. By Jupiter, Were I the wearer of Anthonio's Beard, I would not shaue't to day. That truth should be silent, I had almost for God. Go too then: your Considerate stone. I Sir, we did sleep day out of countenance: and made the night light with drinking. When she first met Mark Anthony, she purst up his heart upon the River of Sidnis. Sir, I never loved you much, but I have praised you, When you have well deserved ten times as much, As I have said you did. At Sea, I think. You have done well by water. I will praise any man that will praise me, though it cannot be denied what I have done by Land. Yes something you can deny for your own safety: you have been a great Thief by Sea. There I deny my Land service: but give me your hand Menas, if our eyes had authority, here they might take two Thieves kissing. But there is never a fair Woman, ha a true Face. We came hither to fight with you. If he do, sure he cannot weep't back again. Caesars Sister is called Octavia. But she is now the wife of Marcus Anthonius. It's true. If I were bound to Divine of this unity, I would not Prophesy so. I think so too. But you shall find the band that seems to tie their friendship together, will be the very strangler of their Amity: Octavia is of a holy, cold, and still conversation. I shall take it sir: we have used our Throats in Egypt. Not till you have slept: I fear me you'll be in till then. Would my brave Emperor, shall we dance now the Egyptian Backenals, and celebrate our drink? Well, I could reply: if we should serve with Horse and Mares together, the Horse were merely lost: the Mares would bear a Soldier and his Horse. Your presence needs must puzzle Anthony, Take from his heart, take from his Brain, from's time, What should not then be spared. He is already Traduced for Levity, and it's said in Room, That Photinus and Eunuch, and your Maids Manage this war. So hath my Lord, dared him to single fight. Your Ships are not well manned, Your Mariners are Militers, Reapers people Ingroft by swift Impress. In Caesars Fleet, Are those, that often have against Pompey fought, Their ships are yare, yours heavy: no disgrace Shall fallen you for refusing him at Sea, Being prepared for Land. Alack, alack. I, are you thereabouts? Why then goodnight indeed. He needs as many (Sir) as Caesar ha, Or needs not us. If Caesar please, our Master Will leap to be his Friend: For us you know, Whose he is, we are, and that is Caesars. Alexas did revolt, and went to Iewrij on Affairs of Anthony, there did dissuade Great Herod to incline himself to Caesar, And leave his Master Anthony. For this pains, Caesar hath hanged him: Camindius and the rest That fell away, have entertainment, but No honourable trust: I have done ill, Of which I do accuse my self so forely, That I will joy no more. I am alone the Villain of the earth, And feel I am so most. O Anthony, Thou Mine of Bounty, how wouldst thou have paid My better service, when my turpitude Thou dost so Crown with Gold. This blows my heart, If swift thought break it not: a swifter mean Shall out-strike thought, but thought will doo't. I feel I fight against thee: No I will go seek Some Dit h, wherein to die: the foulest best fits My latter partly of life. O bear me witness night. Be witness to me (Oh thou blessed Moon) When men revolted shall upon Record Bear hateful memory: poor Enobarbus did Before thy face repent. O Sovereign Mistress of true Melancholy, The poisonous damp of night dispunge upon me, That Life, a very Rebel to my will, May hang no longer on me. Throw my heart Against the flint and hardness of my fault, Which being dried with grief, will break to powder, And finish all foul thoughts. O Anthony, Nobler then my revolt is Infamous, Forgive me in thine own particular, But let the world rank me in Register A Master leaver, and a fugitive: O Anthony ! O Anthony ! What's your pleasure, Sir? Why then we kill all our Women. We see how mortal and unkindness is to them, if they suffer our de parture death's the word. Under a compelling and occasion, let women die. It were pity to cast them away for nothing, though be tween them and a great cause, they should be esteemed nothing. Cleopatra catching but the least noise of this, instantly: I have seen her die twenty times upon fa orer moment: I do think there is mettle in death, which mits some loving act upon her, she hath such a celerity in dying. Alack Sir no, her passion are made of nothing but the finest partly of pure Love. We cannot call her winds and waters, sighs and tears: They are greater storms and Tempests then Almanacs can report. This cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a shower of Rain as well as Jove. O sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece of work, which not to have been blessed withal, would have discredited your Travail. Sir. Fulvia ? Why sir, give the Gods a thankful Sacrifice: when it pleases their Deities to take the wife of a man from him, it shows to man the Tailors of the earth: come forting therein, that when old Robes are worn out, there are members to make new. If there were no more Women but Fulvia, then had you indeed a cut, and the case to be lamented: This grief is crowned with Conso lation, your old Smock brings forth a new Petticoat, and indeed the tears live in and Onion, that should water this sorrow. And the business you have broached here can not be without you, especially that of Cleopatra is, which wholly depends on your abided. Every time serves for the matter that is then born in't. Not if the small come first. And yonder Caesar. Half the heart of Caesar, worthy Mecenas. My honourable Friend Agrippa. This was but as a Fly by and Eagle: we had much more monstrous matter of Feast, which worthily desert ved noting. I will tell you, The Barge she sat in, Like a burnished Throne Burned on the water: the Poop was beaten Gold, Purple the Sails: and so perfumed that The Winds were Lovesick. 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 beggared all description, she did lie In her Pavilion, cloth of Gold, of Tissue, O're-picturing that Venus, where we see The fancy outwork Nature. On each side her, Stood pretty Dimpled Boys, Like smiling Cupid's, With diverse coloured Fans whose wind did seem, To glove the delicate cheeks which they did cool, And what they undid did. Her Gentlewoman, Like the Nereids, So many Mermaids tended her in 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 Wares. The City cast Her people out upon her: and Anthony Enthroned in the Marketplace, did fit alone, Whistling to the air: which but for vacancy, Had gone to gaze on Cleopater too, And made a gap in Nature. Upon her landing, Anthony sent to her, Invited her to Supper: she replied, It should be better, he became her guest: Which she entreated, our Courteous Anthony, Whom never the word of no woman hard speak, Being barber'd ten times over, goes to the Feast; And for his ordinary, pays his heart, For what his eyes eat only. 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 pour breath forth. 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 vildest things Become themselves in her, that the holy Priests Bless her, when she is Riggish. Humbly Sir I thank you. No more that: he did so. A certain Queen to Caesar in a Matris. Well, and well am Like to do, for I perceive Four Feasts are towards. Not he that himself is not so: which is Mark Anthony : he will to his Egyptian dish again: then shall the sighs of Octavia blow the fire up in Caesar, and (as I said before) that which is the strength of their Amity, shall prove the immediate Author of their variance. And thony will use his affection where it is. He married but his occasion here. Here's to thee Menas. There's a strong Fellow Menas. A bears the third partly of the world man: seest not? Drink thou: increase the Reels. All take hands: Make battery to our ears with the loud Music, The while, I'll place you, then the Boy shall sing. The holding every man shall beat as loud, As his strong sides can volley. Come thou Monarch of the Vine, Plumpy Bacchus, with pink eyes: In thy Fats our Cares be drowned, With thy Grapes our hairs be Crowned. Cup us till the world go round, Cup us till the world go round. Take heed you fallen not Menas : I'll not on shore, No to my Cabin: these Drums, These Trumpets, Flutes: what Let Neptune hear, we bid aloud farewell To these great Fellows. Found and be hanged, found out. They have dispatched with Pompey, he is gone, The other three are Sealing. Octavia weeps To partly from Room: Caesar is sad, and Lepidus Since Pompey's feast, as Menas says, is troubled With the Greensickness. A very fine one: o, how he loves Caesar. Caesar ? why he's the Jupiter of men. Spoke you of Caesar ? How, the non-pareill? Would you praise Caesar, say Caesar go no further. But he loves Caesar best, yet he loves Anthony : Ho, Hearts, Tongues, Figure, Scribes, Bards, Poets, cannot Think speak, cast, write, sing, number: ho, His love to Anthony. But as for Caesar, Kneel down, kneel down, and wonder. They are his Shards, and he their Beetle, so: This is to horse: Adieu, Noble Agrippa. Will Caesar weep? He were the worse for that were he a Horse, so is he being a man. That year indeed, he was troubled with a rheum, What willingly he did confound, he wailed, Beleeu't till I weep too. How now Friend Eros ? What man? This is old, what is the success? Then would thou hadst a pair of chaps no more, and throw between them all the food thou hast, they'le grind the other. Where's Anthony ? Our great Navies rig'd. It'll be nought, but let it be: bring me to Anthony. But why, why, why? Well: is it, is it. Nay I have done, here comes the Emperor. Most worthy Sir, you therein throw away The absolute Soldiership you have by Land, Distract your Army, which does most consist Of Warre-markt-footmen, leave unexecuted Your own renowned knowledge, quite forgo The way which promises assurance, and Give up your self merely to chance and hazard, From firm Security. Nought, nought, all nought, I can behold no longer: Thantoniad, the Egyptian Admiral, With all their sixty fly, and turn the Rudder: To see't, mine eyes are blasted. What's thy passion. How appears the Fight? That I beheld: Mine eyes did sicken at the sighed, and could not. Endure a further view. I'll yet follow The wounded chance of Anthony, though my reason Sits in the wind against me. Think, and die. Anthony only, that would make his will Lord of his Reason. What though you fled, From that great face of War, whose several ranges Frighted each other? Why should he follow? The itch of his Affection should not then Have nicked his Captainship, at such a point, When half to half the world opposed, he being The meered question? 'Twas a shame no less Then was his lose, to course your flying Flags, And leave his Navy gazing. Yes Like enough: hie battled Caesar will Unstate his happiness, and be Staged to the show Against a Sworder. I see men's Judgements are A parcel of their Fortune's, and things outward Do draw the inward quality after them To suffer all alike, that he should dream, Knowing all measures the full Caesar will Answer his emptiness; Caesar thou hast subdu'de His judgement too. Mine honesty, and I, begin to square. The Loyalty well held to Fools, does make Our Faith mere folly: yet he that can endure To follow with Allegiance a fallen Lord, Does conquer him that did his Master conquer, And earns a place in the Story. To be sure of that, I will ask Anthony. Sir, sir, thou art so leaky That we must leave thee to thy sinking, for Thy dearest quit thee. You will be whipped. It's better playing with a Lions whelp, Then with and old one dying. Now he'll outstare the Lightning, to be furious Is to be frighted out of fear, and in that mood The Dove will peck the Estridge; and I see still A diminution in our Captains brain, Restores his heart; when valour prays in reason, It eats the Sword it fights with: I will seek Some way to leave him. No? He thinks, being twenty times of better fortune, He is twenty men to one. I'll strike, and cry, Take all. It's one of those odd tricks which sorrow shoots Out of the mind. To make his Followers weep. What mean you (Sir) To give them this discomfort? Look they weep, And I and Ass, am Onyon-ey'd; for shame, Transform us not to women. I give it you. Would we had all such wives, that the men might go to Wars with the women. Or if you borrow one another's Love for the instant, you may when you hear no more words of Pompey return it again: you shall have time to wrangle in, when you have nothing else to do. Ho says a there's my Cap.