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Our great competitor: from Alexandria
Cæs. 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 20 With knaves that smell of sweat: say this becomes him,As his com posure 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 tilld His vacancy with his voluptuousness, Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones, Call on him fort: but to confound such time, That drums him from bis sport, and speaks as loud As his own state and ours, — 'tis to be chid
30 As we rate boys, who, being mature in kuowledge, Pawn their experience to their present pleasure, And so rebel to judgement.
Enter a Messenger.
Here's more news.
I should have known no less. 40
Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream,
Cæsar, I bring thee word,
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 60 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 thisIt wounds thine honour that I speak it nowWas borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek
70 So much as lank'd not. Lep.
'Tis pity of him.
Till which encounter,
80 Lep. Farewell, my lord: what you shall know meantime Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir, To let me be partaker. Cars.
Doubt not, sir; I knew it for my bond.
SCENE V. Alexandria. Cleopatra's palace.
Cleo. Ha, ha!
You think of him too much.
Madam, I trust, not so.
What's your highness' pleasure?
10 That, being unseminar'd, thy freer thoughts May not fly forth of Egypt. llast thou affections?
Mar. Yes, gracious madam.
Mar. Not in deed, madam; for I can do nothing
20 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 Phæbus' amorous pinches black, And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Cresar, When thou wast here above the ground, I was
30 A morsel for a monarch: and great Pompey Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow; There would lie anchor his aspect and die With looking on his life.
Enter ALEXAS. Aler.
Sovereign of Egypt, hail! Cleo. How much unlike art thou Mark Antony!
Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hati
Alex. Last thing lie did, dear queen,
40 This orient pearl. His speech sticks in my heart.
C'eo. Mine ear must pluck it thence.
“Good friend,” quotlı lie,
What, was he sad or merry? 50 Aler. Like to the time o' the year between the extremes Of hot and cold, he was nor sad nor merry.
Cleo. O well-divided disposition! Note him, Note him, good Charınian, 'tis the man; but notc 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,
60 So does it no man else. Met'st thou my posts?
Aler. Ay, madam, twenty several messengers:
Who's born that day
O that brave Cæsar!
The valiant Cæsar!
By your most gracious pardon,
My salad days,
Get me ink and paper:
SCENE I. Messina. Pompey's house.
Pom. If the great gods be just, they shall assist
Know, worthy Pompey,
Pom. Whiles we are suitors to their throne, decays
We, ignorant of ourselves,
I shall do well:
Cæsar and Lepidus
Pom. Where have you this? 'tis false.
From Silvius, sir.
How now, Varrius! Var. This is most certain that I shall deliver: