Shakespeare's First Folio Part 660

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 Caesar send this grizled head, and he will fill thy wishes to the brimme, With Princ.i.p.alities

Cleo. That head my Lord?

Ant. To him againe, tell him he weares the Rose Of youth vpon him: from which, the world should note Something particular: His Coine, s.h.i.+ps, Legions, May be a Cowards, whose Ministers would preuaile Vnder the seruice of a Childe, as soone As i'th' Command of Caesar. I dare him therefore To 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 Caesar will Vnstate his happinesse, and be Stag'd to'th' shew Against a Sworder. I see mens Iudgements are A parcell of their Fortunes, and things outward Do draw the inward quality after them To suffer all alike, that he should dreame, Knowing all measures, the full Caesar will Answer his emptinesse; Caesar thou hast subdu'de His iudgement too.

Enter a Seruant.

Ser. A Messenger from Caesar

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 make Our Faith meere folly: yet he that can endure To follow with Allegeance a falne Lord, Does conquer him that did his Master conquer, And earnes a place i'th' Story.

Enter Thidias.

Cleo. Caesars will

Thid. Heare it apart

Cleo. None but Friends: say boldly

Thid. So haply are they Friends to Anthony

En.o.b. He needs as many (Sir) as Caesar ha's, Or needs not vs. If Caesar please, our Master Will leape to be his Friend: For vs you know, Whose he is, we are, and that is Caesars

Thid. So. Thus then thou most renown'd, Caesar intreats, Not to consider in what case thou stand'st Further then he is Caesars

Cleo. Go on, right Royall

Thid. He knowes that you embrace not Anthony As you did loue, but as you feared him

Cleo. Oh

Thid. The scarre's vpon your Honor, therefore he Does pitty, as constrained blemishes, Not as deserued

Cleo. He is a G.o.d, And knowes what is most right. Mine Honour Was not yeelded, but conquer'd meerely

Eno. To be sure of that, I will aske Anthony.

Sir, sir, thou art so leakie That we must leaue thee to thy sinking, for Thy deerest quit thee.

Exit En.o.b.

Thid. Shall I say to Caesar, What you require of him: for he partly begges To be desir'd to giue. It much would please him, That of his Fortunes you should make a staffe To leane vpon. But it would warme his spirits To 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 Caesar this in disputation, I kisse his conqu'ring hand: Tell him, I am prompt To lay my Crowne at's feete, and there to kneele.

Tell him, from his all-obeying breath, I heare The doome of Egypt

Thid. 'Tis your n.o.blest course: Wisedome and Fortune combatting together, If that the former dare but what it can, No chance may shake it. Giue me grace to lay My dutie on your hand

Cleo. Your Caesars Father oft, (When he hath mus'd of taking kingdomes in) Bestow'd his lips on that vnworthy place, As it rain'd kisses.

Enter Anthony and En.o.barbus.

Ant. Fauours? By Ioue that thunders. What art thou Fellow?

Thid. One that but performes The bidding of the fullest man, and worthiest To haue command obey'd

Eno. You will be whipt

Ant. Approch there: ah you Kite. Now G.o.ds & diuels Authority 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 Tributaries That do acknowledge Caesar, should I finde them So sawcy with the hand of she heere, what's her name Since 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 whipt Bring him againe, the Iacke of Caesars shall Beare vs an arrant to him.

Exeunt. with Thidius.

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'd By 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 G.o.ds seele our eyes In our owne filth, drop our cleare iudgements, make vs Adore our errors, laugh at's while we strut To our confusion

Cleo. Oh, is't come to this?

Ant. I found you as a Morsell, cold vpon Dead Caesars Trencher: Nay, you were a Fragment Of Gneius Pompeyes, besides what hotter houres Vnregistred in vulgar Fame, you haue Luxuriously 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, G.o.d quit you, be familiar with My play-fellow, your hand; this Kingly Seale, And plighter of high hearts. O that I were Vpon the hill of Basan, to out-roare The 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 repent Thou was't not made his daughter, and be thou sorrie To follow Caesar in his Triumph, since Thou hast bin whipt. For following him, henceforth The white hand of a Lady Feauer thee, Shake thou to looke on't. Get thee backe to Caesar, Tell him thy entertainment: looke thou say He makes me angry with him. For he seemes Proud 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 guides Haue empty left their Orbes, and shot their Fires Into th' Abisme of h.e.l.l. If he mislike, My speech, and what is done, tell him he has Hiparchus, my enfranched Bondman, whom He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture, As he shall like to quit me. Vrge it thou: Hence with thy stripes, be gone.

Exit Thid.