Alack! our terrene moon

Ant.

Is now eclips'd, and it portends alone

The fall of Antony.

Cleo.

I must stay his time.

Ant. To flatter Cæsar, would you mingle eyes With one that ties his points*?

Cleo.

Not know me yet?

Ah, dear! if I be so,

Ant. Cold-hearted toward me?
Cleo.
From my cold heart let heaven engender hail,
And poison it in the source, and the first stone
Drop in my neck: as it determines, so
Dissolve my life! The next Cæsarion smite,
Till by degrees the memory of my womb,
Together with my brave Egyptians all,
By the discandying of this pelleted storm,
Lie graveless, till the flies and gnats of Nile
Have buried them for prey!

Ant.

6

I am satisfied.

Cæsar sits down in Alexandria, where

I will oppose his fate. Our force by land
Hath nobly held; our sever'd navy, too,

Have knit again, and fleet', threat'ning most sealike.
Where hast thou been, my heart?-Dost thou hear,

lady?

If from the field I shall return once more
To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood;
I and my sword will earn our chronicle:
There's hope in 't yet.

Cleo.

That's my brave lord!

With one that ties his POINTS ?] "Points" were tags at the ends of laces See Vol. iii. p. 500.

used to fasten the dress. 5 Dissolve my life!]

But for the verse, we might, perhaps, more properly and intelligibly read, "as it dissolves, so determine (or end) my life." "Determine" and "dissolve" may, however, be taken as convertible terms.

"dis

6 By the DISCANDYING-] All the folios corruptly read, discandering : candying" was Thirlby's change, and, as Malone observes, the verb to “discandy" is found in the next Act. Three lines above, they all read smile for "smite." 7 and FLEET,] i. e. and float, which Johnson needlessly substituted.

Ant. I will be treble-sinew'd, hearted, breath'd,
And fight maliciously: for when mine hours
Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives
Of me for jests; but now, I'll set my teeth,
And send to darkness all that stop me.-Come,
Let's have one other gaudy night.—Call to me
All my sad captains: fill our bowls; once more
Let's mock the midnight bell.

Cleo.

It is my birthday: I had thought, to have held it poor; but since my lord Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra.

Ant. We will yet do well.

Cleo. Call all his noble captains to my lord.

Ant. Do so, we'll speak to them; and to-night I'll force

The wine peep through their scars.-Come on, my

queen;

There's sap in't yet. The next time I do fight,
I'll make death love me, for I will contend
Even with his pestilent scythe.

[Exeunt ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, and Attendants.
Eno. 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 captain's brain

Restores his heart. When valour preys on reason',
It eats the sword it fights with. I will seek
Some way to leave him.

[Exit.

one other GAUDY night.] i. e. night of joy, from gaudium: the expression of "gaudy days" is still in use in the Inns of Court, though now more commonly called grand days. According to Holloway's “General Provincial Dictionary," 8vo. 1838, the expression "gaudy day" is still used in Essex, and we have heard it also in Suffolk.

preys on reason,] In the folios, " preys in reason."

ACT IV. SCENE I.

CAESAR'S Camp at Alexandria.

Enter CÆSAR, reading a Letter; AGRIPPA, MECENAS, and Others.

Cæs. He calls me boy, and chides, as he had power To beat me out of Egypt; my messenger

He hath whipp'd with rods, dares me to personal com

bat,

Cæsar to Antony: let the old ruffian know,
I have many other ways to die', mean time,
Laugh at his challenge.

Mec.

Cæsar must think,

When one so great begins to rage, he's hunted
Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now
Make boot of his distraction. Never anger
Made good guard for itself.

Let our best heads

Cæs.
Know, that to-morrow the last of many battles
We mean to fight. Within our files there are,
Of those that serv'd Mark Antony but late,
Enough to fetch him in. See it done;
And feast the army: we have store to do't,
And they have earn'd the waste. Poor Antony!

[Exeunt.

1 I HAVE many other ways to die,] Sir T. Hanmer read, consistently with Plutarch," He hath many other ways to die." Farmer observes, that the ambiguity of the old English translation of Plutarch, by Sir T. North, led Shakespeare to say “I have," &c. ; but Cæsar only seems contemplating the possibility that he might fall by the sword of Antony.

SCENE II.

Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.

Enter ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUS, CHARMIAN, IRAS, ALEXAS, and Others.

Ant. He will not fight with me, Domitius.

Eno.

Ant. Why should he not?

No.

Eno. He thinks, being twenty times of better for

tune,

He is twenty men to one.

Ant.

To-morrow, soldier, By sea and land I'll fight: or I will live,

Or bathe my dying honour in the blood

Shall make it live again. Woo't thou fight well?
Eno. I'll strike; and cry, "Take all."

Ant.

Well said; come on. Call forth my household servants: let's to-night

Enter Servants.

Be bounteous at our meal.-Give me thy hand,
Thou hast been rightly honest;-so hast thou ;-

Thou, and thou,-and thou:-you have serv'd me

well,

And kings have been your fellows.

Cleo.

What means this?

Eno. "Tis one of those odd tricks, which sorrow

shoots

Out of the mind.

Ant.

And thou art honest too.

I wish, I could be made so many men,
And all of you clapp'd up together in
An Antony, that I might do you service,

So good as you have done.

Serv.

The gods forbid!

Ant. Well, my good fellows, wait on me to-night; Scant not my cups, and make as much of me, As when mine empire was your fellow too, And suffer'd my command.

Cleo.

What does he mean?

Eno. To make his followers weep.
Ant.

Tend me to-night;

May be, it is the period of your duty:
Haply, you shall not see me more; or if,
A mangled shadow: perchance, to-morrow
You'll serve another master. I look on you,
As one that takes his leave. Mine honest friends,
I turn you not away; but, like a master
Married to your good service, stay till death.
Tend me to-night two hours, I ask no more,
And the gods yield you for't!

Eno.

To give them this discomfort?

What mean you, sir,

Look, they weep;

Ho, ho, ho!

And I, an ass, am onion-ey'd: for shame,
Transform us not to women.

Ant.

Now, the witch take me, if I meant it thus.

Grace grow where those drops fall!

friends,

You take me in too dolorous a sense,

My hearty

For I spake to you for your comfort; did desire you
To burn this night with torches. Know, my hearts,
I hope well of to-morrow; and will lead you,
Where rather I'll expect victorious life,

Than death and honour. Let's to supper; come,
And drown consideration.

[Exeunt.