Thou art a fellow of a good respect;

Cli. What ill request did Brutus make to thee? Dar. To kill him, Clitus. Look, he meditates, Cli. Now is that noble vessel full of grief, That it runs over even at his eyes.

Bru. Come hither, good Volumuius: list a word. Vol. What says my lord ?

Bru.

Why, this, Volumnius: The ghost of Cæsar hath appeared to me Two several times by night; at Sardis, once; And this last night, here in Philippi' fields. I know my hour is come.

Vol.

Not so, my lord.

Bru. Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius.
Thou see'st the world, Volumnius, how it goes;
Our enemies have beat us to the pit:
It is more worthy to leap in ourselves,
Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius,
Thou know'st that we two went to school together:
Even for that our love of old, I pray thee,
Hold thou my sword hilts, whilst I run on it.
Vol. That's not an office for a friend, my lord.
[Alarum still.
Cli. Fly, fly, my lord; there is no tarrying here.
Bru. Farewell to you;-and you;-and you, Vol-
umnius.

Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep;
Farewell to thee, too, Strato! Countrymen,
My heart doth joy, that yet, in all my life,

I found no man, but he was true to me.

1 shall have glory by this losing day,
More than Octavius and Mark Antony
By this vile conquest shall attain unto.

So fare you well at once; for Brutus' tongue
Hath almost ended his life's history:

Night hangs upon mine eyes; my bones would rest,
That have but labour'd to attain this hour.
[Alarum. Cry within-Fly, fly, fly.

Cli. Fly, my lord, fly.

Bru.

Hence! I will follow thee. [Exeunt CLITUS, DARDANIUS, and VOLUMNIUS.

I pr'ythee, Strato stay thou by thy lord:

Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it:
Hold, then, my sword, and turn away thy face,
While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato ?
Stra. Give me your hand first: fare you well, my
lord.

Bru. Farewell, good Strato. Cæsar, now be still: I kill'd not thee with half so good a will.

[He runs on his sword, and dies.

Alarum. Retreat, Enter OCTAVIUS, ANTONY,
MESSALA, LUCILIUS, and their army.

Oct, What man is that?
Mes. My master's man.

master ?

Strato, where is thy

Stra, Free from the bondage you are in, Messala;
The conquerors can but make a fire of him;
For Brutus only overcame himself,

And no man else hath honour by his death.
Luc. So Brutus should be found.

Brutus,

I thank thee,

That thou hast prov'd Lucilius' saying true.
Oct. All that serv'd Brutus, I will entertain them.
Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me?
Stra. Ay, if Messala will prefer me to you.
Oct. Do so, Messala.

Mes.
How died thy master, Strato?
Stra. I held the sword, and he did run on it.
Mes. Octavius, then take him to follow thee,
That did the latest service to my master.

Ant. This was the noblest Roman of them all:

All the conspirators, save only he,

Did that they did in envy of great Cæsar;
He, only, in a general honest thought,
And common good to all, made one of them.
His life was gentle; and the elements

So mixed in him, that Nature might stand up,
And say to all the world, This was a man!
Oct. According to his virtue let us use him,
With all respect, and rights of burial.
Within
tent his bones to-night shall lie
my
Most like a soldier, order'd honourably.-
So, call the field to rest: and let's away,
To part the glories of this happy day.

[Exeunt.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

M. ANTONY,

OCTAVIUS CESAR, Triumvirs

Enter DEMETRIUS and PHILO.

Phi. Nay, but this dotage of our general's
O'erflows the measure: those his goodly eyes,
That o'er the files and musters of the war
Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now turn,
The office and devotion of their view

Upon a tawny front: his captain's heart,
Which, in the scuffles of great fights hath burst
The buckles on his breast, reneges all temper;

And is become the bellows and the fan
To cool a gipsy's lust. Look, where they come!
Flourish. Enter ANTONY and CLEOPATRA, with
their Trains; Eunuchs fanning ner.
Take but good note, and you shall see in him
The triple pillar of the world transform'd
Into a strumpet's fool: behold and see.

Cleo. If it be love, indeed, tell me how much,
Ant. There's beggary in the love that can be reck.
on'd.

Cleo. I'll set a bourn how far to be belov'd.
Ant. Then must thou needs find out new heaven,
new earth.

Enter an Attendant. Att. News, my good lord, from Rome. Ant. Grates me:-the sum, Cleo. Nay, hear them, Antony: Fulvia, perchance, is angry: or, who knows If the scarce-bearded Cæsar have not sent His powerful mandate to you: Do this, or this; Take in that kingdom, and enfranchise that; Perform't, or else we damn thee.

Cleo. Perchance,-nay, and most like,
You must not stay here longer,-your dismission
Is come from Cæsar: therefore, hear it, Antony.
Where's Fulvia's process ?-Caesar's, I would say?-
Both ?-

Call in the messengers. As I am Egypt's queen,
Thou blushest, Antony; and that blood of thine
Is Cæsar's homager: else so thy cheek pays shame,
When shrill-tongued Fulvia scolds. The messengers,
Ant. Let Rome in Tyber melt! and the wide arch
Of the rang'd empire fail! here is my space,
Kingdoms are clay: our dungy earth alike
Feeds beast as man: the nobleness of life
Is, to do thus; when such a mutual pair,

[Embracing.

And such a twain can do't, in which I bind, On pain of punishment, the world to weet, We stand up peerless.

Cleo.

Excellent falsehood!

Why did he marry Fulvia, and not love her ?I'll seem the fool I am not; Antony

Will be himself.

Ant.

But stirr'd by Cleopatra.

Now for the love of Love, and her soft hours,
Let's not confound the time with conference harsh:
There's not a minute of our lives should stretch
Without some pleasure now: what sport to-night ?
Cleo. Hear the ambassadors.
Ant.
Fie, wrangling queen!
Whom every thing becomes,-to chide, to laugh,
To weep; whose every passion fully strives
To make itself, in thee, fair and admir'd!
No messenger; but thine and all alone,
To-night, we'll wander through the streets, and note
The qualities of people. Come, my queen;
Last night you did desire it :-speak not to us.

[Exeunt ANT. and CLEOP. with their Train.
Dem. Is Cæsar with Antonius priz'd so slight?
Phi. Sir, sometimes, when he is not Antony,
He comes too short of that great property
Which still should go with Antony,
Dem.
I'm full sorry,
That he approves the common liar, who
Thus speaks of him at Rome: but I will hope
Of better deeds to-morrow. Rest you happy!

[Exeunt

Eno. Bring in the banquet quickly; wine enough, Cleopatra's health to drink.

Chur, Good sir, give me good fortune.

Sooth. I make not, but foresee.

Char. Pray then, foresee me one.

Sooth. You shall be yet far fairer than you are.
Char. He means, in flesh.

Iras. No, you shall paint when you are old.
Char. Wrinkles forbid!

Alex. Vex not his prescience; be attentive.
Char. Hush!

Sooth. You shall be more beloving than beloved.
Char, I had rather heat my liver with drinking.
Alex. Nay, hear him.

Char. Good now, some excellent fortune; let me be married to three kings in a forenoon, and widow them all let me have a child at fifty, to whom Herod of Jewry may do homage: find me to marry me with Octavius Cæsar, and companion me with my mistress.

Sooth. You shall outlive the lady whom you serve. Char. O excellent! I love long life better than figs. Sooth. You have seen and proved a fairer former fortune

Than that which is to approach.

Char. Then, belike my children shall have no names: pr'ythee, how many boys and wenches must I have?

Sooth. If every of your wishes had a womb,

And fertile every wish, a million.

Char. Out, fool! I forgive thee for a witch. Alex. You think, none but your sheets are privy to your wishes,

Char. Nay, come, tell Iras hers.

Alex. We'll know all our fortunes.

Eno. Mine, and most of our fortunes, to-night, shall be-drunk to bed.

Iras. There's a palm presages chastity, if nothing else.

Char. Even as the o'erflowing Nilus presageth famine.

Iras. Go, you wild bedfellow, you cannot soothsay. Char. Nay, if an oily palm be not a fruitful prog nostication, I cannot scratch mine ear.-Pr'ythee, tell her but a worky-day fortune.

Sooth. Your fortunes are alike.

Iras. But how, but how ? give me particulars.
Sooth. I have said.

Iras. Am I not an inch of fortune better than she?
Char. Well, if you were but an inch of fortune bet-
ter than I, where would you choose it?
Iras. Not in my husband's nose.

Char. Our worser thoughts heavens mend! Alexas, -come, his fortune, his fortune. O, let him marry a woman that cannot go, sweet Isis, I beseech thee! And let her die, too, and give him a worse! and let worse follow worse, till the worst of all follow him laughing to his grave, fifty-fold a cuckold! Good Isis, hear me this prayer, though thou deny me a matter of more weight; good Isis, I beseech thee!

Iras. Amen. Dear goddess, hear that prayer of the people! for, as it is a heart-breaking to see a handsome man loose-wived, so it is a deadly sorrow to behold a foul knave uncuckolded: therefore, dear Isis, keep decorum, and fortune him accordingly.

Char. Amen.

Cleo.

Was he not here ?

Char, No, madam.

but on the sud

Cleo. He was dispos'd to mirth;

den

A Roman thought hath struck him. Enobarbus,Eno. Madam.

Cleo. Seek him, and bring him hither.

Alexas?

Where's

Alex. Here, madam, at your service. My lord approaches.

Enter ANTONY, with a Messenger, and Attendants. Cleo. We will not look upon him: go with us.

[Exeunt CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUS, ALEXAS, Iras, CHARMIAN, Soothsayer, and Attendants. Mess. Fulvia thy wife first came into the field. Ant. Against my brother Lucius?

Mess. Ay:

But soon that war had end, and the time's state Made friends of them, joining their force 'gainst

Cæsar;

Whose better issue in the war, from Italy,

Upon the first encounter, drave them.

Ant. What worst?

Well,

Mess. The nature of bad news infects the teller. Aut. When it concerns the fool, or coward,-On: Things that are past, are done with me.-Tis thus: Who tells me true, though in his tale lie death, I hear him as he flatter'd.

Labienus

Mess.
(This is stiff news) hath, with his Parthian force,
Extended Asia from Euphrates;

His conquering banner shook, from Syria
To Lydia, and to Ionia;
Whilst

Ant. Antony, thou wouldst say,-
Mess.

O, my lord! Ant. Speak to me home, mince not the general tongue;

Name Cleopatra as she's call'd in Rome;
Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase; and taunt my faults
With such full licence, as both truth and malice
Have power to utter. O, then we bring forth weeds,
When our quick winds lie still; and our ills, told us,
Is as our earing. Fare thee well a while.
Mess. At your noble pleasure.

[Exit.

Ant. From Sicyon how the news?-Speak there. 1 Att. The man from Sicyon. Is there such a one ?

2 Att. He stays upon your will.
Ant.
Let him appear.-
These strong Egyptian fetters I must break,
Enter another Messenger.

Or lose myself in dotage. What are you?
2 Mess, Fulvia thy wife is dead.
Ant.

2 Mess. In Sicyon :

Where died she ?

Her length of sickness, with what else more serious
Importeth thee to know, this bears. [Gives a letter.
Ant.
Forbear me.

[Exit Messenger.
There's a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it:
What our contempts do often hurl from us,
We wish it ours again; the present pleasure,
By revolution lowering, does become
The opposite of itself: she's good, being gone;
The hand could pluck her back, that shov'd her on.
I must from this enchanting queen break off;
Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know,
My idleness doth hatch. How now! Enobarbus!
Enter ENOBARBUS.

Eno. What's your pleasure, sir?

Ant. I must with haste from hence.

Eno. Why, then, we kill all our women: we fee how mortal an unkindness is to them; if they sufer our departure, death's the word.

Ant. I must be gone.

Eno. Under a compelling occasion, let women die : it were pity to cast them away for nothing; though, between them and a great cause, they should be esteemed nothing. Cleopatra, catching but the least noise of this, dies instantly: I have seen her die twenty times upon far poorer moment: I do think there is mettle in death, which commits some loving act upon her,' she hath such a celerity in dying.

Ant. She is cunning past man's thought.

Eno. Alack, sir, no; her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love: we cannot call her winds and waters, sighs and tears; they are greater storms and tempests than almanacks can report: this cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a shower of rain as well as Jove.

Ant, 'Would I had never seen her!

Eno. O, sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece of work; which not to have been blessed withal, would have discredited your travel.

Ant. Fulvia is dead.

Eno. Sir?

Ant. Fulvia is dead. Eno. Fulvia P

Ant. Dead.

Eno. Why, sir, give the gods a thankful sacrifice. When it pleaseth their deities to take the wife of a man from him, it shows to man the tailors of the earth; comforting 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 consolation; your old smock brings forth a new petticoat :-and, indeed, the tears live in an onion, that should water this sorrow.

Ant. The business she hath broached in the state, Cannot endure my absence.

Eno. And the business you have broached here cannot be without you; especially that of Cleopatra's, which wholly depends on your abode.

Ant. No more light answers. Let our officers Have notice what we purpose. I shall break The cause of our expedience to the queen, And get her love to part. For not alone The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches, Do strongly speak to us; but the letters, too, Of many our contriving friends in Rome Petition us at home: Sextus Pompeius Hath given the dare to Cæsar, and commands The empire of the sea: our slippery people (Whose love is never link'd to the deserver, Till his deserts are past,) begin to throw 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 serpent's poison. Say, our pleasure, To such whose place is under us, requires

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. Char. Madam, methinks, if you did love him dearly,

You do not hold the method to enforce
The like from him,
Cleo.

What should I do, I do not? Char. In each thing give him way, cross him in nothing.

Cleo. Thou teachest like a fool: the way to lose

Though you in swearing shake the throned gods, Who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous maduess, To be entangled with these mouth-made vows, Which break themselves in swearing!

Most sweet queen,

Ant.
Cleo. 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.

Ant.
How now, lady!
Cleo. I would, I had thy inches; thou shouldst
know,
There were a heart in Egypt.
Ant.
Hear me, queen:
The strong necessity of time commands
Our services a while; 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

Breeds 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 thriv'd
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.

Cleo. Though age from folly could not give me freedom,

It does from childishness. Can Fulvia die?
Ant. She's dead, my queen:

Look here, and, at thy sovereign leisure, read
The garboils she awak'd; at the last, best;
See, when and where she died.

Cleo.
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 receiv'à shall be.
Ant. Quarrel no more, but be prepar'd to know
The purposes I bear; which are, or cease,
As you shall give the advice. Now, by the fire,
That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence,
Thy soldier, servant; making peace or war,
As thou affect'st.

Cleo. Cut my lace, Charmian, come:-
But let it be. I am quickly ill, and well-
So Antony loves.

Ant.

My precious queen, forbear,

And give true evidence to his love, which stands An honourable trial.

Cleo.

So Fulvia told me.

I pr'ythee, 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
Like perfect honour.

Ant.
You'll heat my blood-no more.
Cleo. You can do better yet; but this is meetly.
Ant. Now, by my sword,-
Cleo.
And target. Still he mends;
But this is not the best look, pr'ythee, Charmian,
How this Herculean Roman does become

SCENE IV.- Rome. An Apartment in Cæsar's House.

Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, LEPIDUS, and Attendants.
Cæs. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know,
It is not Cæsar'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 manlike
Than Cleopatra; nor the queen of Ptolemy
More womanly than he: hardly gave audience, or
Vouchsaf'd to think he had partners. You shall find
there

A man, who is the abstract of all faults
That all men follow.

Lep.
I must not think, there are
Evils enough to darken all his goodness:
His faults, in him, seem as the spots of heaven,
More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary,
Rather than purchas'd; what he cannot change,
Than what he chooses.

Cas. 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

And so rebel to judgment.

Lep.

Enter a Messenger.
Here's more news.

Mess. Thy biddings have been done; and every hour,

Most noble Cæsar, shalt thou have report
How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea;
And it appears, he is belov'd of those
That only have fear'd Cæsar: to the ports
The discontents repair, and men's reports
Give him much wrong'd.

Cœs,

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 lov'd, till ne'er worth love,
Comes dear'd by being lacked. This common body,
Like a vagabond flag upon the stream,

Goes to, and back, lackeying the varying tide,
To rot itself with motion.

Mess.
Cæsar, 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.

Cæs.

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 ail 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.

Lep.

It is pity of him.

Ces. 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.

Lep.

To-morrow, Cæsar,

I shall be furnished to inform you rightly
Both what by sea and land I can be able
To 'front this present time.
Cæs.

Till which encounter,
It is my business, too. Farewell!

Lep. Farewell, my lord: what you shall know mean

time

Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir,
To let me be partaker.
Cæs.

I knew it for

Doubt not, sir;

my bond.

[Exeunt.

What Venus did with Mars.

O, Charmian,

Clco. 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
mov'st ?

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 Cæsar,
When thou wast here above the ground, I was
A morsel for a monarch: and great Pompey
Would staud, and make his eyes grow in my brow;
There would he anchor his aspect, and die
With looking on his life.

Alex.

Enter ALEXAS.

Sovereign of Egypt, hail! Cleo. 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?
Alex. Last thing he did, dear queen,

He kiss'd, the last of many doubled kisses,-
This orient pearl:-his speech sticks in my heart.
Cleo. Mine ear must pluck it thence.
Alex.
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 a termagant steed,

Who neigh'd so high, that, what I would have spoke,
Was beastly dumb'd by him.

Cleo.

What, was he sad, or merry?

Alex. Like to the time o' the year, between the ex

tremes

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

Cleo. 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 ?
Alex. Ay, madam, twenty several messengers:
Why do you send so thick?

Cleo.

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 Cæsar so?

Char.

O, that brave Cæsar!

Cleo, Be choked with such another emphasis ! Bay, the brave Antony.

The valiant Cæsar!

Char. Cleo. By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth, If thou with Cæsar paragon again

My man of men.

Char.

My salad days!

By your most gracious pardon, I sing but after you. Cleo. 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.

ACT II.

[Exeunt.

From Silvius, sir. Pom. He dreams; I know they are in Rome together,

Looking for Antony: but all charms of love,
Salt Cleopatra, soften thy wan'd lip!

Let witchcraft join with beauty-lust with both!
Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts,
Keep his brain fuming; epicurean cooks,
Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite;
That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honour,
Even till a Lethe'd dulness. How now, Varrius ?
Enter VARRIUS.

Var. This is most certain that I shall deliver:
Mark Antony is every hour in Rome

Expected; since he went from Egypt, 'tis
A space for further travel.
Pom.

I could have given less matter
A better ear. Menas, I did not think
This amorous surfeiter would have don'd his helm
For such a petty war: his soldiership
Is twice the other twain: but let us rear
The higher our opinion, that our stirring
Can from the lap of Egypt's widow pluck
The ne'er lust-wearied Antony.
Men.
I cannot hope
Cæsar and Antony shall well greet together:
His wife, that's dead, did trespasses to Cæsar;
His brother warr'd upon him; although, I think,
Not mov'd by Antony.

Pom. know not, Menas, How lesser enmities may give way to greater. Were't not that we stand up against them all, 'Twere pregnant they should square between themselves;

For they have entertained cause enough

To draw their swords: but how the fear of us
May cement their divisions, and bind up
The petty difference, we yet not know.

Be it as our gods will have it! It only stands
Our lives upon, to use our strongest hands.
Come, Menas.

Eno.

Enter ANTONY and VENTIDIUS.

And yonder Cæsar.

Enter CESAR, MECENAS, and AGRIPPA. Ant. If we compose well here, to Parthia: Hark you, Ventidius. Cæs. I do not know,

Macænas; ask Agrippa.

Noble friends,

Lep. That which combined us was most great, and let not A leaner action rend us. What's amiss,

May it be gently heard: when we debate

Our trivial difference loud, we do commit

Murder in healing wounds: then, noble partners

(The rather, for I earnestly beseech),