Caf. What would you more?-Pompey, good night.
Good brother,

Let me requeft you off: our graver business
Frowns at this levity.-Gentle lords, let's part;
You fee, we have burnt our cheeks: ftrong Enobarbe
Is weaker than the wine; and mine own tongue
Splits what it fpeaks: the wild difguife, hath almoft
Antick'd us all. What needs more words? Good
night.-

Good Antony, your hand.

Pom. I'll try you on the fhore.

Ant. And fhall, fir: give us your hand.

Pom. O, Antony, you have my father's house,But what? we are friends: Come, down into the boat, Eno. Take heed you fall not.

[Exeunt Poм. CÆS. ANT. and Attendants.

Menas I'll not on fhore.

Men. No, to my cabin.

Thefe drums!-thefe trumpets, flutes! what!

Let Neptune hear we bid a loud farewel

'To thefe great fellows: Sound, and be hang'd, found out.

[A flourish of trumpets, with drums.

Eno. Ho, fays 'a !-There's my cap.
Men. Ho!-noble captain! Come!

ACT III.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.

A Plain in Syria.

Enter VENTIDIUS, as after conqueft, with SILIUS and other Romans, officers, and foldiers; the dead body of Pacorus borne before him.

Ven. Now, darting Parthia, art thou ftruck 3; and now Pleas'd fortune does of Marcus Craffus' death

Make me revenger.-Bear the king's fon's body
Before our army:-Thy Pacorus, Orodes 4,

Pays

3 Thou whofe darts have fo often ftruck others, art ftruck now thyfelf.

4 Pacorus was the fon of Orodes, king of Parthia.

Whilft yet with Parthian blood thy fword is warm,
The fugitive Parthians follow; fpur through Media,
Mefopotamia, and the shelters whither

The routed fly: fo thy grand captain Antony
Shall fet thee on triumphant chariots, and
Put garlands on thy head.

Ven. O Silius, Silius,

I have done enough: A lower place, note well,
May make too great an act: For learn this, Silius;
Better to leave undone, than by our deed

Acquire too high a fame, when him we ferve's away.
Cæfar, and Antony, have ever won

More in their officer, than perfon: Soffius,
One of my place in Syria, his lieutenant,
For quick accumulation of renown,

Which he achiev'd by the minute, loft his favour.
Who does i' the wars more than his captain can,
Becomes his captain's captain: and ambition,
The foldier's virtue, rather makes choice of lofs,
Than gain, which darkens him.

I could do more to do Antonius good,

But 'twould offend him; and in his offence
Should my performance perish.

Sil. Thou haft, Ventidius, that,

Without the which a foldier, and his fword,

Grants scarce diftinction. Thou wilt write to Antony?

Ven. I'll humbly fignify what in his name,

That magical word of war, we have effected;

How, with his banners, and his well-paid ranks,

The ne'er-yet-beaten horfe of Parthia

We have jaded out o' the field.

Sil. Where is he now ?

Ven. He purpofeth to Athens: whither with what hafte The weight we must convey with us will permit,

We shall appear before him.-On, there; pafs along.

G 4

[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE II.

Rome. An Ante-chamber in Cæfar's House.

Enter AGRIPPA, and ENOBARBUS, meeting.

Agr. What, are the brothers parted?

Eno. They have difpatch'd with Pompey, he is gone; The other three are fealing. Octavia weeps

To part from Rome: Cæfar is fad; and Lepidus,
Since Pompey's feaft, as Menas fays, is troubled
With the green fickness.

Agr. 'Tis a noble Lepidus.

Eno. A very fine one: O, how he loves Cæfar!
Agr. Nay, but how dearly he adores Mark Antony!
Eno. Cæfar? Why, he's the Jupiter of men.
Agr. What's Antony? The god of Jupiter.
Eno. Spake you of Cæfar? How? the nonpareil!
Agr. O Antony! O thou Arabian bird' !

Eno. Would you praife Cæfar, fay,-Cæfar;-go no further.

Agr. Indeed, he ply'd them both with excellent praises. Eno. But he loves Cæfar beft;-Yet he loves Antony: Ho! hearts, tongues, figures, fcribes, bards, poets,

cannot

Think, fpeak, caft, write, fing, number, ho,
His love to Antony. But as for Cæfar,
Kneel down, kneel down, and wonder.

Agr. Both he loves.

Eno. They are his fhards, and he their beetle 7. So,

5-Arabian bird!] The phoenix.

This

Not only the tautology of bards and poets, but the want of a correfpondent action for the poet, whofe business in the next line is only to number, makes me fufpect fome fault in this paffage, which I know not how to mend. JOHNSON.

I fufpect no fault. The ancient bard fung his compofitions to the harp; the poet only commits them to paper. Verfes are often called numbers, and to number, a verb (in this fenfe) of Shakspeare's coining, is to make verses.

This puerile arrangement of words was much studied in the age of Shakspeare, even by the first writers. STEEVENS.

7 i. e. They are the wings that raise this beavy lumpish, infeɛt from the ground.

This is to horfe.-Adieu, noble Agrippa. [Trumpets.
Agr. Good fortune, worthy foldier; and farewel."
Enter CESAR, ANTONY, LEPIDUS, and OCTAVIA.
Ant. No further, fir.

Caf. You take from me a great part of myself;
Use me well in it.-Sifter, prove fuch a wife
As my thoughts make thee, and as my fartheft band
Shall pass on thy approof.-Moft noble Antony,
Let not the piece of virtue, which is fet
Betwixt us, as the cement of our love,
To keep it builded, be the ram, to batter
The fortrefs of it: for better might we

Have lov'd without this mean, if on both parts
This be not cherish'd.

Ant. Make me not offended

In your diftruit.

Caf. I have faid.

Ant. You shall not find,

Though you be therein curious, the leaft caufe
For what you feem to fear: So, the gods keep you
And make the hearts of Romans ferve your ends!
We will here part.

Caf. Farewel, my dearest fifter, fare thee well;
The elements be kind to thee, and make
Thy fpirits all of comfort! fare thee well.
Octa. My noble brother!-

Ant. The April's in her eyes; It is love's fpring,
And these the showers to bring it on :-Be cheerful.
Oda. Sir, look well to my husband's houfe; and-
Caf. What, Octavia ?

Oa. I'll tell you in your ear.

Ant. Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can Her heart inform her tongue: the swan's down feather, That ftands upon the fwell at the full of tide,

G5

And

8 As I will venture the greatest pledge of fecurity, on the trial of thy conduct.

9 This is obfcure. It feems to mean, May the different elements of the body, or principles of life, maintain fuch proportion and harmony as may keep you cheerful. JOHNSON.

Agr. He has a cloud in his face.

[Afide to Agrippa.

Eno. He were the worse for that, were he a horfe1;

So is he, being a man.

Agr. Why, Enobarbus ?

When Antony found Julius Cæfar dead,

He cried almost to roaring:, and he wept,

When at Philippi he found Brutus flain.

Eno. That year, indeed, he was troubled with a rheum; What willingly he did confound, he wail'd :

Believe it, till I weep too.

Cef. No, fweet Octavia,

You fhall hear from me ftill; the time shall not
Out-go my thinking on you.

Ant. Come, fir, come;

I'll wrestle with you in my ftrength of love :
Look, here I have you.; thus I let you go,
And give you to the gods.

Cef. Adieu; be happy!

Lep. Let all the number of the ftars give light

To thy fair way!

Caf. Farewel, farewel!

Ant. Farewel!

Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.

Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS.

Cleo. Where is the fellow ?

Alex. Half afeard to come.

Cleo. Go to, go to:-Come hither, fir.

Enter a Meffenger.

Alex. Good majesty,

Herod

A horfe is faid to have a cloud in bis face, when he has a black or dark-coloured fpot in his forehead between his eyes. This gives him a four look, and being fuppofed to indicate an ill-temper, is of courfe regarded as a great blemish.

2

- be did confound-] i, e. destroy.