"Reftores his heart; when valour preys on reafon, It eats the fword it fights with: I will feek Some way to leave him. [Exit. A CT IV. SCENE I CESAR's Camp. Enter Cæfar, Agrippa, and Mecenas, with their Army. Cæfar reading a Letter. CESAR. Habeat me out of Egypt. My meffenger He hath whipt with rods, dares me to perfonal combat, I have many other ways to die: mean time, Mec. Cæfar muft think, When one fo great begins to rage, he's hunted Caf. Let our best heads Know that to morrow the laft of many battles Enter Antony and Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Charmian, Iras, Alexas, with others. Ant. HE will not fight with me, Domitius. No. Ant. Why fhould he not? Eno. He thinks, being twenty times of better fortune, He's twenty men to one. Ant. To morrow, foldier, By fea 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 ftrike, and cry, "take all. Ant. Well faid, come on: Call forth my houfhold fervants, let's to night Enter Servants. Be bounteous at our meal. Give me thy hand, And thou, and thou, and thou: you've serv'd me well Cleo. What means this? I Eno. 'Tis one of those odd Traits, which forrow fhoots 1 'Tis one of thofe odd TRICKS,] The uniformity of the metaphor leads us to fee that Shakespear wrote TRAITS, arrows, fhafts. A fimilar expreffion we have in Cymbeline: 'Twas but a bolt of nothing, hot at nothing, which the brain makes of fumes. J'ai eté quelque tems à entendre ce que vous voulez me dire par un TRAIT que vos tirez contre moi, fays M. de Turenne in one of his letters; where the word trait has much the fame fignification as in the place before us. The Oxford Editor alters it to freaks; but fure any thing which is predicated of freaks may be predicated of tricks, and nonfenfe for nonfenfe, the old fhould keep its ground as being in poffeffion. Out Out of the mind. Ant. And thou art honeft too: I with, I could be made fo many men; An Antony; that I might do you fervice, Omnes. 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 fuffer'd my command. Cleo. What does he mean? Eno. To make his followers weep. May be, it is the period of your duty; Married to your good fervice, ftay till death: Eno. What mean you, Sir, To give them this difcomfort? look, they weep. Transform us not to women. Ant. Ho, ho, ho! Now the witch take me, if I meant it thus! Grace grow, where thofe drops fall! my hearty friends, I fpake t' you for your comfort, did defire you -the witch take me,—] i, e. blast, bewitch. N 3 Than Than death and honour. Let's to fupper, come, [Exeunt. SCENE. A Court of Guard before the Palace. Enter a company of Soldiers. * Sold. Brother, good night: to morrow is the day. 2 Sold. It will determine one way: Fare you well. Heard you of nothing ftrange about the streets? 1 Sold. Nothing: what news? 2 Sold. Belike, 'tis but a rumour; good night to you. 1 Sold. Well, Sir, good night. [They meet with other Soldiers. 2 Sold. Soldiers, have careful watch. 1 Sold. And you, good night, good night. [They place themselves in every corner of the stage. 2 Sold. Here, we; and if to morrow Our navy thrive, I have an absolute hope Our landmen will stand up. I Sold. 'Tis a brave army, and full of purpose. 2 Sold. Peace, what noife? 1 Sold. Lift, lift! 2 Sold. Hark! 1 Sold. Mufick i'th' air.- It fignes well, does it not? 2 Sold. No. 1 Sold. Peace, I fay: what fhould this mean! Now leaves him. 1 Sold. Walk, let's fee if other watchmen Do hear what we do. 2 Sold. How now, mafters? [Speak together. Omnes. Omnes. How now? how now? do you hear this? 1 Sold. Is't not strange? 3 Sold. Do you hear, mafters? do you hear? I Sold. Follow the noise fo far as we have quarter, Let's fee how 'twill give off. Omnes. Content: 'tis ftrange. [Exeunt. Changes to Cleopatra's Palace. Enter Antony and Cleopatra, with others. Ant. EROS, mine armour, Eros. Sleep a little. Ant. No, my chuck: Eros, come, mine armour, Eros. Enter Eros. Come, my good fellow, put thine iron on ; Cleo. Nay, I'll help too, Antony. What's this for? ah, let be, let be; thou art The armourer of my heart;-falfe, false; this, this ;Sooth-la, I'll help: thus it must be. Ant. Well, well, we fhall thrive now; Seeft thou, my good fellow? Go, put on thy defences. Eno. Briefly, Sir. Cleo. Is not this buckled well? Ant. Rarely, rarely: He that unbuckles this, till we do please To doff't for our repose, fhall hear a storm. Thou fumbleft, Eros; and my Queen's a fquire More tight at this than thou; dispatch. O love! That thou could'st see my wars to day, and knew’st N 4 The |