Ant. Grates me :-The fum.

Cleo. Nay, hear them, Antony:

Fulvia, perchance, is angry; Or, who knows
If the fcarce-bearded Cæfar have not fent
His powerful mandate to you, Do this, or this;
Take in that kingdom, and enfranchise that;
Perform't, or else we damn thee.
Ant. How, my love!

Cleo. Perchance-nay, and most like,
You must not stay here longer, your difmiffion
Is come from Cæfar; therefore hear it, Antony.-
Where's Fulvia's procefs? Cæfar's, I would fay?-
Both?

Call in the meffengers. As I am Ægypt's queen,
Thou blufheft, Antony; and that blood of thine
Is Cæfar's homager: elfe fo thy cheek pays shame,
When fhrill-tongu'd Fulvia fcolds.-The meffengers.
Ant. Let Rome in Tyber melt! and the wide arch
Of the rang'd empire fall! Here is my space;
Kingdoms are clay: our dungy earth alike
Feeds beaft as man: the noblenefs of life
Is, to do thus; when fuch a mutual pair,

[Embracing.
And fuch a twain can do't; in which, I bind,
On pain of punishment, the world to weet,
We ftand up peerless.

Cleo. Excellent falfehood!

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

Will be himfelf.

Ant. But stirr'd by Cleopatra.

Now, for the love of love, and his foft hours,
Let's not confound the time with conference harsh:
There's not a minute of our lives fhould ftretch

Without

Without fome pleasure now: What sport to-night?
Cleo. Hear the embaffadors.

Ant. Fye, wrangling queen!

Whom every thing becomes, to chide, to laugh,
To weep; whofe every paffion fully ftrives
To make itself, in thee, fair, and admir'd!
No meffenger but thine ;-And all alone,
To-night, we'll wander through the streets, and note
The qualities of people. Come, my queen;
Laft night you did defire it :-Speak not to us.

[Exeunt ANT. and CLEO. with their Train.
Dem. Is Cæfar with Antonius priz'd fo flight?
Phil. Sir, fometimes, when he is not Antony,
He comes too fhort of that great property
Which ftill fhould go with Antony.
Dem. I am full forry,

That he approves the common liar, who

Thus fpeaks of him at Rome: But I will hope
Of better deeds to-morrow.

Reft you happy!

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. Another part of the palace. Enter CHARMIAN, IRAS, ALEXAS, and a Soothfayer. Char. Lord Alexas, fweet Alexas, moft any thing Alexas, almost most abfolute Alexas, where's the foothfayer that you prais'd fo to the queen? O! that I knew this hufband, which, you fay, muft change his horns with garlands.

Alex. Soothlayer.

Sooth. Your will.

Char. Is this the man?-Is't you, fir, that know Sooth. In nature's infinite book of fecrecy, [things? A little I can read.

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

Char. Good fir, give me good fortune.

Sooth. I make not, but foresee.

Char. Pray then, foresee me one.

Sooth. You fhall be yet fairer than you are.

Char. He means, in flesh.

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

Alex. Vex not his prefcience; be attentive.
Char. Hufh!

Sooth. You fhall be more beloving, than belov'd.
Char. I had rather heat my liver with drinking.
Alex. Nay, hear him.

Char. Good now, fome 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 with Octavius Cæfar, and companion me with my mistress!

Sooth. You fhall outlive the lady whom you ferve. Char. O excellent! I love long life better than figs.

Sooth. You have feen and prov'd a fairer former Than that which is to approach. [fortune Char. Then, belike, my children fhall 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 with, a million.

Char. Out, fool! I forgive thee for a witch.

t

Alex. You think, none but your fheets are privy wishes.

to your

Char. Nay, come, tell Iras hers.

Alex. We'll know all our fortunes.

Eno. Mine, and moft of our fortunes, to-night, fhall be-drunk to bed.

Iras. There's a palm prefageth chastity, if nothing elfe.

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

Iras. Go, you wild bedfellow, you cannot foothfay. Char. Nay, if an oily palm be not a fruitful prognoftication, I cannot feratch 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 faid.

Iras. Am I not an inch of fortune better than fhe? Char. Well, if you were but an inch of fortune better than I, where would you choose it?

Iras. Not in my husband's nofe.

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

Irgs. Amen. Dear goddefs, hear that prayer of the people! for, as it is a heart-breaking to fee a handfome man loofe-wiv'd, fo it is a deadly forrow to behold a foul knave uncuckolded; Therefore, dear Ifis, keep decorum, and fortune him accordingly!

Char.

Char. Amen.

Alex. Lo, now! if it lay in their hands to make me a cuckold, they would make themselves whores, but they'd do't.

Eno. Hufh! here comes Antony.

Cleo. He was difpos'd to mirth; but on the fudden! A Roman thought hath ftruck him.-Enobarbus— Eno. Madam.

Cleo. Seek him, and bring him hither. Where's
Alexas?

Alex. Here, at your fervice.-My lord approaches.
Enter ANTONY, with a Meffenger, and Attendants.
Cleo. We will not look upon him: Go with us.
[Exeunt,
Mef. Fulvia thy wife firft came into the field.
Ant. Against my brother Lucius?

Mef. Ay:

But foon that war had end, and the time's ftate Made friends of them, jointing their force 'gainst Whose better iffue in the war, from Italy, [Cæfar; Upon the first encounter, drave them.

Ant. Well, what worst?

Mef. The nature of bad news infects the teller. Ant. 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,