Front matter (continued 48)

Lod. Is this the Noble Moore, whom our full Senate Call all in all sufficient? Is this the Nature Whom Passion could not shake? Whose solid vertue The shot of Accident, nor dart of Chance Could neither graze, nor pierce? Iago. He is much chang'd

Lod. Are his wits safe? Is he not light of Braine? Iago. He's that he is: I may not breath my censure. What he might be: if what he might, he is not, I would to heauen he were

Lod. What? Strike his wife? Iago. 'Faith that was not so well: yet would I knew That stroke would proue the worst

Lod. Is it his vse? Or did the Letters, worke vpon his blood, And new create his fault? Iago. Alas, alas: It is not honestie in me to speake What I haue seene, and knowne. You shall obserue him, And his owne courses will denote him so, That I may saue my speech: do but go after And marke how he continues

Lod. I am sorry that I am deceiu'd in him.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Othello and aemilia.

Othe. You haue seene nothing then? Aemil. Nor euer heard: nor euer did suspect

Othe. Yes, you haue seene Cassio, and she together

Aemi. But then I saw no harme: and then I heard, Each syllable that breath made vp betweene them

Othe. What? Did they neuer whisper? Aemil. Neuer my Lord

Othe. Nor send you out o'th' way? Aemil. Neuer

Othe. To fetch her Fan, her Gloues, her Mask, nor nothing? Aemil. Neuer my Lord

Othe. That's strange. Aemil. I durst (my Lord) to wager, she is honest: Lay downe my Soule at stake: If you thinke other, Remoue your thought. It doth abuse your bosome: If any wretch haue put this in your head, Let Heauen requit it with the Serpents curse, For if she be not honest, chaste, and true, There's no man happy. The purest of their Wiues Is foule as Slander

Othe. Bid her come hither: go.

Exit aemilia.

She saies enough: yet she's a simple Baud That cannot say as much. This is a subtile Whore: A Closset Locke and Key of Villanous Secrets, And yet she'le kneele, and pray: I haue seene her do't. Enter Desdemona, and aemilia.

Des. My Lord, what is your will? Othe. Pray you Chucke come hither

Des. What is your pleasure? Oth. Let me see your eyes: looke in my face

Des. What horrible Fancie's this? Othe. Some of your Function Mistris: Leaue Procreants alone, and shut the doore: Cough, or cry hem; if any body come: Your Mystery, your Mystery: May dispatch.

Exit aemi.

Des. Vpon my knee, what doth your speech import? I vnderstand a Fury in your words

Othe. Why? What art thou? Des. Your wife my Lord: your true and loyall wife

Othello. Come sweare it: damne thy selfe, least being like one of Heauen, the diuells themselues should feare to ceaze thee. Therefore be double damn'd: sweare thou art honest

Des. Heauen doth truely know it

Othe. Heauen truely knowes, that thou art false as hell

Des. To whom my Lord? With whom? How am I false? Othe. Ah Desdemon, away, away, away

Des. Alas the heauy day: why do you weepe? Am I the motiue of these teares my Lord? If happely you my Father do suspect, An Instrument of this your calling backe, Lay not your blame on me: if you haue lost him, I haue lost him too

Othe. Had it pleas'd Heauen, To try me with Affliction, had they rain'd All kind of Sores, and Shames on my bare-head: Steep'd me in pouertie to the very lippes. Giuen to Captiuitie, me, and my vtmost hopes, I should haue found in some place of my Soule A drop of patience. But alas, to make me The fixed Figure for the time of Scorne, To point his slow, and mouing finger at. Yet could I beare that too, well, very well: But there where I haue garnerd vp my heart, Where either I must liue, or beare no life, The Fountaine from the which my currant runnes, Or else dries vp: to be discarded thence, Or keepe it as a Cesterne, for foule Toades To knot and gender in. Turne thy complexion there: Patience, thou young and Rose-lip'd Cherubin, I heere looke grim as hell

Des. I hope my Noble Lord esteemes me honest

Othe. Oh I, as Sommer Flyes are in the Shambles, That quicken euen with blowing. Oh thou weed: Who art so louely faire, and smell'st so sweete, That the Sense akes at thee, Would thou had'st neuer bin borne

Des. Alas, what ignorant sin haue I committed? Othe. Was this faire Paper? This most goodly Booke Made to write Whore vpon? What commited, Committed? Oh, thou publicke Commoner, I should make very Forges of my cheekes, That would to Cynders burne vp Modestie, Did I but speake thy deedes. What commited? Heauen stoppes the Nose at it, and the Moone winks: The baudy winde that kisses all it meetes, Is hush'd within the hollow Myne of Earth And will not hear't. What commited? Des. By Heauen you do me wrong

Othe. Are not you a Strumpet? Des. No, as I am a Christian. If to preserue this vessell for my Lord, From any other foule vnlawfull touch Be not to be a Strumpet, I am none

Othe. What, not a Whore? Des. No, as I shall be sau'd

Othe. Is't possible? Des. Oh Heauen forgiue vs

Othe. I cry you mercy then. I tooke you for that cunning Whore of Venice, That married with Othello. You Mistris, Enter aemilia.

That haue the office opposite to Saint Peter, And keepes the gate of hell. You, you: I you. We haue done our course: there's money for your paines: I pray you turne the key, and keepe our counsaile. Enter.

Aemil. Alas, what do's this Gentleman conceiue? How do you Madam? how do you my good Lady? Des. Faith, halfe a sleepe

Aemi. Good Madam, What's the matter with my Lord? Des. With who? Aemil. Why, with my Lord, Madam? Des. Who is thy Lord? Aemil. He that is yours, sweet Lady

Des. I haue none: do not talke to me, aemilia, I cannot weepe: nor answeres haue I none, But what should go by water. Prythee to night, Lay on my bed my wedding sheetes, remember, And call thy husband hither. Aemil. Heere's a change indeed. Enter.

Des. 'Tis meete I should be vs'd so: very meete. How haue I bin behau'd, that he might sticke The small'st opinion on my least misvse? Enter Iago, and aemilia.

Iago. What is your pleasure Madam? How is't with you? Des. I cannot tell: those that do teach yong Babes Do it with gentle meanes, and easie taskes. He might haue chid me so; for in good faith I am a Child to chiding

Iago. What is the matter Lady? Aemil. Alas (Iago) my Lord hath so bewhor'd her, Throwne such dispight, and heauy termes vpon her That true hearts cannot beare it

Des. Am I that name, Iago? Iago. What name, (faire Lady?) Des. Such as she said my Lord did say I was. Aemil. He call'd her whore: a Begger in his drinke: Could not haue laid such termes vpon his Callet

Iago. Why did he so? Des. I do not know: I am sure I am none such

Iago. Do not weepe, do not weepe: alas the day. Aemil. Hath she forsooke so many Noble Matches? Her Father? And her Country? And her Friends? To be call'd Whore? Would it not make one weepe? Des. It is my wretched Fortune

Iago. Beshrew him for't: How comes this Tricke vpon him? Des. Nay, Heauen doth know

Aemi. I will be hang'd, if some eternall Villaine, Some busie and insinuating Rogue, Some cogging, cozening Slaue, to get some Office, Haue not deuis'd this Slander: I will be hang'd else

Iago. Fie, there is no such man: it is impossible

Des. If any such there be, Heauen pardon him. Aemil. A halter pardon him: And hell gnaw his bones. Why should he call her Whore? Who keepes her companie? What Place? What Time? What Forme? What liklyhood? The Moore's abus'd by some most villanous Knaue, Some base notorious Knaue, some scuruy Fellow. Oh Heauens, that such companions thou'd'st vnfold, And put in euery honest hand a whip To lash the Rascalls naked through the world, Euen from the East to th' West

Iago. Speake within doore. Aemil. Oh fie vpon them: some such Squire he was That turn'd your wit, the seamy-side without, And made you to suspect me with the Moore

Iago. You are a Foole: go too

Des. Alas Iago, What shall I do to win my Lord againe? Good Friend, go to him: for by this light of Heauen, I know not how I lost him. Heere I kneele: If ere my will did trespasse 'gainst his Loue, Either in discourse of thought, or actuall deed, Or that mine Eyes, mine Eares, or any Sence Delighted them: or any other Forme. Or that I do not yet, and euer did, And euer will, (though he do shake me off To beggerly diuorcement) Loue him deerely, Comfort forsweare me. Vnkindnesse may do much, And his vnkindnesse may defeat my life, But neuer taynt my Loue. I cannot say Whore, It do's abhorre me now I speake the word, To do the Act, that might the addition earne, Not the worlds Masse of vanitie could make me

Iago. I pray you be content: 'tis but his humour: The businesse of the State do's him offence

Des. If 'twere no other

Iago. It is but so, I warrant, Hearke how these Instruments summon to supper: The Messengers of Venice staies the meate, Go in, and weepe not: all things shall be well.

Exeunt. Desdemona and aemilia.

Enter Rodorigo.

How now Rodorigo? Rod. I do not finde That thou deal'st iustly with me

Iago. What in the contrarie? Rodori. Euery day thou dafts me with some deuise Iago, and rather, as it seemes to me now, keep'st from me all conueniencie, then suppliest me with the least aduantage of hope: I will indeed no longer endure it. Nor am I yet perswaded to put vp in peace, what already I haue foolishly suffred

Iago. Will you heare me Rodorigo? Rodori. I haue heard too much: and your words and Performances are no kin together

Iago. You charge me most vniustly

Rodo. With naught but truth: I haue wasted my selfe out of my meanes. The Iewels you haue had from me to deliuer Desdemona, would halfe haue corrupted a Votarist. You haue told me she hath receiu'd them, and return'd me expectations and comforts of sodaine respect, and acquaintance, but I finde none

Iago. Well, go too: very well

Rod. Very well, go too: I cannot go too, (man) nor 'tis not very well. Nay I think it is scuruy: and begin to finde my selfe fopt in it

Iago. Very well

Rodor. I tell you, 'tis not very well: I will make my selfe knowne to Desdemona. If she will returne me my Iewels, I will giue ouer my Suit, and repent my vnlawfull solicitation. If not, assure your selfe, I will seeke satisfaction of you

Iago. You haue said now

Rodo. I: and said nothing but what I protest intendment of doing

Iago. Why, now I see there's mettle in thee: and euen from this instant do build on thee a better opinion then euer before: giue me thy hand Rodorigo. Thou hast taken against me a most iust exception: but yet I protest I haue dealt most directly in thy Affaire

Rod. It hath not appeer'd

Iago. I grant indeed it hath not appeer'd: and your suspition is not without wit and iudgement. But Rodorigo, if thou hast that in thee indeed, which I haue greater reason to beleeue now then euer (I meane purpose, Courage, and Valour) this night shew it. If thou the next night following enioy not Desdemona, take me from this world with Treacherie, and deuise Engines for my life

Rod. Well: what is it? Is it within, reason and compasse? Iago. Sir, there is especiall Commission come from Venice to depute Cassio in Othello's place

Rod. Is that true? Why then Othello and Desdemona returne againe to Venice

Iago. Oh no: he goes into Mauritania and taketh away with him the faire Desdemona, vnlesse his abode be lingred heere by some accident. Wherein none can be so determinate, as the remouing of Cassio

Rod. How do you meane remouing him? Iago. Why, by making him vncapable of Othello's place: knocking out his braines

Rod. And that you would haue me to do

Iago. I: if you dare do your selfe a profit, and a right. He sups to night with a Harlotry: and thither will I go to him. He knowes not yet of his Honourable Fortune, if you will watch his going thence (which I will fashion to fall out betweene twelue and one) you may take him at your pleasure. I will be neere to second your Attempt, and he shall fall betweene vs. Come, stand not amaz'd at it, but go along with me: I will shew you such a necessitie in his death, that you shall thinke your selfe bound to put it on him. It is now high supper time: and the night growes to wast. About it

Rod. I will heare further reason for this

Iago. And you shalbe satisfi'd.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Othello, Lodouico, Desdemona, aemilia, and Atendants.

Lod. I do beseech you Sir, trouble your selfe no further

Oth. Oh pardon me: 'twill do me good to walke

Lodoui. Madam, good night: I humbly thanke your Ladyship

Des. Your Honour is most welcome

Oth. Will you walke Sir? Oh Desdemona

Des. My Lord

Othello. Get you to bed on th' instant, I will be return'd forthwith: dismisse your Attendant there: look't be done. Enter.

Des. I will my Lord

Aem. How goes it now? He lookes gentler then he did

Des. He saies he will returne incontinent, And hath commanded me to go to bed, And bid me to dismisse you

Aemi. Dismisse me? Des. It was his bidding: therefore good aemilia, Giue me my nightly wearing, and adieu. We must not now displease him. Aemil. I, would you had neuer seene him

Des. So would not I: my loue doth so approue him, That euen his stubbornesse, his checks, his frownes, (Prythee vn-pin me) haue grace and fauour

Aemi. I haue laid those Sheetes you bad me on the bed

Des. All's one: good Father, how foolish are our minds? If I do die before, prythee shrow'd me In one of these same Sheetes. Aemil. Come, come: you talke

Des. My Mother had a Maid call'd Barbarie, She was in loue: and he she lou'd prou'd mad, And did forsake her. She had a Song of Willough, An old thing 'twas: but it express'd her Fortune, And she dy'd singing it. That Song to night, Will not go from my mind: I haue much to do, But to go hang my head all at one side And sing it like poore Barbarie: prythee dispatch

Aemi. Shall I go fetch your Night-gowne? Des. No, vn-pin me here, This Lodouico is a proper man. Aemil. A very handsome man

Des. He speakes well. Aemil. I know a Lady in Venice would haue walk'd barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip

Des. The poore Soule sat singing, by a Sicamour tree. Sing all a greene Willough: Her hand on her bosome her head on her knee, Sing Willough, Willough, Willough. The fresh Streames ran by her, and murmur'd her moanes Sing Willough, &c. Her salt teares fell from her, and softned the stones, Sing Willough, &c. (Lay by these) Willough, Willough. (Prythee high thee: he'le come anon) Sing all a greene Willough must be my Garland. Let no body blame him, his scorne I approue. (Nay that's not next. Harke, who is't that knocks? Aemil. It's the wind

Des. I call'd my Loue false Loue: but what said he then? Sing Willough, &c. If I court mo women, you'le couch with mo men. So get thee gone, good night: mine eyes do itch: Doth that boade weeping? Aemil. 'Tis neyther heere, nor there

Des. I haue heard it said so. O these Men, these men! Do'st thou in conscience thinke (tell me aemilia) That there be women do abuse their husbands In such grosse kinde? Aemil. There be some such, no question

Des. Would'st thou do such a deed for all the world? Aemil. Why, would not you? Des. No, by this Heauenly light. Aemil. Nor I neither, by this Heauenly light: I might doo't as well i'th' darke

Des. Would'st thou do such a deed for al the world? Aemil. The world's a huge thing: It is a great price, for a small vice

Des. Introth, I thinke thou would'st not. Aemil. Introth I thinke I should, and vndoo't when I had done. Marry, I would not doe such a thing for a ioynt Ring, nor for measures of Lawne, nor for Gownes, Petticoats, nor Caps, nor any petty exhibition. But for all the whole world: why, who would not make her husband a Cuckold, to make him a Monarch? I should venture Purgatory for't

Des. Beshrew me, if I would do such a wrong For the whole world. Aemil. Why, the wrong is but a wrong i'th' world; and hauing the world for your labour, 'tis a wrong in your owne world, and you might quickly make it right

Des. I do not thinke there is any such woman. Aemil. Yes, a dozen: and as many to'th' vantage, as would store the world they plaid for. But I do thinke it is their Husbands faults If Wiues do fall: (Say, that they slacke their duties, And powre our Treasures into forraigne laps; Or else breake out in peeuish Iealousies, Throwing restraint vpon vs: Or say they strike vs, Or scant our former hauing in despight) Why we haue galles: and though we haue some Grace, Yet haue we some Reuenge. Let Husbands know, Their wiues haue sense like them: They see, and smell, And haue their Palats both for sweet, and sowre, As Husbands haue. What is it that they do, When they change vs for others? Is it Sport? I thinke it is: and doth Affection breed it? I thinke it doth. Is't Frailty that thus erres? It is so too. And haue not we Affections? Desires for Sport? and Frailty, as men haue? Then let them vse vs well: else let them know, The illes we do, their illes instruct vs so

Des. Good night, good night: Heauen me such vses send, Not to picke bad, from bad; but by bad, mend.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Iago, and Rodorigo.

Iago. Heere, stand behinde this Barke, Straight will he come: Weare thy good Rapier bare, and put it home: Quicke, quicke, feare nothing; Ile be at thy Elbow, It makes vs, or it marres vs, thinke on that, And fixe most firme thy Resolution

Rod. Be neere at hand, I may miscarry in't

Iago. Heere, at thy hand: Be bold, & take thy stand

Rod. I haue no great deuotion to the deed, And yet he hath giuen me satisfying Reasons: 'Tis but a man gone. Forth my Sword: he dies

Iago. I haue rub'd this yong Quat almost to the sense, And he growes angry. Now, whether he kill Cassio, Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other, Euery way makes my gaine. Liue Rodorigo, He calles me to a restitution large Of Gold, and Iewels, that I bob'd from him, As Guifts to Desdemona. It must not be: If Cassio do remaine, He hath a dayly beauty in his life, That makes me vgly: and besides, the Moore May vnfold me to him: there stand I in much perill: No, he must dye. But so, I heard him comming. Enter Cassio.

Rod. I know his gate, 'tis he: Villaine thou dyest

Cas. That thrust had beene mine enemy indeed, But that my Coate is better then thou know'st: I will make proofe of thine

Rod. Oh, I am slaine

Cassio. I am maym'd for euer: Helpe hoa: Murther, murther. Enter Othello.

Oth. The voyce of Cassio. Iago keepes his word

Rod. O Villaine that I am

Oth. It is euen so

Cas. Oh helpe hoa: Light, a Surgeon

Oth. 'Tis he: O braue Iago, honest, and iust, That hast such Noble sense of thy Friends wrong, Thou teachest me. Minion, your deere lyes dead, And your vnblest Fate highes: Strumpet I come: For of my heart, those Charmes thine Eyes, are blotted. Thy Bed lust-stain'd, shall with Lusts blood bee spotted.

Exit Othello.

Enter Lodouico and Gratiano.

Cas. What hoa? no Watch? No passage? Murther, Murther

Gra. 'Tis some mischance, the voyce is very direfull

Cas. Oh helpe

Lodo. Hearke

Rod. Oh wretched Villaine

Lod. Two or three groane. 'Tis heauy night; These may be counterfeits: Let's think't vnsafe To come into the cry, without more helpe

Rod. Nobody come: then shall I bleed to death. Enter Iago.

Lod. Hearke

Gra. Here's one comes in his shirt, with Light, and Weapons

Iago. Who's there? Who's noyse is this that cries on murther? Lodo. We do not know

Iago. Do not you heare a cry? Cas. Heere, heere: for heauen sake helpe me

Iago. What's the matter? Gra. This is Othello's Ancient, as I take it

Lodo. The same indeede, a very valiant Fellow

Iago. What are you heere, that cry so greeuously? Cas. Iago? Oh I am spoyl'd, vndone by Villaines: Giue me some helpe

Iago. O mee, Lieutenant! What Villaines haue done this? Cas. I thinke that one of them is heereabout. And cannot make away

Iago. Oh treacherous Villaines: What are you there? Come in, and giue some helpe

Rod. O helpe me there

Cassio. That's one of them

Iago. Oh murd'rous Slaue! O Villaine! Rod. O damn'd Iago! O inhumane Dogge! Iago. Kill men i'th' darke? Where be these bloody Theeues? How silent is this Towne? Hoa, murther, murther. What may you be? Are you of good, or euill? Lod. As you shall proue vs, praise vs

Iago. Signior Lodouico? Lod. He Sir

Iago. I cry you mercy: here's Cassio hurt by Villaines

Gra. Cassio? Iago. How is't Brother? Cas. My Legge is cut in two

Iago. Marry heauen forbid: Light Gentlemen, Ile binde it with my shirt. Enter Bianca.

Bian. What is the matter hoa? Who is't that cry'd? Iago. Who is't that cry'd? Bian. Oh my deere Cassio, My sweet Cassio: Oh Cassio, Cassio, Cassio

Iago. O notable Strumpet. Cassio, may you suspect Who they should be, that haue thus mangled you? Cas. No

Gra. I am sorry to finde you thus; I haue beene to seeke you

Iago. Lend me a Garter. So: - Oh for a Chaire To beare him easily hence

Bian. Alas he faints. Oh Cassio, Cassio, Cassio

Iago. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this Trash To be a party in this Iniurie. Patience awhile, good Cassio. Come, come; Lend me a Light: know we this face, or no? Alas my Friend, and my deere Countryman Rodorigo? No: Yes sure: Yes, 'tis Rodorigo

Gra. What, of Venice? Iago. Euen he Sir: Did you know him? Gra. Know him? I

Iago. Signior Gratiano? I cry your gentle pardon: These bloody accidents must excuse my Manners, That so neglected you

Gra. I am glad to see you

Iago. How do you Cassio? Oh, a Chaire, a Chaire

Gra. Rodorigo? Iago. He, he, 'tis he: Oh that's well said, the Chaire. Some good man beare him carefully from hence, Ile fetch the Generall's Surgeon. For you Mistris, Saue you your labour. He that lies slaine heere (Cassio) Was my deere friend. What malice was between you

Cas. None in the world: nor do I know the man? Iago. What? looke you pale? Oh beare him o'th' Ayre. Stay you good Gentlemen. Looke you pale, Mistris? Do you perceiue the gastnesse of her eye? Nay, if you stare, we shall heare more anon. Behold her well: I pray you looke vpon her: Do you see Gentlemen? Nay, guiltinesse will speake Though tongues were out of vse. Aemil. Alas, what is the matter? What is the matter, Husband? Iago. Cassio hath heere bin set on in the darke By Rodorigo, and Fellowes that are scap'd: He's almost slaine, and Rodorigo quite dead. Aemil. Alas good Gentleman: alas good Cassio

Iago. This is the fruits of whoring. Prythe aemilia, Go know of Cassio where he supt to night. What, do you shake at that? Bian. He supt at my house, but I therefore shake not

Iago. O did he so? I charge you go with me. Aemil. Oh fie vpon thee Strumpet

Bian. I am no Strumpet, but of life as honest, As you that thus abuse me. Aemil. As I? Fie vpon thee

Iago. Kinde Gentlemen: Let's go see poore Cassio drest. Come Mistris, you must tel's another Tale. aemilia, run you to the Cittadell, And tell my Lord and Lady, what hath happ'd: Will you go on afore? This is the night That either makes me, or foredoes me quight.

Exeunt.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter Othello, and Desdemona in her bed.

Oth. It is the Cause, it is the Cause (my Soule) Let me not name it to you, you chaste Starres, It is the Cause. Yet Ile not shed her blood, Nor scarre that whiter skin of hers, then Snow, And smooth as Monumentall Alablaster: Yet she must dye, else shee'l betray more men: Put out the Light, and then put out the Light: If I quench thee, thou flaming Minister, I can againe thy former light restore, Should I repent me. But once put out thy Light, Thou cunning'st Patterne of excelling Nature, I know not where is that Promethaean heate That can thy Light re-Lume. When I haue pluck'd thy Rose, I cannot giue it vitall growth againe, It needs must wither. Ile smell thee on the Tree. Oh Balmy breath, that dost almost perswade Iustice to breake her Sword. One more, one more: Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee, And loue thee after. One more, and that's the last. So sweet, was ne're so fatall. I must weepe, But they are cruell Teares: This sorrow's heauenly, It strikes, where it doth loue. She wakes

Des. Who's there? Othello? Othel. I Desdemona

Des. Will you come to bed, my Lord? Oth. Haue you pray'd to night, Desdemon? Des. I my Lord

Oth. If you bethinke your selfe of any Crime Vnreconcil'd as yet to Heauen, and Grace, Solicite for it straight

Des. Alacke, my Lord, What may you meane by that? Oth. Well, do it, and be breefe, I will walke by: I would not kill thy vnprepared Spirit, No, Heauens fore-fend) I would not kill thy Soule

Des. Talke you of killing? Oth. I, I do

Des. Then Heauen haue mercy on mee

Oth. Amen, with all my heart

Des. If you say, I hope you will not kill me

Oth. Humh

Des. And yet I feare you: for you're fatall then When your eyes rowle so. Why I should feare, I know not, Since guiltinesse I know not: But yet I feele I feare

Oth. Thinke on thy sinnes

Des. They are Loues I beare to you

Oth. I, and for that thou dy'st

Des. That death's vnnaturall, that kils for louing. Alas, why gnaw you so your nether-lip? Some bloody passion shakes your very Frame: These are portents: but yet I hope, I hope, They do not point on me

Oth. Peace, and be still

Des. I will so: What's the matter? Oth. That Handkerchiefe Which I so lou'd, and gaue thee, thou gau'st to Cassio

Des. No by my Life, and Soule: send for the man, And aske him

Oth. Sweet Soule, take heed, take heed of Periury, Thou art on thy death-bed

Des. I, but not yet to dye

Oth. Presently. Therefore confesse thee freely of thy sinne: For to deny each Article with Oath, Cannot remoue, nor choake the strong Conception That I do grone withall. Thou art to dye

Des. O Heauen haue mercy on me

Oth. I say, Amen

Des. And haue you mercy too. I neuer did Offend you in my life: neuer lou'd Cassio, But with such generall warrantie of Heauen, As I might loue. I neuer gaue him Token

Oth. By Heauen I saw my Handkerchiefe in's hand. O periur'd woman, thou do'st stone my heart, And makes me call, what I intend to do, A Murther, which I thought a Sacrifice. I saw the Handkerchiefe

Des. He found it then: I neuer gaue it him: Send, for him hither: Let him confesse a truth

Oth. He hath confest

Des. What, my Lord? Oth. That he hath vs'd thee

Des. How? vnlawfully? Oth. I

Des. He will not say so

Oth. No: his mouth is stopp'd: Honest Iago hath 'tane order for't

Des. Oh, my feare interprets. What is he dead? Oth. Had all his haires bin liues, my great Reuenge Had stomacke for them all

Des. Alas, he is betray'd, and I vndone

Oth. Out Strumpet: weep'st thou for him to my face? Des. O banish me, my Lord, but kill me not

Oth. Downe Strumpet

Des. Kill me to morrow, let me liue to night

Oth. Nay, if you striue

Des. But halfe an houre

Oth. Being done, there is no pawse

Des. But while I say one prayer

Oth. It is too late.

Smothers her.

aemilia at the doore.

Aemil. My Lord, my Lord? What hoa? My Lord, my Lord

Oth. What noise is this? Not dead? not yet quite dead? I that am cruell, am yet mercifull, I would not haue thee linger in thy paine? So, so. Aemil. within. What hoa? my Lord, my Lord? Oth. Who's there? Aemil. Oh good my Lord, I would speake a word with you

Oth. Yes: 'Tis aemilia: by and by. Shee's dead. 'Tis like she comes to speake of Cassio's death: The noise was high. Hah, no more moouing? Still as the Graue. Shall she come in? Wer't good? I thinke she stirres againe. No, what's best to do? If she come in, shee'l sure speake to my wife: My wife, my wife: what wife? I haue no wife. Oh insupportable! Oh heauy houre! Me thinkes, it should be now a huge Eclipse Of Sunne, and Moone; and that th' affrighted Globe Did yawne at Alteration. Aemil. I do beseech you That I may speake with you. Oh good my Lord

Oth. I had forgot thee: oh come in aemilia. Soft, by and by, let me the Curtaines draw. Where art thou? What's the matter with thee now? Enter aemilia.

Aemil. Oh my good Lord, yonders foule Murthers done

Oth. What? now? Aemil. But now, my Lord

Oth. It is the very error of the Moone, She comes more neerer Earth then she was wont, And makes men mad. Aemil. Cassio, my Lord, hath kill'd A young Venetian, call'd Rodorigo

Oth. Rodorigo kill'd? and Cassio kill'd? Aemil. No, Cassio is not kill'd

Oth. Not Cassio kill'd? Then Murther's out of tune, And sweet Reuenge growes harsh

Des. O falsely, falsely murder'd. Aemil. Alas! what cry is that? Oth. That? What? Aemil. Out, and alas, that was my Ladies voice. Helpe, helpe hoa, helpe. Oh Ladie speake againe, Sweet Desdemona, oh sweet Mistris, speake

Des. A guiltlesse death, I dye. Aemil. Oh who hath done this deed? Des. No body: I my selfe, farewell: Commend me to my kinde Lord: oh farewell

Oth. Why, how should she be murdred? Aemil. Alas: who knowes? Oth. You heare her say her selfe, it was not I. Aemil. She said so: I must needs report the truth

Oth. She's like a Liar gone to burning hell, 'Twas I that kill'd her. Aemil. Oh the more Angell she, and you the blacker Diuell

Oth. She turn'd to folly: and she was a whore. Aemil. Thou do'st bely her, and thou art a diuell

Oth. She was false as water. Aemil. Thou art rash as fire, to say That she was false. Oh she was heauenly true

Oth. Cassio did top her: Ask thy husband else. O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell: But that I did proceed vpon iust grounds To this extremity. Thy Husband knew it all. Aemil. My Husband? Oth. Thy Husband. Aemil. That she was false to Wedlocke? Oth. I, with Cassio: had she bin true, If Heauen would make me such another world, Of one entyre and perfect Chrysolite, I'ld not haue sold her for it. Aemil. My Husband? Oth. I, 'twas he that told me on her first, An honest man he is, and hates the slime That stickes on filthy deeds. Aemil. My Husband? Oth. What needs this itterance, Woman? I say, thy Husband. Aemil. Oh Mistris, Villany hath made mockes with loue: My Husband say she was false? Oth. He, Woman; I say thy Husband: Do'st vnderstand the word? My Friend, thy Husband; honest, honest Iago. Aemil. If he say so, may his pernicious Soule Rot halfe a graine a day: he lyes to'th' heart, She was too fond of her most filthy Bargaine

Oth. Hah? Aemil. Do thy worst: This deede of thine is no more worthy Heauen, Then thou was't worthy her

Oth. Peace, you were best. Aemil. Thou hast not halfe that powre to do me harm, As I haue to be hurt. Oh Gull, oh dolt, As ignorant as durt: thou hast done a deed (I care not for thy Sword) Ile make thee known, Though I lost twenty liues. Helpe, helpe, hoa, helpe: The Moore hath kill'd my Mistris. Murther, murther. Enter Montano, Gratiano, and Iago.

Mon. What is the matter? How now Generall? Aemil. Oh, are you come, Iago: you haue done well, That men must lay their Murthers on your necke

Gra. What is the matter? Aemil. Disproue this Villaine, if thou bee'st a man: He sayes, thou told'st him that his wife was false: I know thou did'st not: thou'rt not such a Villain. Speake, for my heart is full

Iago. I told him what I thought, And told no more Then what he found himselfe was apt, and true. Aemil. But did you euer tell him, She was false? Iago. I did. Aemil. You told a Lye an odious damned Lye: Vpon my Soule, a Lye; a wicked Lye. Shee false with Cassio? Did you say with Cassio? Iago. With Cassio, Mistris? Go too, charme your tongue

Emil. I will not charme my Tongue; I am bound to speake, My Mistris heere lyes murthered in her bed

All. Oh Heauens, forefend

Emil. And your reports haue set the Murder on

Othello. Nay stare not Masters, It is true indeede

Gra. 'Tis a strange Truth

Mont. O monstrous Acte

Emil. Villany, villany, villany: I thinke vpon't, I thinke: I smel't: O Villany: I thought so then: Ile kill my selfe for greefe. O villany! villany! Iago. What, are you mad? I charge you get you home

Emil. Good Gentlemen, let me haue leaue to speake: 'Tis proper I obey him; but not now: Perchance Iago, I will ne're go home

Oth. Oh, oh, oh

Emil. Nay, lay thee downe, and roare: For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent, That ere did lift vp eye

Oth. Oh she was fowle! I scarse did know you Vnkle, there lies your Neece, Whose breath (indeed) these hands haue newly stopp'd: I know this acte shewes horrible and grim

Gra. Poore Desdemon: I am glad thy Father's dead, Thy Match was mortall to him: and pure greefe Shore his old thred in twaine. Did he liue now, This sight would make him do a desperate turne: Yea, curse his better Angell from his side, And fall to Reprobance

Oth. 'Tis pittifull: but yet Iago knowes That she with Cassio, hath the Act of shame A thousand times committed. Cassio confest it, And she did gratifie his amorous workes With that Recognizance and pledge of Loue Which I first gaue her: I saw it in his hand: It was a Handkerchiefe, an Antique Token My Father gaue my Mother

Emil. Oh Heauen! oh heauenly Powres! Iago. Come, hold your peace

Emil. 'Twill out, 'twill out. I peace? No, I will speake as liberall as the North; Let Heauen, and Men, and Diuels, let them all, All, all, crie shame against me, yet Ile speake

Iago. Be wise, and get you home

Emil. I will not

Gra. Fye, your Sword vpon a Woman

Emil. Oh thou dull Moore, That Handkerchiefe thou speak'st of I found by Fortune, and did giue my Husband: For often, with a solemne earnestnesse, (More then indeed belong'd to such a Trifle) He begg'd of me, to steale't

Iago. Villanous Whore

Emil. She giue it Cassio? No, alas I found it, And I did giu't my Husband

Iago. Filth, thou lyest

Emil. By Heauen I do not, I do not Gentlemen: Oh murd'rous Coxcombe, what should such a Foole Do with so good a wife? Oth. Are there no stones in Heauen, But what serues for the Thunder? Precious Villaine

Gra. The woman falles: Sure he hath kill'd his Wife

Emil. I, I: oh lay me by my Mistris side

Gra. Hee's gone, but his wife's kill'd

Mon. 'Tis a notorious Villain: take you this weapon Which I haue recouer'd from the Moore: Come guard the doore without, let him not passe, But kill him rather. Ile after that same villaine, For 'tis a damned Slaue. Enter.

Oth. I am not valiant neither: But euery Punie whipster gets my Sword. But why should Honor out-liue Honesty? Let it go all. Aemil. What did thy Song boad Lady? Hearke, canst thou heare me? I will play the Swan, And dye in Musicke: Willough, Willough, Willough. Moore, she was chaste: She lou'd thee, cruell Moore, So come my Soule to blisse, as I speake true: So speaking as I thinke, alas, I dye

Oth. I haue another weapon in this Chamber, It was a Sword of Spaine, the Ice brookes temper: Oh heere it is: Vnkle I must come forth

Gra. If thou attempt it, it will cost thee deere; Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer

Oth. Looke in vpon me then, and speake with me, Or naked as I am I will assault thee

Gra. What is the matter? Othel. Behold, I haue a weapon: A better neuer did it selfe sustaine Vpon a Soldiers Thigh. I haue seene the day, That with this little Arme, and this good Sword, I haue made my way through more impediments Then twenty times your stop. But (oh vaine boast) Who can controll his Fate? 'Tis not so now. Be not affraid, though you do see me weapon'd: Heere is my iournies end, heere is my butt And verie Sea-marke of my vtmost Saile. Do you go backe dismaid? 'Tis a lost feare: Man but a Rush against Othello's brest, And he retires. Where should Othello go? Now: how dost thou looke now? Oh ill-Starr'd wench, Pale as thy Smocke: when we shall meete at compt, This looke of thine will hurle my Soule from Heauen, And Fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my Girle? Euen like thy Chastity. O cursed, cursed Slaue! Whip me ye Diuels, From the possession of this Heauenly sight: Blow me about in windes, roast me in Sulphure, Wash me in steepe-downe gulfes of Liquid fire. Oh Desdemon! dead Desdemon: dead. Oh, oh! Enter Lodouico, Cassio, Montano, and Iago, with Officers.

Lod. Where is this rash, and most vnfortunate man? Oth. That's he that was Othello: heere I am

Lod. Where is that Viper? Bring the Villaine forth

Oth. I look down towards his feet; but that's a Fable, If that thou bee'st a Diuell, I cannot kill thee

Lod. Wrench his Sword from him

Iago. I bleed Sir, but not kill'd

Othel. I am not sorry neither, Il'd haue thee liue: For in my sense, 'tis happinesse to die

Lod. Oh thou Othello, that was once so good, Falne in the practise of a cursed Slaue, What shall be saide to thee

Oth. Why any thing: An honourable Murderer, if you will: For nought I did in hate, but all in Honour

Lod. This wretch hath part confest his Villany: Did you and he consent in Cassio's death

Oth. I

Cas. Deere Generall, I neuer gaue you cause

Oth. I do beleeue it, and I aske your pardon: Will you, I pray, demand that demy-Diuell, Why he hath thus ensnar'd my Soule and Body

Iag. Demand me nothing: what you know, you know: From this time forth, I neuer will speake word

Lod. What? not to pray? Gra. Torments will ope your lips

Oth. Well, thou dost best

Lod. Sir, You shall vnderstand what hath befalne, (Which, as I thinke, you know not) heere is a Letter Found in the pocket of the slaine Rodorigo, And heere another, the one of them imports The death of Cassio, to be vndertooke By Rodorigo

Oth. O Villaine! Cassio. Most Heathenish, and most grosse

Lod. Now, heere's another discontented paper Found in his pocket too: and this it seemes Rodorigo meant t'haue sent this damned villaine: But that (belike) Iago in the interim Came in, and satisfi'd him

Oth. Oh thou pernitious Caitiffe; How came you (Cassio) by that Handkerchiefe That was my wiues? Cassio. I found it in my Chamber: And he himselfe confest it but euen now, That there he dropt it for a speciall purpose, Which wrought to his desire

Othel. O Foole, foole, foole! Cassio. There is besides, in Rodorigo's Letter, How he vpbraides Iago, that he made him Braue me vpon the Watch: whereon it came That I was cast: and euen but now he spake (After long seeming dead) Iago hurt him, Iago set him on

Lod. You must forsake this roome, and go with vs: Your Power, and your Command is taken off, And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this Slaue, If there be any cunning Crueltie, That can torment him much, and hold him long, It shall be his. You shall close Prisoner rest, Till that the Nature of your fault be knowne To the Venetian State. Come, bring away

Oth. Soft you; a word or two before you goe: I haue done the State some seruice, and they know't: No more of that. I pray you in your Letters, When you shall these vnluckie deeds relate, Speake of me, as I am. Nothing extenuate, Nor set downe ought in malice. Then must you speake, Of one that lou'd not wisely, but too well: Of one, not easily Iealious, but being wrought, Perplexed in the extreame: Of one, whose hand (Like the base Iudean) threw a Pearle away Richer then all his Tribe: Of one, whose subdu'd Eyes, Albeit vn-vsed to the melting moode, Drops teares as fast as the Arabian Trees Their Medicinable gumme. Set you downe this: And say besides, that in Aleppo once, Where a malignant, and a Turbond-Turke Beate a Venetian, and traduc'd the State, I tooke by th' throat the circumcised Dogge, And smoate him, thus

Lod. Oh bloody period

Gra. All that is spoke, is marr'd

Oth. I kist thee, ere I kill'd thee: No way but this, Killing my selfe, to dye vpon a kisse.

Dyes

Cas. This did I feare, but thought he had no weapon: For he was great of heart

Lod. Oh Sparton Dogge: More fell then Anguish, Hunger, or the Sea: Looke on the Tragicke Loading of this bed: This is thy worke: The Obiect poysons Sight, Let it be hid. Gratiano, keepe the house, And seize vpon the Fortunes of the Moore, For they succeede on you. To you, Lord Gouernor, Remaines the Censure of this hellish villaine: The Time, the Place, the Torture, oh inforce it: My selfe will straight aboord, and to the State, This heauie Act, with heauie heart relate.

Exeunt.

FINIS.

The Names of the Actors.

Othello, the Moore. Brabantio, Father to Desdemona. Cassio, an Honourable Lieutenant. Iago, a Villaine. Rodorigo, a gull'd Gentleman. Duke of Venice. Senators. Montano, Gouernour of Cyprus. Gentlemen of Cyprus. Lodouico, and Gratiano, two Noble Venetians. Saylors. Clowne. Desdemona, Wife to Othello. Aemilia, Wife to Iago. Bianca, a Curtezan.

THE TRAGEDIE OF Othello, the Moore of Venice.

The Tragedie of Anthonie, and Cleopatra

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Demetrius and Philo.

Philo. Nay, but this dotage of our Generals Ore-flowes the measure: those his goodly eyes That o're the Files and Musters of the Warre, Haue glow'd like plated Mars: Now bend, now turne The Office and Deuotion of their view Vpon a Tawny Front. His Captaines heart, Which in the scuffles of great Fights hath burst The Buckles on his brest, reneages all temper, And is become the Bellowes and the Fan To coole a Gypsies Lust.

Flourish. Enter Anthony, Cleopatra, her Ladies, the Traine, with Eunuchs fanning her.

Looke where they come: Take but good note, and you shall see in him (The triple Pillar of the world) transform'd Into a Strumpets Foole. Behold and see

Cleo. If it be Loue indeed, tell me how much

Ant. There's beggery in the loue that can be reckon'd Cleo. Ile set a bourne how farre to be belou'd

Ant. Then must thou needes finde out new Heauen, new Earth. Enter a Messenger.

Mes. Newes (my good Lord) from Rome

Ant. Grates me, the summe

Cleo. Nay heare them Anthony. Fuluia perchance is angry: Or who knowes, If the scarse-bearded Caesar haue not sent His powrefull Mandate to you. Do this, or this; Take in that Kingdome, and Infranchise that: Perform't, or else we damne thee

Ant. How, my Loue? Cleo. Perchance? Nay, and most like: You must not stay heere longer, your dismission Is come from Caesar, therefore heare it Anthony, Where's Fuluias Processe? (Caesars I would say) both? Call in the Messengers: As I am Egypts Queene, Thou blushest Anthony, and that blood of thine Is Caesars homager: else so thy cheeke payes shame, When shrill-tongu'd Fuluia scolds. The Messengers

Ant. Let Rome in Tyber melt, and the wide Arch Of the raing'd Empire fall: Heere is my space, Kingdomes are clay: Our dungie earth alike Feeds Beast as Man; the Noblenesse of life Is to do thus: when such a mutuall paire, And such a twaine can doo't, in which I binde One paine of punishment, the world to weete We stand vp Peerelesse

Cleo. Excellent falshood: Why did he marry Fuluia, and not loue her? Ile seeme the Foole I am not. Anthony will be himselfe

Ant. But stirr'd by Cleopatra. Now for the loue of Loue, and her soft houres, Let's not confound the time with Conference harsh; There's not a minute of our liues should stretch Without some pleasure now. What sport to night? Cleo. Heare the Ambassadors

Ant. Fye wrangling Queene: Whom euery thing becomes, to chide, to laugh, To weepe: who euery passion fully striues To make it selfe (in Thee) faire, and admir'd. No Messenger but thine, and all alone, to night Wee'l wander through the streets, and note The qualities of people. Come my Queene, Last night you did desire it. Speake not to vs.

Exeunt. with the Traine.

Dem. Is Caesar with Anthonius priz'd so slight? Philo. Sir, sometimes when he is not Anthony, He comes too short of that great Property Which still should go with Anthony

Dem. I am full sorry, that hee approues the common Lyar, who thus speakes of him at Rome; but I will hope of better deeds to morrow. Rest you happy.

Exeunt.

Enter Enobarbus, Lamprius, a Southsayer, Rannius, Lucillius, Charmian, Iras, Mardian the Eunuch, and Alexas.

Char. L[ord]. Alexas, sweet Alexas, most any thing Alexas, almost most absolute Alexas, where's the Soothsayer that you prais'd so to'th' Queene? Oh that I knewe this Husband, which you say, must change his Hornes with Garlands

Alex. Soothsayer

Sooth. Your will? Char. Is this the Man? Is't you sir that know things? Sooth. In Natures infinite booke of Secrecie, a little I can read

Alex. Shew him your hand

Enob. Bring in the Banket quickly: Wine enough, Cleopatra's health to drinke

Char. Good sir, giue me good Fortune

Sooth. I make not, but foresee

Char. Pray then, foresee me one

Sooth. You shall be yet farre fairer then you are

Char. He meanes in flesh

Iras. No, you shall paint when you are old

Char. Wrinkles forbid

Alex. Vex not his prescience, be attentiue

Char. Hush

Sooth. You shall be more belouing, then beloued

Char. I had rather heate my Liuer with drinking

Alex. Nay, heare him

Char. Good now some excellent Fortune: Let mee be married to three Kings in a forenoone, and Widdow them all: Let me haue a Childe at fifty, to whom Herode of Iewry may do Homage. Finde me to marrie me with Octauius Caesar, and companion me with my Mistris

Sooth. You shall out-liue the Lady whom you serue

Char. Oh excellent, I loue long life better then Figs

Sooth. You haue seene and proued a fairer former fortune, then that which is to approach

Char. Then belike my Children shall haue no names: Prythee how many Boyes and Wenches must I haue

Sooth. If euery of your wishes had a wombe, & foretell euery wish, a Million

Char. Out Foole, I forgiue thee for a Witch

Alex. You thinke none but your sheets are priuie to your wishes

Char. Nay come, tell Iras hers

Alex. Wee'l know all our Fortunes

Enob. Mine, and most of our Fortunes to night, shall be drunke to bed

Iras. There's a Palme presages Chastity, if nothing els

Char. E'ne as the o're-flowing Nylus presageth Famine

Iras. Go you wilde Bedfellow, you cannot Soothsay

Char. Nay, if an oyly Palme bee not a fruitfull Prognostication, I cannot scratch mine eare. Prythee tel her but a worky day Fortune

Sooth. Your Fortunes are alike

Iras. But how, but how, giue me particulars

Sooth. I haue said

Iras. Am I not an inch of Fortune better then she? Char. Well, if you were but an inch of fortune better then I: where would you choose it

Iras. Not in my Husbands nose

Char. Our worser thoughts Heauens mend

Alexas. Come, his Fortune, his Fortune. Oh let him mary a woman that cannot go, sweet Isis, I beseech thee, and let her dye too, and giue him a worse, and let worse follow worse, till the worst of all follow him laughing to his graue, fifty-fold a Cuckold. Good Isis heare me this Prayer, though thou denie me a matter of more waight: good Isis I beseech thee

Iras. Amen, deere Goddesse, heare that prayer of the people. For, as it is a heart-breaking to see a handsome man loose-Wiu'd, so it is a deadly sorrow, to beholde a foule Knaue vncuckolded: Therefore deere Isis keep decorum, and Fortune him accordingly

Char. Amen

Alex. Lo now, if it lay in their hands to make mee a Cuckold, they would make themselues Whores, but they'ld doo't. Enter Cleopatra.

Enob. Hush, heere comes Anthony

Char. Not he, the Queene

Cleo. Saue you, my Lord

Enob. No Lady

Cleo. Was he not heere? Char. No Madam

Cleo. He was dispos'd to mirth, but on the sodaine A Romane thought hath strooke him. Enobarbus? Enob. Madam

Cleo. Seeke him, and bring him hither: wher's Alexias? Alex. Heere at your seruice. My Lord approaches. Enter Anthony, with a Messenger.

Cleo. We will not looke vpon him: Go with vs.

Exeunt.

Messen. Fuluia thy Wife, First came into the Field

Ant. Against my Brother Lucius? Messen. I: but soone that Warre had end, And the times state Made friends of them, ioynting their force 'gainst Caesar, Whose better issue in the warre from Italy, Vpon the first encounter draue them

Ant. Well, what worst

Mess. The Nature of bad newes infects the Teller

Ant. When it concernes the Foole or Coward: On. Things that are past, are done, with me. 'Tis thus, Who tels me true, though in his Tale lye death, I heare him as he flatter'd

Mes. Labienus (this is stiffe-newes) Hath with his Parthian Force Extended Asia: from Euphrates his conquering Banner shooke, from Syria to Lydia, And to Ionia, whil'st- Ant. Anthony thou would'st say

Mes. Oh my Lord

Ant. Speake to me home, Mince not the generall tongue, name Cleopatra as she is call'd in Rome: Raile thou in Fuluia's phrase, and taunt my faults With such full License, as both Truth and Malice Haue power to vtter. Oh then we bring forth weeds, When our quicke windes lye still, and our illes told vs Is as our earing: fare thee well awhile

Mes. At your Noble pleasure.

Exit Messenger

Enter another Messenger.

Ant. From Scicion how the newes? Speake there

1.Mes. The man from Scicion, Is there such an one? 2.Mes. He stayes vpon your will

Ant. Let him appeare: These strong Egyptian Fetters I must breake, Or loose my selfe in dotage. Enter another Messenger with a Letter.

What are you? 3.Mes. Fuluia thy wife is dead

Ant. Where dyed she

Mes. In Scicion, her length of sicknesse, With what else more serious, Importeth thee to know, this beares

Antho. Forbeare me There's a great Spirit gone, thus did I desire it: What our contempts doth often hurle from vs, We wish it ours againe. The present pleasure, By reuolution lowring, does become The opposite of it selfe: she's good being gon, The hand could plucke her backe, that shou'd her on. I must from this enchanting Queene breake off, Ten thousand harmes, more then the illes I know My idlenesse doth hatch. Enter Enobarbus.

How now Enobarbus

Eno. What's your pleasure, Sir? Anth. I must with haste from hence

Eno. Why then we kill all our Women. We see how mortall an vnkindnesse is to them, if they suffer our departure death's the word

Ant. I must be gone

Eno. Vnder a compelling an occasion, let women die. It were pitty to cast them away for nothing, though betweene them and a great cause, they should be esteemed nothing. Cleopatra catching but the least noyse of this, dies instantly: I haue seene her dye twenty times vppon farre poorer moment: I do think there is mettle in death, which commits some louing acte vpon her, she hath such a celerity in dying

Ant. She is cunning past mans thought

Eno. Alacke Sir no, her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure Loue. We cannot cal her winds and waters, sighes and teares: They are greater stormes and Tempests then Almanackes can report. This cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a showre of Raine as well as Ioue

Ant. Would I had neuer seene her

Eno. Oh sir, you had then left vnseene a wonderfull peece of worke, which not to haue beene blest withall, would haue discredited your Trauaile

Ant. Fuluia is dead

Eno. Sir

Ant. Fuluia is dead

Eno. Fuluia? Ant. Dead

Eno. Why sir, giue the Gods a thankefull Sacrifice: when it pleaseth their Deities to take the wife of a man from him, it shewes to man the Tailors of the earth: comforting therein, that when olde Robes are worne out, there are members to make new. If there were no more Women but Fuluia, then had you indeede a cut, and the case to be lamented: This greefe is crown'd with Consolation, your old Smocke brings foorth a new Petticoate, and indeed the teares liue in an Onion, that should water this sorrow

Ant. The businesse she hath broached in the State, Cannot endure my absence

Eno. And the businesse you haue broach'd heere cannot be without you, especially that of Cleopatra's, which wholly depends on your abode

Ant. No more light Answeres: Let our Officers Haue notice what we purpose. I shall breake The cause of our Expedience to the Queene, And get her loue to part. For not alone The death of Fuluia, with more vrgent touches Do strongly speake to vs: but the Letters too Of many our contriuing Friends in Rome, Petition vs at home. Sextus Pompeius Haue giuen the dare to Caesar, and commands The Empire of the Sea. Our slippery people, Whose Loue is neuer link'd to the deseruer, Till his deserts are past, begin to throw Pompey the great, and all his Dignities Vpon his Sonne, who high in Name and Power, Higher then both in Blood and Life, stands vp For the maine Souldier. Whose quality going on, The sides o'th' world may danger. Much is breeding, Which like the Coursers heire, hath yet but life, And not a Serpents poyson. Say our pleasure, To such whose places vnder vs, require Our quicke remoue from hence

Enob. I shall doo't. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Alexas, and Iras.

Cleo. Where is he? Char. I did not see him since

Cleo. See where he is, Whose with him, what he does: I did not send you. If you finde him sad, Say I am dauncing: if in Myrth, report That I am sodaine sicke. Quicke, and returne

Char. Madam, me thinkes if you did loue him deerly, You do not hold the method, to enforce The like from him

Cleo. What should I do, I do not? Ch. In each thing giue him way, crosse him in nothing

Cleo. Thou teachest like a foole: the way to lose him

Char. Tempt him not so too farre. I wish forbeare, In time we hate that which we often feare. Enter Anthony.

But heere comes Anthony

Cleo. I am sicke, and sullen

An. I am sorry to giue breathing to my purpose

Cleo. Helpe me away deere Charmian, I shall fall, It cannot be thus long, the sides of Nature Will not sustaine it

Ant. Now my deerest Queene

Cleo. Pray you stand farther from mee

Ant. What's the matter? Cleo. I know by that same eye ther's some good news. What sayes the married woman you may goe? Would she had neuer giuen you leaue to come. Let her not say 'tis I that keepe you heere, I haue no power vpon you: Hers you are

Ant. The Gods best know

Cleo. Oh neuer was there Queene So mightily betrayed: yet at the first I saw the Treasons planted

Ant. Cleopatra

Cleo. Why should I thinke you can be mine, & true, (Though you in swearing shake the Throaned Gods) Who haue beene false to Fuluia? Riotous madnesse, To be entangled with those mouth-made vowes, Which breake themselues in swearing

Ant. Most sweet Queene

Cleo. Nay pray you seeke no colour for your going, But bid farewell, and goe: When you sued staying, Then was the time for words: No going then, Eternity was in our Lippes, and Eyes, Blisse in our browes bent: none our parts so poore, But was a race of Heauen. They are so still, Or thou the greatest Souldier of the world, Art turn'd the greatest Lyar

Ant. How now Lady? Cleo. I would I had thy inches, thou should'st know There were a heart in Egypt

Ant. Heare me Queene: The strong necessity of Time, commands Our Seruices a-while: but my full heart Remaines in vse with you. Our Italy, Shines o're with ciuill Swords; Sextus Pompeius Makes his approaches to the Port of Rome, Equality of two Domesticke powers, Breed scrupulous faction: The hated growne to strength Are newly growne to Loue: The condemn'd Pompey, Rich in his Fathers Honor, creepes apace Into the hearts of such, as haue not thriued Vpon the present state, whose Numbers threaten, And quietnesse growne sicke of rest, would purge By any desperate change: My more particular, And that which most with you should safe my going, Is Fuluias death

Cleo. Though age from folly could not giue me freedom It does from childishnesse. Can Fuluia dye? Ant. She's dead my Queene. Looke heere, and at thy Soueraigne leysure read The Garboyles she awak'd: at the last, best, See when, and where shee died

Cleo. O most false Loue! Where be the Sacred Violles thou should'st fill With sorrowfull water? Now I see, I see, In Fuluias death, how mine receiu'd shall be

Ant. Quarrell no more, but bee prepar'd to know The purposes I beare: which are, or cease, As you shall giue th' aduice. By the fire That quickens Nylus slime, I go from hence Thy Souldier, Seruant, making Peace or Warre, As thou affects

Cleo. Cut my Lace, Charmian come, But let it be, I am quickly ill, and well, So Anthony loues

Ant. My precious Queene forbeare, And giue true euidence to his Loue, which stands An honourable Triall

Cleo. So Fuluia told me. I prythee turne aside, and weepe for her, Then bid adiew to me, and say the teares Belong to Egypt. Good now, play one Scene Of excellent dissembling, and let it looke Like perfect Honor

Ant. You'l heat my blood no more? Cleo. You can do better yet: but this is meetly

Ant. Now by Sword

Cleo. And Target. Still he mends. But this is not the best. Looke prythee Charmian, How this Herculean Roman do's become The carriage of his chafe

Ant. Ile leaue you Lady

Cleo. Courteous Lord, one word: Sir, you and I must part, but that's not it: Sir, you and I haue lou'd, but there's not it: That you know well, something it is I would: Oh, my Obliuion is a very Anthony, And I am all forgotten

Ant. But that your Royalty Holds Idlenesse your subiect, I should take you For Idlenesse it selfe

Cleo. 'Tis sweating Labour, To beare such Idlenesse so neere the heart As Cleopatra this. But Sir, forgiue me, Since my becommings kill me, when they do not Eye well to you. Your Honor calles you hence, Therefore be deafe to my vnpittied Folly, And all the Gods go with you. Vpon your Sword Sit Lawrell victory, and smooth successe Be strew'd before your feete

Ant. Let vs go. Come: Our separation so abides and flies, That thou reciding heere, goes yet with mee; And I hence fleeting, heere remaine with thee. Away.

Exeunt.

Enter Octauius reading a Letter, Lepidus, and their Traine.

Caes You may see Lepidus, and henceforth know, It is not Caesars Naturall vice, to hate One great Competitor. From Alexandria This is the newes: He fishes, drinkes, and wastes The Lampes of night in reuell: Is not more manlike Then Cleopatra: nor the Queene of Ptolomy More Womanly then he. Hardly gaue audience Or vouchsafe to thinke he had Partners. You Shall finde there a man, who is th' abstracts of all faults, That all men follow

Lep. I must not thinke There are, euils enow to darken all his goodnesse: His faults in him, seeme as the Spots of Heauen, More fierie by nights Blacknesse; Hereditarie, Rather then purchaste: what he cannot change, Then what he chooses

Caes You are too indulgent. Let's graunt it is not Amisse to tumble on the bed of Ptolomy, To giue a Kingdome for a Mirth, to sit And keepe the turne of Tipling with a Slaue, To reele the streets at noone, and stand the Buffet With knaues that smels of sweate: Say this becoms him (As his composure must be rare indeed, Whom these things cannot blemish) yet must Anthony No way excuse his foyles, when we do beare So great waight in his lightnesse. If he fill'd His vacancie with his Voluptuousnesse, Full surfets, and the drinesse of his bones, Call on him for't. But to confound such time, That drummes him from his sport, and speakes as lowd As his owne State, and ours, 'tis to be chid: As we rate Boyes, who being mature in knowledge, Pawne their experience to their present pleasure, And so rebell to iudgement. Enter a Messenger.

Lep. Heere's more newes

Mes. Thy biddings haue beene done, & euerie houre Most Noble Caesar, shalt thou haue report How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at Sea, And it appeares, he is belou'd of those That only haue feard Caesar: to the Ports The discontents repaire, and mens reports Giue him much wrong'd

Caes I should haue knowne no lesse, It hath bin taught vs from the primall state That he which is was wisht, vntill he were: And the ebb'd man, Ne're lou'd, till ne're worth loue, Comes fear'd, by being lack'd. This common bodie, Like to a Vagabond Flagge vpon the Streame, Goes too, and backe, lacking the varrying tyde To rot it selfe with motion

Mes. Caesar I bring thee word, Menacrates and Menas famous Pyrates Makes the Sea serue them, which they eare and wound With keeles of euery kinde. Many hot inrodes They make in Italy, the Borders Maritime Lacke blood to thinke on't, and flush youth reuolt, No Vessell can peepe forth: but 'tis as soone Taken as seene: for Pompeyes name strikes more Then could his Warre resisted Caesar. Anthony, Leaue thy lasciuious Vassailes. When thou once Was beaten from Medena, where thou slew'st Hirsius, and Pansa Consuls, at thy heele Did Famine follow, whom thou fought'st against, (Though daintily brought vp) with patience more Then Sauages could suffer. Thou did'st drinke The stale of Horses, and the gilded Puddle Which Beasts would cough at. Thy pallat the[n] did daine The roughest Berry, on the rudest Hedge. Yea, like the Stagge, when Snow the Pasture sheets, The barkes of Trees thou brows'd. On the Alpes, It is reported thou did'st eate strange flesh, Which some did dye to looke on: And all this (It wounds thine Honor that I speake it now) Was borne so like a Soldiour, that thy cheeke So much as lank'd not

Lep. 'Tis pitty of him

Caes Let his shames quickely Driue him to Rome, 'tis time we twaine Did shew our selues i'th' Field, and to that end Assemble me immediate counsell, Pompey Thriues in our Idlenesse

Lep. To morrow Caesar, I shall be furnisht to informe you rightly Both what by Sea and Land I can be able To front this present time

Caes Til which encounter, it is my busines too. Farwell

Lep. Farwell my Lord, what you shal know mean time Of stirres abroad, I shall beseech you Sir To let me be partaker

Caesar. Doubt not sir, I knew it for my Bond.

Exeunt.

Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, & Mardian.

Cleo. Charmian

Char. Madam

Cleo. Ha, ha, giue me to drinke Mandragora

Char. Why Madam? Cleo. That I might sleepe out this great gap of time: My Anthony is away

Char. You thinke of him too much

Cleo. O 'tis Treason

Char. Madam, I trust not so

Cleo. Thou, Eunuch Mardian? Mar. What's your Highnesse pleasure? Cleo. Not now to heare thee sing. I take no pleasure In ought an Eunuch ha's: Tis well for thee, That being vnseminar'd, thy freer thoughts May not flye forth of Egypt. Hast thou Affections? Mar. Yes gracious Madam

Cleo. Indeed? Mar. Not in deed Madam, for I can do nothing But what in deede is honest to be done: Yet haue I fierce Affections, and thinke What Venus did with Mars

Cleo. Oh Charmion: Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he? Or does he walke? Or is he on his Horse? Oh happy horse to beare the weight of Anthony! Do brauely Horse, for wot'st thou whom thou moou'st, The demy Atlas of this Earth, the Arme And Burganet of men. Hee's speaking now, Or murmuring, where's my Serpent of old Nyle, (For so he cals me:) Now I feede my selfe With most delicious poyson. Thinke on me That am with Phoebus amorous pinches blacke, And wrinkled deepe in time. Broad-fronted Caesar, When thou was't heere aboue the ground, I was A morsell for a Monarke: and great Pompey Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow, There would he anchor his Aspect, and dye With looking on his life. Enter Alexas from Caesar.

Alex. Soueraigne of Egypt, haile

Cleo. How much vnlike art thou Marke Anthony? Yet comming from him, that great Med'cine hath With his Tinct gilded thee. How goes it with my braue Marke Anthonie? Alex. Last thing he did (deere Queene) He kist the last of many doubled kisses This Orient Pearle. His speech stickes in my heart

Cleo. Mine eare must plucke it thence

Alex. Good Friend, quoth he: Say the firme Roman to great Egypt sends This treasure of an Oyster: at whose foote To mend the petty present, I will peece Her opulent Throne, with Kingdomes. All the East, (Say thou) shall call her Mistris. So he nodded, And soberly did mount an Arme-gaunt Steede, Who neigh'd so hye, that what I would haue spoke, Was beastly dumbe by him

Cleo. What was he sad, or merry? Alex. Like to the time o'th' yeare, between y extremes Of hot and cold, he was nor sad nor merrie

Cleo. Oh well diuided 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 lookes by his. He was not merrie, Which seem'd to tell them, his remembrance lay In Egypt with his ioy, but betweene both. Oh heauenly mingle! Bee'st thou sad, or merrie, The violence of either thee becomes, So do's it no mans else. Met'st thou my Posts? Alex. I Madam, twenty seuerall Messengers. Why do you send so thicke? Cleo. Who's borne that day, when I forget to send to Anthonie, shall dye a Begger. Inke and paper Charmian. Welcome my good Alexas. Did I Charmian, euer loue Caesar so? Char. Oh that braue Caesar! Cleo. Be choak'd with such another Emphasis, Say the braue Anthony

Char. The valiant Caesar

Cleo. By Isis, I will giue thee bloody teeth, If thou with Caesar Paragon againe: My man of men

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

Cleo. My Sallad dayes, When I was greene in iudgement, cold in blood, To say, as I saide then. But come, away, Get me Inke and Paper, he shall haue euery day a seuerall greeting, or Ile vnpeople Egypt.

Exeunt.

Enter Pompey, Menecrates, and Menas, in warlike manner.

Pom. If the great Gods be iust, they shall assist The deeds of iustest men

Mene. Know worthy Pompey, that what they do delay, they not deny

Pom. Whiles we are sutors to their Throne, decayes the thing we sue for

Mene. We ignorant of our selues, Begge often our owne harmes, which the wise Powres Deny vs for our good: so finde we profit By loosing of our Prayers

Pom. I shall do well: The people loue me, and the Sea is mine; My powers are Cressent, and my Auguring hope Sayes it will come to'th' full. Marke Anthony In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make No warres without doores. Caesar gets money where He looses hearts: Lepidus flatters both, Of both is flatter'd: but he neither loues, Nor either cares for him

Mene. Caesar and Lepidus are in the field, A mighty strength they carry

Pom. Where haue you this? 'Tis false

Mene. From Siluius, Sir

Pom. He dreames: I know they are in Rome together Looking for Anthony: but all the charmes of Loue, Salt Cleopatra soften thy wand lip, Let Witchcraft ioyne with Beauty, Lust with both, Tye vp the Libertine in a field of Feasts, Keepe his Braine fuming. Epicurean Cookes, Sharpen with cloylesse sawce his Appetite, That sleepe and feeding may prorogue his Honour, Euen till a Lethied dulnesse- Enter Varrius.

How now Varrius? Var. This is most certaine, that I shall deliuer: Marke Anthony is euery houre in Rome Expected. Since he went from Egypt, 'tis A space for farther Trauaile

Pom. I could haue giuen lesse matter A better eare. Menas, I did not thinke This amorous Surfetter would haue donn'd his Helme For such a petty Warre: His Souldiership Is twice the other twaine: But let vs reare The higher our Opinion, that our stirring Can from the lap of Egypts Widdow, plucke The neere Lust-wearied Anthony

Mene. I cannot hope, Caesar and Anthony shall well greet together; His Wife that's dead, did trespasses to Caesar, His Brother wan'd vpon him, although I thinke Not mou'd by Anthony

Pom. I know not Menas, How lesser Enmities may giue way to greater, Were't not that we stand vp against them all: 'Twer pregnant they should square between themselues, For they haue entertained cause enough To draw their swords: but how the feare of vs May Ciment their diuisions, and binde vp The petty difference, we yet not know: Bee't as our Gods will haue't; it onely stands Our liues vpon, to vse our strongest hands Come Menas.

Exeunt.

Enter Enobarbus and Lepidus.

Lep. Good Enobarbus, 'tis a worthy deed, And shall become you well, to intreat your Captaine To soft and gentle speech

Enob. I shall intreat him To answer like himselfe: if Caesar moue him, Let Anthony looke ouer Caesars head, And speake as lowd as Mars. By Iupiter, Were I the wearer of Anthonio's Beard, I would not shaue't to day

Lep. 'Tis not a time for priuate stomacking

Eno. Euery time serues for the matter that is then borne in't

Lep. But small to greater matters must giue way

Eno. Not if the small come first

Lep. Your speech is passion: but pray you stirre No Embers vp. Heere comes the Noble Anthony. Enter Anthony and Ventidius.

Eno. And yonder Caesar. Enter Caesar, Mecenas, and Agrippa.

Ant. If we compose well heere, to Parthia: Hearke Ventidius

Caesar. I do not know Mecenas, aske Agrippa

Lep. Noble Friends: That which combin'd vs was most great, and let not A leaner action rend vs. What's amisse, May it be gently heard. When we debate Our triuiall difference loud, we do commit Murther in healing wounds. Then Noble Partners, The rather for I earnestly beseech, Touch you the sowrest points with sweetest tearmes, Nor curstnesse grow to'th' matter

Ant. 'Tis spoken well: Were we before our Armies, and to fight, I should do thus. Flourish.

Caes Welcome to Rome

Ant. Thanke you

Caes Sit

Ant. Sit sir

Caes Nay then

Ant. I learne, you take things ill, which are not so: Or being, concerne you not

Caes I must be laught at, if or for nothing, or a little, I Should say my selfe offended, and with you Chiefely i'th' world. More laught at, that I should Once name you derogately: when to sound your name It not concern'd me

Ant. My being in Egypt Caesar, what was't to you? Caes No more then my reciding heere at Rome Might be to you in Egypt: yet if you there Did practise on my State, your being in Egypt Might be my question

Ant. How intend you, practis'd? Caes You may be pleas'd to catch at mine intent, By what did heere befall me. Your Wife and Brother Made warres vpon me, and their contestation Was Theame for you, you were the word of warre

Ant. You do mistake your busines, my Brother neuer Did vrge me in his Act: I did inquire it. And haue my Learning from some true reports That drew their swords with you, did he not rather Discredit my authority with yours, And make the warres alike against my stomacke, Hauing alike your cause. Of this, my Letters Before did satisfie you. If you'l patch a quarrell, As matter whole you haue to make it with, It must not be with this

Caes You praise your selfe, by laying defects of iudgement to me: but you patcht vp your excuses

Anth. Not so, not so: I know you could not lacke, I am certaine on't, Very necessity of this thought, that I Your Partner in the cause 'gainst which he fought, Could not with gracefull eyes attend those Warres Which fronted mine owne peace. As for my wife, I would you had her spirit, in such another, The third oth' world is yours, which with a Snaffle, You may pace easie, but not such a wife

Enobar. Would we had all such wiues, that the men might go to Warres with the women

Anth. So much vncurbable, her Garboiles (Caesar) Made out of her impatience: which not wanted Shrodenesse of policie to: I greeuing grant, Did you too much disquiet, for that you must, But say I could not helpe it

Caesar. I wrote to you, when rioting in Alexandria you Did pocket vp my Letters: and with taunts Did gibe my Misiue out of audience

Ant. Sir, he fell vpon me, ere admitted, then: Three Kings I had newly feasted, and did want Of what I was i'th' morning: but next day I told him of my selfe, which was as much As to haue askt him pardon. Let this Fellow Be nothing of our strife: if we contend Out of our question wipe him

Caesar. You haue broken the Article of your oath, which you shall neuer haue tongue to charge me with

Lep. Soft Caesar

Ant. No Lepidus, let him speake, The Honour is Sacred which he talks on now, Supposing that I lackt it: but on Caesar, The Article of my oath

Caesar. To lend me Armes, and aide when I requir'd them, the which you both denied

Anth. Neglected rather: And then when poysoned houres had bound me vp From mine owne knowledge, as neerely as I may, Ile play the penitent to you. But mine honesty, Shall not make poore my greatnesse, nor my power Worke without it. Truth is, that Fuluia, To haue me out of Egypt, made Warres heere, For which my selfe, the ignorant motiue, do So farre aske pardon, as befits mine Honour To stoope in such a case

Lep. 'Tis Noble spoken

Mece. If it might please you, to enforce no further The griefes betweene ye: to forget them quite, Were to remember: that the present neede, Speakes to attone you

Lep. Worthily spoken Mecenas

Enobar. Or if you borrow one anothers Loue for the instant, you may when you heare no more words of Pompey returne it againe: you shall haue time to wrangle in, when you haue nothing else to do

Anth. Thou art a Souldier, onely speake no more

Enob. That trueth should be silent, I had almost forgot

Anth. You wrong this presence, therefore speake no more

Enob. Go too then: your Considerate stone

Caesar. I do not much dislike the matter, but The manner of his speech: for't cannot be, We shall remaine in friendship, our conditions So diffring in their acts. Yet if I knew, What Hoope should hold vs staunch from edge to edge Ath' world: I would persue it

Agri. Giue me leaue Caesar

Caesar. Speake Agrippa

Agri. Thou hast a Sister by the Mothers side, admir'd Octauia: Great Mark Anthony is now a widdower

Caesar. Say not, say Agrippa; if Cleopater heard you, your proofe were well deserued of rashnesse

Anth. I am not marryed Caesar: let me heere Agrippa further speake

Agri. To hold you in perpetuall amitie, To make you Brothers, and to knit your hearts With an vn-slipping knot, take Anthony, Octauia to his wife: whose beauty claimes No worse a husband then the best of men: whose Vertue, and whose generall graces, speake That which none else can vtter. By this marriage, All little Ielousies which now seeme great, And all great feares, which now import their dangers, Would then be nothing. Truth's would be tales, Where now halfe tales be truth's: her loue to both, Would each to other, and all loues to both Draw after her. Pardon what I haue spoke, For 'tis a studied not a present thought, By duty ruminated

Anth. Will Caesar speake? Caesar. Not till he heares how Anthony is toucht, With what is spoke already

Anth. What power is in Agrippa, If I would say Agrippa, be it so, To make this good? Caesar. The power of Caesar, And his power, vnto Octauia

Anth. May I neuer (To this good purpose, that so fairely shewes) Dreame of impediment: let me haue thy hand Further this act of Grace: and from this houre, The heart of Brothers gouerne in our Loues, And sway our great Designes

Caesar. There's my hand: A Sister I bequeath you, whom no Brother Did euer loue so deerely. Let her liue To ioyne our kingdomes, and our hearts, and neuer Flie off our Loues againe

Lepi. Happily, Amen

Ant. I did not think to draw my Sword 'gainst Pompey, For he hath laid strange courtesies, and great Of late vpon me. I must thanke him onely, Least my remembrance, suffer ill report: At heele of that, defie him

Lepi. Time cals vpon's, Of vs must Pompey presently be sought, Or else he seekes out vs

Anth. Where lies he? Caesar. About the Mount-Mesena

Anth. What is his strength by land? Caesar. Great, and encreasing: But by Sea he is an absolute Master

Anth. So is the Fame. Would we had spoke together. Hast we for it, Yet ere we put our selues in Armes, dispatch we The businesse we haue talkt of

Caesar. With most gladnesse, And do inuite you to my Sisters view, Whether straight Ile lead you

Anth. Let vs Lepidus not lacke your companie

Lep. Noble Anthony, not sickenesse should detaine me.

Flourish. Exit omnes. Manet Enobarbus, Agrippa, Mecenas.

Mec. Welcome from aegypt Sir

Eno. Halfe the heart of Caesar, worthy Mecenas. My honourable Friend Agrippa

Agri. Good Enobarbus

Mece. We haue cause to be glad, that matters are so well disgested: you staid well by't in Egypt

Enob. I Sir, we did sleepe day out of countenaunce: and made the night light with drinking

Mece. Eight Wilde-Boares rosted whole at a breakfast: and but twelue persons there. Is this true? Eno. This was but as a Flye by an Eagle: we had much more monstrous matter of Feast, which worthily deserued noting

Mecenas. She's a most triumphant Lady, if report be square to her

Enob. When she first met Marke Anthony, she purst vp his heart vpon the Riuer of Sidnis

Agri. There she appear'd indeed: or my reporter deuis'd well for her

Eno. I will tell you, The Barge she sat in, like a burnisht Throne Burnt on the water: the Poope was beaten Gold, Purple the Sailes: and so perfumed that The Windes were Loue-sicke. With them the Owers were Siluer, Which to the tune of Flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beate, to follow faster; As amorous of their strokes. For her owne person, It beggerd all discription, she did lye In her Pauillion, cloth of Gold, of Tissue, O're-picturing that Venus, where we see The fancie out-worke Nature. On each side her, Stood pretty Dimpled Boyes, like smiling Cupids, With diuers coulour'd Fannes whose winde did seeme, To gloue the delicate cheekes which they did coole, And what they vndid did

Agrip. Oh rare for Anthony

Eno. Her Gentlewoman, like the Nereides, So many Mer-maides tended her i'th' eyes, And made their bends adornings. At the Helme, A seeming Mer-maide steeres: The Silken Tackle, Swell with the touches of those Flower-soft hands, That yarely frame the office. From the Barge A strange inuisible perfume hits the sense Of the adiacent Wharfes. The Citty cast Her people out vpon her: and Anthony Enthron'd i'th' Market-place, did sit alone, Whisling to'th' ayre: which but for vacancie, Had gone to gaze on Cleopater too, And made a gap in Nature

Agri. Rare Egiptian

Eno. Vpon her landing, Anthony sent to her, Inuited her to Supper: she replyed, It should be better, he became her guest: Which she entreated, our Courteous Anthony, Whom nere the word of no woman hard speake, Being barber'd ten times o're, goes to the Feast; And for his ordinary, paies his heart, For what his eyes eate onely

Agri. Royall Wench: She made great Caesar lay his Sword to bed, He ploughed her, and she cropt

Eno. I saw her once Hop forty Paces through the publicke streete, And hauing lost her breath, she spoke, and panted, That she did make defect, perfection, And breathlesse powre breath forth

Mece. Now Anthony, must leaue her vtterly

Eno. Neuer he will not: Age cannot wither her, nor custome stale Her infinite variety: other women cloy The appetites they feede, but she makes hungry, Where most she satisfies. For vildest things Become themselues in her, that the holy Priests Blesse her, when she is Riggish

Mece. If Beauty, Wisedome, Modesty, can settle The heart of Anthony: Octauia is A blessed Lottery to him

Agrip. Let vs go. Good Enobarbus, make your selfe my guest, whilst you abide heere

Eno. Humbly Sir I thanke you.

Exeunt.

Enter Anthony, Caesar, Octauia betweene them.

Anth. The world, and my great office, will Sometimes deuide me from your bosome

Octa. All which time, before the Gods my knee shall bowe my prayers to them for you

Anth. Goodnight Sir. My Octauia Read not my blemishes in the worlds report: I haue not kept my square, but that to come Shall all be done byth' Rule: good night deere Lady: Good night Sir

Caesar. Goodnight. Enter.

Enter Soothsaier.

Anth. Now sirrah: you do wish your selfe in Egypt? Sooth. Would I had neuer come from thence, nor you thither

Ant. If you can, your reason? Sooth. I see it in my motion: haue it not in my tongue, But yet hie you to Egypt againe

Antho. Say to me, whose Fortunes shall rise higher Caesars or mine? Sooth. Caesars. Therefore (oh Anthony) stay not by his side Thy Daemon that thy spirit which keepes thee, is Noble, Couragious, high vnmatchable, Where Caesars is not. But neere him, thy Angell Becomes a feare: as being o're-powr'd, therefore Make space enough betweene you

Anth. Speake this no more

Sooth. To none but thee no more but: when to thee, If thou dost play with him at any game, Thou art sure to loose: And of that Naturall lucke, He beats thee 'gainst the oddes. Thy Luster thickens, When he shines by: I say againe, thy spirit Is all affraid to gouerne thee neere him: But he alway 'tis Noble

Anth. Get thee gone: Say to Ventigius I would speake with him. Enter.

He shall to Parthia, be it Art or hap, He hath spoken true. The very Dice obey him, And in our sports my better cunning faints, Vnder his chance, if we draw lots he speeds, His Cocks do winne the Battaile, still of mine, When it is all to naught: and his Quailes euer Beate mine (in hoopt) at odd's. I will to Egypte: And though I make this marriage for my peace, I'th' East my pleasure lies. Oh come Ventigius.

Enter Ventigius.

You must to Parthia, your Commissions ready: Follow me, and reciue't.

Exeunt.

Enter Lepidus, Mecenas and Agrippa.

Lepidus. Trouble your selues no further: pray you hasten your Generals after

Agr. Sir, Marke Anthony, will e'ne but kisse Octauia, and weele follow

Lepi. Till I shall see you in your Souldiers dresse, Which will become you both: Farewell

Mece. We shall: as I conceiue the iourney, be at Mount before you Lepidus

Lepi. Your way is shorter, my purposes do draw me much about, you'le win two dayes vpon me

Both. Sir good successe

Lepi. Farewell.

Exeunt.

Enter Cleopater, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas.

Cleo. Giue me some Musicke: Musicke, moody foode of vs that trade in Loue

Omnes. The Musicke, hoa. Enter Mardian the Eunuch.

Cleo. Let it alone, let's to Billiards: come Charmian

Char. My arme is sore, best play with Mardian

Cleopa. As well a woman with an Eunuch plaide, as with a woman. Come you'le play with me Sir? Mardi. As well as I can Madam

Cleo. And when good will is shewed, Though't come to short The Actor may pleade pardon. Ile none now, Giue me mine Angle, weele to'th' Riuer there My Musicke playing farre off. I will betray Tawny fine fishes, my bended hooke shall pierce Their slimy iawes: and as I draw them vp, Ile thinke them euery one an Anthony, And say, ah ha; y'are caught

Char. 'Twas merry when you wager'd on your Angling, when your diuer did hang a salt fish on his hooke which he with feruencie drew vp

Cleo. That time? Oh times: I laught him out of patience: and that night I laught him into patience, and next morne, Ere the ninth houre, I drunke him to his bed: Then put my Tires and Mantles on him, whilst I wore his Sword Phillippan. Oh from Italie, Enter a Messenger.

Ramme thou thy fruitefull tidings in mine eares, That long time haue bin barren

Mes. Madam, Madam

Cleo. Anthonyo's dead. If thou say so Villaine, thou kil'st thy Mistris: But well and free, if thou so yeild him. There is Gold, and heere My blewest vaines to kisse: a hand that Kings Haue lipt, and trembled kissing

Mes. First Madam, he is well

Cleo. Why there's more Gold. But sirrah marke, we vse To say, the dead are well: bring it to that, The Gold I giue thee, will I melt and powr Downe thy ill vttering throate

Mes. Good Madam heare me

Cleo. Well, go too I will: But there's no goodnesse in thy face if Anthony Be free and healthfull; so tart a fauour To trumpet such good tidings. If not well, Thou shouldst come like a Furie crown'd with Snakes, Not like a formall man

Mes. Wilt please you heare me? Cleo. I haue a mind to strike thee ere thou speak'st: Yet if thou say Anthony liues, 'tis well, Or friends with Caesar, or not Captiue to him, Ile set thee in a shower of Gold, and haile Rich Pearles vpon thee

Mes. Madam, he's well

Cleo. Well said

Mes. And Friends with Caesar

Cleo. Th'art an honest man

Mes. Caesar, and he, are greater Friends then euer

Cleo. Make thee a Fortune from me

Mes. But yet Madam

Cleo. I do not like but yet, it does alay The good precedence, fie vpon but yet, But yet is as a Iaylor to bring foorth Some monstrous Malefactor. Prythee Friend, Powre out the packe of matter to mine eare, The good and bad together: he's friends with Caesar, In state of health thou saist, and thou saist, free

Mes. Free Madam, no: I made no such report, He's bound vnto Octauia

Cleo. For what good turne? Mes. For the best turne i'th' bed

Cleo. I am pale Charmian

Mes. Madam, he's married to Octauia

Cleo. The most infectious Pestilence vpon thee.

Strikes him downe.

Mes. Good Madam patience

Cleo. What say you?

Strikes him.

Hence horrible Villaine, or Ile spurne thine eyes Like balls before me: Ile vnhaire thy head,

She hales him vp and downe.

Thou shalt be whipt with Wyer, and stew'd in brine, Smarting in lingring pickle

Mes. Gratious Madam, I that do bring the newes, made not the match

Cleo. Say 'tis not so, a Prouince I will giue thee, And make thy Fortunes proud: the blow thou had'st Shall make thy peace, for mouing me to rage, And I will boot thee with what guift beside Thy modestie can begge

Mes. He's married Madam

Cleo. Rogue, thou hast liu'd too long.

Draw a knife.

Mes. Nay then Ile runne: What meane you Madam, I haue made no fault. Enter.

Char. Good Madam keepe your selfe within your selfe, The man is innocent

Cleo. Some Innocents scape not the thunderbolt: Melt Egypt into Nyle: and kindly creatures Turne all to Serpents. Call the slaue againe, Though I am mad, I will not byte him: Call? Char. He is afeard to come

Cleo. I will not hurt him, These hands do lacke Nobility, that they strike A meaner then my selfe: since I my selfe Haue giuen my selfe the cause. Come hither Sir. Enter the Messenger againe.

Though it be honest, it is neuer good To bring bad newes: giue to a gratious Message An host of tongues, but let ill tydings tell Themselues, when they be felt

Mes. I haue done my duty

Cleo. Is he married? I cannot hate thee worser then I do, If thou againe say yes

Mes. He's married Madam

Cleo. The Gods confound thee, Dost thou hold there still? Mes. Should I lye Madame? Cleo. Oh, I would thou didst: So halfe my Egypt were submerg'd and made A Cesterne for scal'd Snakes. Go get thee hence, Had'st thou Narcissus in thy face to me, Thou would'st appeere most vgly: He is married? Mes. I craue your Highnesse pardon

Cleo. He is married? Mes. Take no offence, that I would not offend you, To punnish me for what you make me do Seemes much vnequall, he's married to Octauia

Cleo. Oh that his fault should make a knaue of thee, That art not what th'art sure of. Get thee hence, The Marchandize which thou hast brought from Rome Are all too deere for me: Lye they vpon thy hand, and be vndone by em

Char. Good your Highnesse patience

Cleo. In praysing Anthony, I haue disprais'd Caesar

Char. Many times Madam

Cleo. I am paid for't now: lead me from hence, I faint, oh Iras, Charmian: 'tis no matter. Go to the Fellow, good Alexas bid him Report the feature of Octauia: her yeares, Her inclination, let him not leaue out The colour of her haire. Bring me word quickly, Let him for euer go, let him not Charmian, Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon, The other wayes a Mars. Bid you Alexas Bring me word, how tall she is: pitty me Charmian, But do not speake to me. Lead me to my Chamber.

Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter Pompey, at one doore with Drum and Trumpet: at another Caesar, Lepidus, Anthony, Enobarbus, Mecenas, Agrippa, Menas with Souldiers Marching.

Pom. Your Hostages I haue, so haue you mine: And we shall talke before we fight

Caesar. Most meete that first we come to words, And therefore haue we Our written purposes before vs sent, Which if thou hast considered, let vs know, If 'twill tye vp thy discontented Sword, And carry backe to Cicelie much tall youth, That else must perish heere

Pom. To you all three, The Senators alone of this great world, Chiefe Factors for the Gods. I do not know, Wherefore my Father should reuengers want, Hauing a Sonne and Friends, since Iulius Caesar, Who at Phillippi the good Brutus ghosted, There saw you labouring for him. What was't That mou'd pale Cassius to conspire? And what Made all-honor'd, honest, Romaine Brutus, With the arm'd rest, Courtiers of beautious freedome, To drench the Capitoll, but that they would Haue one man but a man, and that his it Hath made me rigge my Nauie. At whose burthen, The anger'd Ocean fomes, with which I meant To scourge th' ingratitude, that despightfull Rome Cast on my Noble Father