Antony and Cleopatra, William Shakespeare [inspiring books for teens TXT] 📗

did love him dearly,
    You do not hold the method to enforce
    The like from him.
  CLEOPATRA. What should I do I do not?
  CHARMIAN. In each thing give him way; cross him in nothing.
  CLEOPATRA. Thou teachest like a fool- the way to lose him.
  CHARMIAN. Tempt him not so too far; I wish, forbear;
    In time we hate that which we often fear.

Enter ANTONY

    But here comes Antony.
  CLEOPATRA. I am sick and sullen.
  ANTONY. I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose-
  CLEOPATRA. Help me away, dear Charmian; I shall fall.
    It cannot be thus long; the sides of nature
    Will not sustain it.
  ANTONY. Now, my dearest queen-
  CLEOPATRA. Pray you, stand farther from me.
  ANTONY. What's the matter?
  CLEOPATRA. I know by that same eye there's some good news.
    What says the married woman? You may go.
    Would she had never given you leave to come!
    Let her not say 'tis I that keep you here-
    I have no power upon you; hers you are.
  ANTONY. The gods best know-
  CLEOPATRA. O, never was there queen
    So mightily betray'd! Yet at the first
    I saw the treasons planted.
  ANTONY. Cleopatra-
  CLEOPATRA. Why should I think you can be mine and true,
    Though you in swearing shake the throned gods,
    Who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous madness,
    To be entangled with those mouth-made vows,
    Which break themselves in swearing!
  ANTONY. Most sweet queen-
  CLEOPATRA. Nay, pray you seek no colour for your going,
    But bid farewell, and go. When you sued staying,
    Then was the time for words. No going then!
    Eternity was in our lips and eyes,
    Bliss in our brows' bent, none our parts so poor
    But was a race of heaven. They are so still,
    Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world,
    Art turn'd the greatest liar.
  ANTONY. How now, lady!
  CLEOPATRA. I would I had thy inches. Thou shouldst know
    There were a heart in Egypt.
  ANTONY. Hear me, queen:
    The strong necessity of time commands
    Our services awhile; but my full heart
    Remains in use with you. Our Italy
    Shines o'er with civil swords: Sextus Pompeius
    Makes his approaches to the port of Rome;
    Equality of two domestic powers
    Breed scrupulous faction; the hated, grown to strength,
    Are newly grown to love. The condemn'd Pompey,
    Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace
    Into the hearts of such as have not thrived
    Upon the present state, whose numbers threaten;
    And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge
    By any desperate change. My more particular,
    And that which most with you should safe my going,
    Is Fulvia's death.
  CLEOPATRA. Though age from folly could not give me freedom,
     It does from childishness. Can Fulvia die?
  ANTONY. She's dead, my Queen.
    Look here, and at thy sovereign leisure read
    The garboils she awak'd. At the last, best.
    See when and where she died.
  CLEOPATRA. O most false love!
    Where be the sacred vials thou shouldst fill
    With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see,
    In Fulvia's death how mine receiv'd shall be.
  ANTONY. Quarrel no more, but be prepar'd to know
    The purposes I bear; which are, or cease,
    As you shall give th' advice. By the fire
    That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence
    Thy soldier, servant, making peace or war
    As thou affects.
  CLEOPATRA. Cut my lace, Charmian, come!
    But let it be; I am quickly ill and well-
    So Antony loves.
  ANTONY. My precious queen, forbear,
    And give true evidence to his love, which stands
    An honourable trial.
  CLEOPATRA. So Fulvia told me.
    I prithee turn aside and weep for her;
    Then bid adieu to me, and say the tears
    Belong to Egypt. Good now, play one scene
    Of excellent dissembling, and let it look
    Like perfect honour.
  ANTONY. You'll heat my blood; no more.
  CLEOPATRA. You can do better yet; but this is meetly.
  ANTONY. Now, by my sword-
  CLEOPATRA. And target. Still he mends;
    But this is not the best. Look, prithee, Charmian,
    How this Herculean Roman does become
    The carriage of his chafe.
  ANTONY. I'll leave you, lady.
  CLEOPATRA. Courteous lord, one word.
    Sir, you and I must part- but that's not it.
    Sir, you and I have lov'd- but there's not it.
    That you know well. Something it is I would-
    O, my oblivion is a very Antony,
    And I am all forgotten!
  ANTONY. But that your royalty
    Holds idleness your subject, I should take you
    For idleness itself.
  CLEOPATRA. 'Tis sweating labour
    To bear such idleness so near the heart
    As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me;
    Since my becomings kill me when they do not
    Eye well to you. Your honour calls you hence;
    Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly,
    And all the gods go with you! Upon your sword
    Sit laurel victory, and smooth success
    Be strew'd before your feet!
  ANTONY. Let us go. Come.
    Our separation so abides and flies
    That thou, residing here, goes yet with me,
    And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee.
    Away! Exeunt

SCENE IV. Rome. CAESAR'S house

Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, reading a letter; LEPIDUS, and their train

  CAESAR. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know,
    It is not Caesar's natural vice to hate
    Our great competitor. From Alexandria
    This is the news: he fishes, drinks, and wastes
    The lamps of night in revel; is not more manlike
    Than Cleopatra, nor the queen of Ptolemy
    More womanly than he; hardly gave audience, or
    Vouchsaf'd to think he had partners. You shall find there
    A man who is the abstract of all faults
    That all men follow.
  LEPIDUS. I must not think there are
    Evils enow to darken all his goodness.
    His faults, in him, seem as the spots of heaven,
    More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary
    Rather than purchas'd; what he cannot change
    Than what he chooses.
  CAESAR. You are too indulgent. Let's grant it is not
    Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy,
    To give a kingdom for a mirth, to sit
    And keep the turn of tippling with a slave,
    To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet
    With knaves that smell of sweat. Say this becomes him-
    As his composure must be rare indeed
    Whom these things cannot blemish- yet must Antony
    No way excuse his foils when we do bear
    So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd
    His vacancy with his voluptuousness,
    Full surfeits and the dryness of his bones
    Call on him for't! But to confound such time
    That drums him from his sport and speaks as loud
    As his own state and ours- 'tis to be chid
    As we rate boys who, being mature in knowledge,
    Pawn their experience to their present pleasure,
    And so rebel to judgment.

Enter a MESSENGER

  LEPIDUS. Here's more news.
  MESSENGER. Thy biddings have been done; and every hour,
    Most noble Caesar, shalt thou have report
    How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea,
    And it appears he is belov'd of those
    That only have fear'd Caesar. To the ports
    The discontents repair, and men's reports
    Give him much wrong'd.
  CAESAR. I should have known no less.
    It hath been taught us from the primal state
    That he which is was wish'd until he were;
    And the ebb'd man, ne'er lov'd till ne'er worth love,
    Comes dear'd by being lack'd. This common body,
    Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream,
    Goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide,
    To rot itself with motion.
  MESSENGER. Caesar, I bring thee word
    Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates,
    Make the sea serve them, which they ear and wound
    With keels of every kind. Many hot inroads
    They make in Italy; the borders maritime
    Lack blood to think on't, and flush youth revolt.
    No vessel can peep forth but 'tis as soon
    Taken as seen; for Pompey's name strikes more
    Than could his war resisted.
  CAESAR. Antony,
    Leave thy lascivious wassails. When thou once
    Was beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st
    Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel
    Did famine follow; whom thou fought'st against,
    Though daintily brought up, with patience more
    Than savages could suffer. Thou didst drink
    The stale of horses and the gilded puddle
    Which beasts would cough at. Thy palate then did deign
    The roughest berry on the rudest hedge;
    Yea, like the stag when snow the pasture sheets,
    The barks of trees thou brows'd. On the Alps
    It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh,
    Which some did die to look on. And all this-
    It wounds thine honour that I speak it now-
    Was borne so like a soldier that thy cheek
    So much as lank'd not.
  LEPIDUS. 'Tis pity of him.
  CAESAR. Let his shames quickly
    Drive him to Rome. 'Tis time we twain
    Did show ourselves i' th' field; and to that end
    Assemble we immediate council. Pompey
    Thrives in our idleness.
  LEPIDUS. To-morrow, Caesar,
    I shall be furnish'd to inform you rightly
    Both what by sea and land I can be able
    To front this present time.
  CAESAR. Till which encounter
    It is my business too. Farewell.
  LEPIDUS. Farewell, my lord. What you shall know meantime
    Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir,
    To let me be partaker.
  CAESAR. Doubt not, sir;
    I knew it for my bond. Exeunt

SCENE V. Alexandria. CLEOPATRA'S palace

Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN

  CLEOPATRA. Charmian!
  CHARMIAN. Madam?
  CLEOPATRA. Ha, ha!
    Give me to drink mandragora.
  CHARMIAN. Why, madam?
  CLEOPATRA. That I might sleep out this great gap of time
    My Antony is away.
  CHARMIAN. You think of him too much.
  CLEOPATRA. O, 'tis treason!
  CHARMIAN. Madam, I trust, not so.
  CLEOPATRA. Thou, eunuch Mardian!
  MARDIAN. What's your Highness' pleasure?
  CLEOPATRA. Not now to hear thee sing; I take no pleasure
    In aught an eunuch has. 'Tis well for thee
    That, being unseminar'd, thy freer thoughts
    May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou affections?
  MARDIAN. Yes, gracious madam.
  CLEOPATRA. Indeed?
  MARDIAN. Not in deed, madam; for I can do nothing
    But what indeed is honest to be done.
    Yet have I fierce affections, and think
    What Venus did with Mars.
  CLEOPATRA. O Charmian,
    Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he or sits he?
    Or does he walk? or is he on his horse?
    O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony!
    Do bravely, horse; for wot'st thou whom thou mov'st?
    The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm
    And burgonet of men. He's speaking now,
    Or murmuring 'Where's my serpent of old Nile?'
    For so he calls me. Now I feed myself
    With most delicious poison. Think on me,
    That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black,
    And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Caesar,
    When thou wast here above the ground, I was
    A morsel for a monarch; and great Pompey
    Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow;
    There would he anchor his aspect and die
    With looking on his life.

Enter ALEXAS

  ALEXAS. Sovereign of Egypt, hail!
  CLEOPATRA. How much unlike art thou Mark Antony!
    Yet, coming from him, that great med'cine hath
    With his tinct gilded thee.
    How goes it with my brave Mark Antony?
  ALEXAS. Last thing he did, dear Queen,
    He kiss'd- the last of many doubled kisses-
    This orient pearl. His speech sticks in my heart.
  CLEOPATRA. Mine ear must pluck it thence.
  ALEXAS. 'Good friend,' quoth he
    'Say the firm Roman to great Egypt sends
    This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot,
    To mend the petty present, I will piece
    Her opulent throne with kingdoms. All the East,
    Say thou, shall call her mistress.' So he nodded,
    And soberly did mount an arm-gaunt steed,
    Who neigh'd so high that what I would have spoke
    Was beastly dumb'd by him.
  CLEOPATRA. What, was he sad or merry?
  ALEXAS. Like to the time o' th' year between the extremes
    Of hot and cold; he was nor sad nor merry.
  CLEOPATRA. O well-divided disposition! Note him,
    Note him, good Charmian; 'tis the man; but note him!
    He was not sad, for he would shine on those
    That make their looks by his; he was not merry,
    Which seem'd to tell them his remembrance lay
    In Egypt with his joy; but between both.
    O heavenly mingle! Be'st thou sad or merry,
    The violence of either thee becomes,
    So does it no man else. Met'st thou my posts?
  ALEXAS. Ay, madam, twenty several messengers.
    Why do you send so thick?
  CLEOPATRA. Who's born that day
    When I forget to send to Antony
    Shall die a beggar. Ink and paper, Charmian.
    Welcome, my good Alexas. Did I, Charmian,
    Ever love Caesar so?
  CHARMIAN. O that brave Caesar!
  CLEOPATRA. Be chok'd with such another emphasis!
    Say 'the brave Antony.'
  CHARMIAN. The valiant Caesar!
  CLEOPATRA. By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth
    If thou with