A Sennet sounded. Enter CÆSAR, ANTONY, POMPEY, LepiDUS, AGRIPPA, MECENAS, ENOBARBUS, MENAS, with other Captains.

Ant. Thus do they, Sir. [To CÆSAR.] They take the flow o' the Nile

By certain scales i' the pyramid: they know,

By the height, the lowness, or the mean, if dearth,
Or foison, follow. The higher Nilus swells,
The more it promises: as it ebbs, the seedsman
Upon the slime and ooze scatters his grain,
And shortly comes to harvest.

Lep. You have strange serpents there.
Ant.

Ay, Lepidus.

Lep. Your serpent of Egypt is bred, now, of your mud by the operation of your sun: so is your crocodile.

Ant. They are so.

Pom. Sit, and some wine! A health to Lepidus.

Lep. I am not so well as I should be, but I'll ne'er out. Eno. Not till you have slept: I fear me, you'll be in, till then.

Lep. Nay, certainly, I have heard, the Ptolemies' pyramises are very goodly things; without contradiction, I have heard that. Men. [Aside.] Pompey, a word.

Pom.

[Aside.] Say in mine ear: what is 't? Men. [Aside.] Forsake thy seat, I do beseech thee, captain, And hear me speak a word.

Pom.

This wine for Lepidus.

[Aside.] Forbear me till anon. —

Lep. What manner o' thing is your crocodile?

Ant. It is shaped, Sir, like itself, and it is as broad as it hath breadth; it is just so high as it is, and moves with its own organs; it lives by that which nourisheth it, and the elements once out of it, it transmigrates.

Lep. What colour is it of?

Ant. Of its own colour too.

Lep. 'T is a strange serpent.

Ant. 'Tis so; and the tears of it are wet.

Cæs. Will this description satisfy him?

Ant. With the health that Pompey gives him, else he is a

very epicure.

Pom. [To MENAS, aside.] Go, hang, Sir, hang! Tell me of that? away!

Do as I bid you.

Where's this cup I call'd for?

Men. [Aside.] If for the sake of merit thou wilt hear me, Rise from thy stool.

Pom. [Aside.] I think, thou 'rt mad. The matter?

[Walks aside.

Men. I have ever held my cap off to thy fortunes. Pom. Thou hast serv'd me with much faith. What's else to say?— Be jolly, lords.

Men. Wilt thou be lord of the whole world? That's twice.

Pom. How should that be?

Men.

But entertain it,

And though thou think me poor, I am the man

Will give thee all the world.

Pom.

Hast thou drunk well?

Men. No, Pompey, I have kept me from the cup. Thou art, if thou dar'st be, the earthly Jove:

Whate'er the ocean pales, or sky inclips,

Is thine, if thou wilt have 't.

Pom.

Show me which way.

Men. These three world-sharers, these competitors,

Are in thy vessel: let me cut the cable;

And, when we are put off, fall to their throats:

All there is thine.

Pom.

Ah! this thou should'st have done,

And not have spoke on 't. In me, 't is villainy;

In thee, 't had been good service. Thou must know, 'Tis not my profit that does lead mine honour,

Mine honour, it. Repent, that e'er thy tongue

Hath so betray'd thine act: being done unknown,
I should have found it afterwards well done,
But must condemn it now. Desist, and drink.
Men. [Aside.] For this,

I'll never follow thy pall'd fortunes more.

Who seeks, and will not take, when once 't is offer'd,
Shall never find it more.

Men.

Eno.

[Pointing to the Attendant who carries off LEPIDUS.

The third part of the world, man: see'st not?

Why?

He bears

Men. The third part, then, he is drunk: would it were all,

That it might go on wheels!

Eno. Drink thou; increase the reels.

Men.

Pom.

Come.

This is not yet an Alexandrian feast.

Ant. It ripens towards it. Strike the vessels, ho!

Here is to Cæsar.

Cœs

I could well forbear it.

It's monstrous labour, when I wash my brain,

And it grows fouler.

Ant.

Be a child o' the time.

Cæs. Possess it, I'll make answer; but I had rather fast

From all four days, than drink so much in once.

Eno. Ha, my brave emperor!

Shall we dance now the Egyptian Bacchanals,

And celebrate our drink?

Pom.

[TO ANTONY.

Let's ha't, good soldier.

Ant. Come, let us all take hands,

Till that the conquering wine hath steep'd our sense

In soft and delicate Lethe.

Make battery to our ears with the loud music;

The while I'll place you: then, the boy shall sing;
The holding every man shall bear, as loud

As his strong sides can volley.

[Music plays. ENOBARBUS places them hand in hand.

Good brother,

Pompey, good night.

Let me request you off: our graver business
Frowns at this levity. - Gentle lords, let's part;
You see,
we have burnt our cheeks. Strong Enobarbe
Is weaker than the wine, and mine own tongue
Splits what it speaks: the wild disguise hath almost
Antick'd us all. What needs more words? Good night.
Good Antony, your hand.

Pom.
I'll try you on the shore.
Ant. And shall, Sir. Give 's your hand.

Pom.

You have my father's house.
Come down into the boat.

Eno.

O, Antony!
But what? we are friends.

[Exeunt POMPEY, CÆSAR, ANTONY, and Attendants.

Menas, I'll not on shore.

Men.

These drums!

Let Neptune hear, we bid a loud farewell

To these great fellows: sound, and be hang'd! sound out!

[A Flourish.

Enter VENTIDIUS, as it were in triumph, with SILIUS, and other Romans, Officers, and Soldiers; the dead Body of PACORUS borne before him.

Ven. Now, darting Parthia, art thou struck; and now

Pleas'd fortune does of Marcus Crassus' death

Make me revenger. Bear the king's son's body

Before our army. — Thy Pacorus, Orodes,

Pays this for Marcus Crassus.

Sil.

Noble Ventidius,

Whilst yet with Parthian blood thy sword is warm,
The fugitive Parthians follow: spur through Media,
Mesopotamia, and the shelters whither

The routed fly so thy grand captain, Antony,
Shall set thee on triumphant chariots, and
Put garlands on thy head.

Ven.
O Silius, Silius!
I have done enough: a lower place, note well,
May make too great an act; for learn this, Silius,
Better to leave undone, than by our deeds acquire
Too high a fame, when him we serve's away.
Cæsar and Antony have ever won

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

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

I could do more to do Antonius good,