Ant. Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can Her heart informe her tongue. The Swannes downe feather That stands vpon the Swell at the full of Tide: And neither way inclines
Eno. Will Caesar weepe? Agr. He ha's a cloud in's face
Eno. He were the worse for that were he a Horse, so is he being a man
Agri. Why Enobarbus: When Anthony found Iulius Caesar dead, He cried almost to roaring: And he wept, When at Phillippi he found Brutus slaine
Eno. That year indeed, he was trobled with a rheume, What willingly he did confound, he wail'd, Beleeu't till I weepe too
Caesar. No sweet Octauia, You shall heare from me still: the time shall not Out-go my thinking on you
Ant. Come Sir, come, Ile wrastle with you in my strength of loue, Looke heere I haue you, thus I let you go, And giue you to the Gods
Caesar. Adieu, be happy
Lep. Let all the number of the Starres giue light To thy faire way
Caesar. Farewell, farewell.
Kisses Octauia.
Ant. Farewell.
Trumpets sound. Exeunt.
Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas.
Cleo. Where is the Fellow? Alex. Halfe afeard to come
Cleo. Go too, go too: Come hither Sir. Enter the Messenger as before.
Alex. Good Maiestie: Herod of Iury dare not looke vpon you, but when you are well pleas'd
Cleo. That Herods head, Ile haue: but how? When Anthony is gone, through whom I might commaund it: Come thou neere
Mes. Most gratious Maiestie
Cleo. Did'st thou behold Octauia? Mes. I dread Queene
Cleo. Where? Mes. Madam in Rome, I lookt her in the face: and saw her led betweene her Brother, and Marke Anthony
Cleo. Is she as tall as me? Mes. She is not Madam
Cleo. Didst heare her speake? Is she shrill tongu'd or low? Mes. Madam, I heard her speake, she is low voic'd
Cleo. That's not so good: he cannot like her long
Char. Like her? Oh Isis: 'tis impossible
Cleo. I thinke so Charmian: dull of tongue, & dwarfish What Maiestie is in her gate, remember If ere thou look'st on Maiestie
Mes. She creepes: her motion, & her station are as one. She shewes a body, rather then a life, A Statue, then a Breather
Cleo. Is this certaine? Mes. Or I haue no obseruance
Cha. Three in Egypt cannot make better note
Cleo. He's very knowing, I do perceiu't, There's nothing in her yet. The Fellow ha's good iudgement
Char. Excellent
Cleo. Guesse at her yeares, I prythee
Mess. Madam, she was a widdow
Cleo. Widdow? Charmian, hearke
Mes. And I do thinke she's thirtie
Cle. Bear'st thou her face in mind? is't long or round? Mess. Round, euen to faultinesse
Cleo. For the most part too, they are foolish that are so. Her haire what colour? Mess. Browne Madam: and her forehead As low as she would wish it
Cleo. There's Gold for thee, Thou must not take my former sharpenesse ill, I will employ thee backe againe: I finde thee Most fit for businesse. Go, make thee ready, Our Letters are prepar'd
Char. A proper man
Cleo. Indeed he is so: I repent me much That so I harried him. Why me think's by him, This Creature's no such thing
Char. Nothing Madam
Cleo. The man hath seene some Maiesty, and should know
Char. Hath he seene Maiestie? Isis else defend: and seruing you so long
Cleopa. I haue one thing more to aske him yet good Charmian: but 'tis no matter, thou shalt bring him to me where I will write; all may be well enough