Ch. 50: SCENE II. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.
SCENE II. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. ****
Enter Antony, Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Charmian, Iras, Alexas with others.
ANTONY.
He will not fight with me, Domitius?
ENOBARBUS.
No.
ANTONY.
Why should he not?
ENOBARBUS.
He thinks, being twenty times of better fortune,
He is twenty men to one.
ANTONY.
Tomorrow, soldier,
By sea and land I’ll fight. Or I will live,
Or bathe my dying honour in the blood
Shall make it live again. Woo’t thou fight well?
ENOBARBUS.
I’ll strike, and cry “Take all.”
ANTONY.
Well said. Come on.
Call forth my household servants. Let’s tonight
Be bounteous at our meal. —
Enter Servants.
Give me thy hand.
Thou has been rightly honest; so hast thou,
Thou, and thou, and thou. You have served me well,
And kings have been your fellows.
CLEOPATRA.
[_Aside to Enobarbus_.] What means this?
ENOBARBUS.
[_Aside to Cleopatra_.] ’Tis one of those odd tricks which sorrow shoots
Out of the mind.
ANTONY.
And thou art honest too.
I wish I could be made so many men,
And all of you clapped up together in
An Antony, that I might do you service
So good as you have done.
ALL THE SERVANTS.
The gods forbid!
ANTONY.
Well, my good fellows, wait on me tonight.
Scant not my cups, and make as much of me
As when mine empire was your fellow too
And suffered my command.
CLEOPATRA.
[_Aside to Enobarbus_.] What does he mean?
ENOBARBUS.
[_Aside to Cleopatra_.] To make his followers weep.
ANTONY.
Tend me tonight;
May be it is the period of your duty.
Haply you shall not see me more, or if,
A mangled shadow. Perchance tomorrow
You’ll serve another master. I look on you
As one that takes his leave. Mine honest friends,
I turn you not away, but, like a master
Married to your good service, stay till death.
Tend me tonight two hours, I ask no more,
And the gods yield you for’t!
ENOBARBUS.
What mean you, sir,
To give them this discomfort? Look, they weep,
And I, an ass, am onion-eyed. For shame,
Transform us not to women.
ANTONY.
Ho, ho, ho!
Now the witch take me if I meant it thus!
Grace grow where those drops fall! My hearty friends,
You take me in too dolorous a sense,
For I spake to you for your comfort, did desire you
To burn this night with torches. Know, my hearts,
I hope well of tomorrow, and will lead you
Where rather I’ll expect victorious life
Than death and honour. Let’s to supper, come,
And drown consideration.
[_Exeunt. _]