Here they’ll be, man. Some o’ their plants are ill-rooted already; the

least wind i’ th’ world will blow them down.

Lepidus is high-coloured.

They have made him drink alms-drink.

As they pinch one another by the disposition, he cries out “no more”,

reconciles them to his entreaty and himself to th’ drink.

But it raises the greater war between him and his discretion.

Why, this it is to have a name in great men’s fellowship. I had as lief

have a reed that will do me no service as a partisan I could not heave.

To be called into a huge sphere, and not to be seen to move in ’t, are

the holes where eyes should be, which pitifully disaster the cheeks.

[_To Caesar_.] Thus do they, sir: they take the flow o’ th’ Nile

By certain scales i’ th’ pyramid; they know

By th’ 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.

You’ve strange serpents there?

Ay, Lepidus.

Your serpent of Egypt is bred now of your mud by the operation of your

sun; so is your crocodile.

They are so.

Sit, and some wine! A health to Lepidus!

I am not so well as I should be, but I’ll ne’er out.

Not till you have slept. I fear me you’ll be in till then.

Nay, certainly, I have heard the Ptolemies’ pyramises are very goodly

things. Without contradiction I have heard that.

[_Aside to Pompey_.] Pompey, a word.

[_Aside to Menas_.] Say in mine ear what is ’t?

[_Whispers in ’s ear._] Forsake thy seat, I do beseech thee, captain,

And hear me speak a word.

[_Aside to Menas._] Forbear me till anon.—

This wine for Lepidus!

What manner o’ thing is your crocodile?

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 it own organs. It lives by

that which nourisheth it, and the elements once out of it, it

transmigrates.

What colour is it of?

Of its own colour too.

’Tis a strange serpent.

’Tis so, and the tears of it are wet.

Will this description satisfy him?

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

[_Aside to Menas._] Go hang, sir, hang! Tell me of that? Away!

Do as I bid you.—Where’s this cup I called for?

[_Aside to Pompey_.] If for the sake of merit thou wilt hear me,

Rise from thy stool.

[_Aside to Menas_.] I think thou’rt mad.

The matter?

I have ever held my cap off to thy fortunes.

Thou hast served me with much faith. What’s else to say?—

Be jolly, lords.

These quicksands, Lepidus,

Keep off them, for you sink.

Wilt thou be lord of all the world?

What sayst thou?

Wilt thou be lord of the whole world?

That’s twice.

How should that be?

But entertain it,

And though you think me poor, I am the man

Will give thee all the world.

Hast thou drunk well?

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.

Show me which way.

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 then is thine.

Ah, this thou shouldst have done

And not have spoke on ’t! In me ’tis 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.

[_Aside_.] For this,

I’ll never follow thy palled fortunes more.

Who seeks, and will not take when once ’tis offered,

Shall never find it more.

This health to Lepidus!

Bear him ashore. I’ll pledge it for him, Pompey.

Here’s to thee, Menas!

Enobarbus, welcome!

Fill till the cup be hid.

There’s a strong fellow, Menas.

Why?

’A bears the third part of the world, man. Seest not?

The third part, then, is drunk. Would it were all,

That it might go on wheels!

Drink thou. Increase the reels.

Come.

This is not yet an Alexandrian feast.

It ripens towards it. Strike the vessels, ho!

Here is to Caesar!

I could well forbear’t.

It’s monstrous labour when I wash my brain

And it grows fouler.

Be a child o’ the time.

Possess it, I’ll make answer.

But I had rather fast from all, four days,

Than drink so much in one.

[_To Antony_.] Ha, my brave emperor,

Shall we dance now the Egyptian Bacchanals

And celebrate our drink?

Let’s ha’t, good soldier.

Come, let’s all take hands

Till that the conquering wine hath steeped our sense

In soft and delicate Lethe.

All take hands.

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 beat as loud

As his strong sides can volley.

THE SONG.

What would you more? Pompey, good night. Good brother,

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 Enobarb

Is weaker than the wine, and mine own tongue

Splits what it speaks. The wild disguise hath almost

Anticked us all. What needs more words. Good night.

Good Antony, your hand.

I’ll try you on the shore.

And shall, sir. Give’s your hand.

O Antony,

You have my father’s house.

But, what? We are friends. Come, down into the boat.

Take heed you fall not.

Menas, I’ll not on shore.

No, to my cabin. These drums, these trumpets, flutes! What!

Let Neptune hear we bid a loud farewell

To these great fellows. Sound and be hanged, sound out!

Hoo, says ’a! There’s my cap!

Hoo! Noble captain, come.