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Agrippa further speak. |
AGRIPPA. To hold you in perpetual amity, |
To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts |
With an unslipping knot, take Antony |
Octavia to his wife; whose beauty claims |
No worse a husband than the best of men; |
Whose virtue and whose general graces speak |
That which none else can utter. By this marriage |
All little jealousies, which now seem great, |
And all great fears, which now import their dangers, |
Would then be nothing. Truths would be tales, |
Where now half tales be truths. Her love to both |
Would each to other, and all loves to both, |
Draw after her. Pardon what I have spoke; |
For 'tis a studied, not a present thought, |
By duty ruminated. |
ANTONY. Will Caesar speak? |
CAESAR. Not till he hears how Antony is touch'd |
With what is spoke already. |
ANTONY. What power is in Agrippa, |
If I would say 'Agrippa, be it so,' |
To make this good? |
CAESAR. The power of Caesar, and |
His power unto Octavia. |
ANTONY. May I never |
To this good purpose, that so fairly shows, |
Dream of impediment! Let me have thy hand. |
Further this act of grace; and from this hour |
The heart of brothers govern in our loves |
And sway our great designs! |
CAESAR. There is my hand. |
A sister I bequeath you, whom no brother |
Did ever love so dearly. Let her live |
To join our kingdoms and our hearts; and never |
Fly off our loves again! |
LEPIDUS. Happily, amen! |
ANTONY. I did not think to draw my sword 'gainst Pompey; |
For he hath laid strange courtesies and great |
Of late upon me. I must thank him only, |
Lest my remembrance suffer ill report; |
At heel of that, defy him. |
LEPIDUS. Time calls upon's. |
Of us must Pompey presently be sought, |
Or else he seeks out us. |
ANTONY. Where lies he? |
CAESAR. About the Mount Misenum. |
ANTONY. What is his strength by land? |
CAESAR. Great and increasing; but by sea |
He is an absolute master. |
ANTONY. So is the fame. |
Would we had spoke together! Haste we for it. |
Yet, ere we put ourselves in arms, dispatch we |
The business we have talk'd of. |
CAESAR. With most gladness; |
And do invite you to my sister's view, |
Whither straight I'll lead you. |
ANTONY. Let us, Lepidus, |
Not lack your company. |
LEPIDUS. Noble Antony, |
Not sickness should detain me. [Flourish] |
Exeunt all but ENOBARBUS, AGRIPPA, MAECENAS |
MAECENAS. Welcome from Egypt, sir. |
ENOBARBUS. Half the heart of Caesar, worthy Maecenas! My honourable |
friend, Agrippa! |
AGRIPPA. Good Enobarbus! |
MAECENAS. We have cause to be glad that matters are so well |
digested. You stay'd well by't in Egypt. |
ENOBARBUS. Ay, sir; we did sleep day out of countenance and made |
the night light with drinking. |
MAECENAS. Eight wild boars roasted whole at a breakfast, and but |
twelve persons there. Is this true? |
ENOBARBUS. This was but as a fly by an eagle. We had much more |
monstrous matter of feast, which worthily deserved noting. |
MAECENAS. She's a most triumphant lady, if report be square to her. |
ENOBARBUS. When she first met Mark Antony she purs'd up his heart, |
upon the river of Cydnus. |
AGRIPPA. There she appear'd indeed! Or my reporter devis'd well for |
her. |
ENOBARBUS. I will tell you. |
The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, |
Burn'd on the water. The poop was beaten gold; |
Purple the sails, and so perfumed that |
The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver, |
Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made |
The water which they beat to follow faster, |
As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, |
It beggar'd all description. She did lie |
In her pavilion, cloth-of-gold, of tissue, |
O'erpicturing that Venus where we see |
The fancy out-work nature. On each side her |
Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, |
With divers-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem |
To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool, |
And what they undid did. |
AGRIPPA. O, rare for Antony! |
ENOBARBUS. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides, |
So many mermaids, tended her i' th' eyes, |
And made their bends adornings. At the helm |
A seeming mermaid steers. The silken tackle |
Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands |
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