ACT IV SCENE VIII | Under the walls of Alexandria. | |
[
Alarum. Enter MARK ANTONY, in a march; SCARUS,
with others
] |
MARK ANTONY | We have beat him to his camp: run one before, |
| And let the queen know of our gests. To-morrow, |
| Before the sun shall see 's, we'll spill the blood |
| That has to-day escaped. I thank you all; |
| For doughty-handed are you, and have fought | 5 |
| Not as you served the cause, but as 't had been |
| Each man's like mine; you have shown all Hectors. |
| Enter the city, clip your wives, your friends, |
| Tell them your feats; whilst they with joyful tears |
| Wash the congealment from your wounds, and kiss | 10 |
| The honour'd gashes whole. |
[To SCARUS] |
| Give me thy hand |
[Enter CLEOPATRA, attended] |
| To this great fairy I'll commend thy acts, |
| Make her thanks bless thee. |
[To CLEOPATRA] |
| O thou day o' the world, | 15 |
| Chain mine arm'd neck; leap thou, attire and all, |
| Through proof of harness to my heart, and there |
| Ride on the pants triumphing! |
CLEOPATRA | Lord of lords! |
| O infinite virtue, comest thou smiling from | 20 |
| The world's great snare uncaught? |
MARK ANTONY | My nightingale, |
| We have beat them to their beds. What, girl! |
| though grey |
| Do something mingle with our younger brown, yet ha' we | 25 |
| A brain that nourishes our nerves, and can |
| Get goal for goal of youth. Behold this man; |
| Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand: |
| Kiss it, my warrior: he hath fought to-day |
| As if a god, in hate of mankind, had | 30 |
| Destroy'd in such a shape. |
CLEOPATRA | I'll give thee, friend, |
| An armour all of gold; it was a king's. |
MARK ANTONY | He has deserved it, were it carbuncled |
| Like holy Phoebus' car. Give me thy hand: | 35 |
| Through Alexandria make a jolly march; |
| Bear our hack'd targets like the men that owe them: |
| Had our great palace the capacity |
| To camp this host, we all would sup together, |
| And drink carouses to the next day's fate, | 40 |
| Which promises royal peril. Trumpeters, |
| With brazen din blast you the city's ear; |
| Make mingle with rattling tabourines; |
| That heaven and earth may strike their sounds together, |
| Applauding our approach. | 45 |
[Exeunt] |