Act IV, Scene i:
Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.

[Enter ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUS, CHARMIAN, IRAS, ALEXAS, andothers.]

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:

To-morrow, 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 to-night

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 serv'd 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 clapp'd up together in

An Antony, that I might do you service

So good as you have done.

SERVANT:

The gods forbid!

ANTONY:

Well, my good fellows, wait on me to-night:

Scant not my cups; and make as much of me

As when mine empire was your fellow too,

And suffer'd my command.

CLEOPATRA:

[Aside to ENOBARBUS.] What does he mean?

ENOBARBUS:

[Aside to CLEOPATRA.] To make his followers weep.

ANTONY:

Tend me to-night;

May be it is the period of your duty:

Haply you shall not see me more; or if,

A mangled shadow: perchance to-morrow

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 to-night 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-ey'd: 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 to-morrow; and will lead you

Where rather I'll expect victorious life

Than death and honour. Let's to supper; come,

And drown consideration.

[Exeunt.]