The Tragedy of Antony and Cleopatra. Уильям Шекспир

You think of him too much.

        CLEOPATRA. O, 'tis treason!

        CHARMIAN. Madam, I trust, not so.

        CLEOPATRA. Thou, eunuch Mardian!

        MARDIAN. What's your Highness' pleasure?

        CLEOPATRA. Not now to hear thee sing; I take no pleasure

          In aught an eunuch has. 'Tis well for thee

          That, being unseminar'd, thy freer thoughts

          May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou affections?

        MARDIAN. Yes, gracious madam.

        CLEOPATRA. Indeed?

        MARDIAN. Not in deed, madam; for I can do nothing

          But what indeed is honest to be done.

          Yet have I fierce affections, and think

          What Venus did with Mars.

        CLEOPATRA. O Charmian,

          Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he or sits he?

          Or does he walk? or is he on his horse?

          O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony!

          Do bravely, horse; for wot'st thou whom thou mov'st?

          The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm

          And burgonet of men. He's speaking now,

          Or murmuring 'Where's my serpent of old Nile?'

          For so he calls me. Now I feed myself

          With most delicious poison. Think on me,

          That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black,

          And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Caesar,

          When thou wast here above the ground, I was

          A morsel for a monarch; and great Pompey

          Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow;

          There would he anchor his aspect and die

          With looking on his life.

      Enter ALEXAS

        ALEXAS. Sovereign of Egypt, hail!

        CLEOPATRA. How much unlike art thou Mark Antony!

          Yet, coming from him, that great med'cine hath

          With his tinct gilded thee.

          How goes it with my brave Mark Antony?

        ALEXAS. Last thing he did, dear Queen,

          He kiss'd- the last of many doubled kisses-

          This orient pearl. His speech sticks in my heart.

        CLEOPATRA. Mine ear must pluck it thence.

        ALEXAS. 'Good friend,' quoth he

          'Say the firm Roman to great Egypt sends

          This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot,

          To mend the petty present, I will piece

          Her opulent throne with kingdoms. All the East,

          Say thou, shall call her mistress.' So he nodded,

          And soberly did mount an arm-gaunt steed,

          Who neigh'd so high that what I would have spoke

          Was beastly dumb'd by him.

        CLEOPATRA. What, was he sad or merry?

        ALEXAS. Like to the time o' th' year between the extremes

          Of hot and cold; he was nor sad nor merry.

        CLEOPATRA. O well-divided disposition! Note him,

          Note him, good Charmian; 'tis the man; but note him!

          He was not sad, for he would shine on those

          That make their looks by his; he was not merry,

          Which seem'd to tell them his remembrance lay

          In Egypt with his joy; but between both.

          O heavenly mingle! Be'st thou sad or merry,

          The violence of either thee becomes,

          So does it no man else. Met'st thou my posts?

        ALEXAS. Ay, madam, twenty several messengers.

          Why do you send so thick?

        CLEOPATRA. Who's born that day

          When I forget to send to Antony

          Shall die a beggar. Ink and paper, Charmian.

          Welcome, my good Alexas. Did I, Charmian,

          Ever love Caesar so?

        CHARMIAN. O that brave Caesar!

        CLEOPATRA. Be chok'd with such another emphasis!

          Say 'the brave Antony.'

        CHARMIAN. The valiant Caesar!

        CLEOPATRA. By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth

          If thou with Caesar paragon again

          My man of men.

        CHARMIAN. By your most gracious pardon,

          I sing but after you.

        CLEOPATRA. My salad days,

          When I was green in judgment, cold in blood,

          To say as I said then. But come, away!

          Get me ink and paper.

          He shall have every day a several greeting,

          Or I'll unpeople Egypt. Exeunt

      ACT II. SCENE I. Messina. POMPEY'S house

      Enter POMPEY, MENECRATES, and MENAS, in warlike manner

        POMPEY. If the great gods be just, they shall assist

          The deeds of justest men.

        MENECRATES. Know, worthy Pompey,

          That what they do delay they not deny.

        POMPEY. Whiles we are suitors to their throne, decays

          The thing we sue for.

        MENECRATES. We, ignorant of ourselves,

          Beg often our own harms, which the wise pow'rs

          Deny us for our good; so find we profit

          By losing of our prayers.

        POMPEY. I shall do well.

          The people love me, and the sea is mine;

          My powers are crescent, and my auguring hope

          Says it will come to th' full. Mark Antony

          In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make

          No wars without doors. Caesar gets money where

          He loses hearts. Lepidus flatters both,

          Of both is flatter'd; but he neither loves,

          Nor either cares for him.

        MENAS. Caesar and Lepidus

          Are in the field. A mighty strength they carry.

        POMPEY. Where have you this? 'Tis false.

        MENAS.