Front Page Titles (by Subject) Scene X.—: Between the two Camps. - Anthony and Cleopatra
The Online Library of Liberty
A project of Liberty Fund, Inc.
Search this Title:
Also in the Library:
Scene X.—: Between the two Camps. - William Shakespeare, Anthony and Cleopatra 
The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (The Oxford Shakespeare), ed. with a glossary by W.J. Craig M.A. (Oxford University Press, 1916).
About Liberty Fund:
Liberty Fund, Inc. is a private, educational foundation established to encourage the study of the ideal of a society of free and responsible individuals.
The text is in the public domain.
Fair use statement:
This material is put online to further the educational goals of Liberty Fund, Inc. Unless otherwise stated in the Copyright Information section above, this material may be used freely for educational and academic purposes. It may not be used in any way for profit.
Between the two Camps.
EnterAntonyandScarus,with Forces, marching.
Their preparation is to-day by sea;
We please them not by land.
For both, my lord.
I would they’d fight i’ the fire or i’ the air;
We’d fight there too. But this it is; our foot
Upon the hills adjoining to the city
Shall stay with us; order for sea is given,
They have put forth the haven,
Where their appointment we may best discover
And look on their endeavour.
EnterCæsar,and his Forces, marching.
But being charg’d, we will be still by land,
Which, as I take ’t, we shall; for his best force
Is forth to man his galleys. To the vales,
And hold our best advantage!
Yet they are not join’d. Where yond pine does stand
I shall discover all; I’ll bring thee word
Straight how ’tis like to go.
Swallows have built
In Cleopatra’s sails their nests; the augurers
Say they know not, they cannot tell; look grimly,
And dare not speak their knowledge. Antony
Is valiant, and dejected; and, by starts,
His fretted fortunes give him hope and fear
Of what he has and has not.
[Alarum afar off, as at a sea-fight.
All is lost!
This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me;
My fleet hath yielded to the foe, and yonder
They cast their caps up and carouse together
Like friends long lost. Triple-turn’d whore! ’tis thou
Hast sold me to this novice, and my heart
Makes only wars on thee. Bid them all fly;
For when I am reveng’d upon my charm,
I have done all. Bid them all fly; be gone.
O sun! thy uprise shall I see no more;
Fortune and Antony part here; even here
Do we shake hands. All come to this? The hearts
That spaniel’d me at heels, to whom I gave
Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets
On blossoming Cæsar; and this pine is bark’d,
That overtopp’d them all. Betray’d I am.
O this false soul of Egypt! this grave charm,
Whose eyes beck’d forth my wars, and call’d them home,
Whose bosom was my crownet, my chief end,
Like a right gipsy, hath, at fast and loose,
Beguil’d me to the very heart of loss.
What, Eros! Eros!
Ah! thou spell. Avaunt!
Why is my lord enrag’d against his love?
Vanish, or I shall give thee thy deserving,
And blemish Cæsar’s triumph. Let him take thee,
And hoist thee up to the shouting plebeians;
Follow his chariot, like the greatest spot
Of all thy sex; most monster-like, be shown
For poor’st diminutives, for doits; and let
Patient Octavia plough thy visage up
With her prepared nails.
’Tis well thou’rt gone,
If it be well to live; but better ’twere
Thou fell’st into my fury, for one death
Might have prevented many. Eros, ho!
The shirt of Nessus is upon me; teach me,
Alcides, thou mine ancestor, thy rage;
Let me lodge Lichas on the horns o’ the moon;
And with those hands, that grasp’d the heaviest club,
Subdue my worthiest self. The witch shall die:
To the young Roman boy she hath sold me, and I fall
Under this plot; she dies for ’t. Eros, ho!