Page:Antony and Cleopatra (1921) Yale.djvu/95

Antony and Cleopatra, III. xi

Whip him. Were 't twenty of the greatest tributaries

That do acknowledge Cæsar, should I find them

So saucy with the hand of—she here, what's her name,

Since she was Cleopatra? Whip him, fellows,

Till, like a boy, you see him cringe his face

And whine aloud for mercy; take him hence.

Thyr. Mark Antony,—

Ant. Tug him away; being whipp'd,

Bring him again; this Jack of Cæsar's shall

Bear us an errand to him.

You were half blasted ere I knew you: ha?

Have I my pillow left unpress'd in Rome,

Forborne the getting of a lawful race,

And by a gem of women, to be abus'd

By one that looks on feeders?

Cleo. Good my lord,—

Ant. You have been a boggler ever:

But when we in our viciousness grow hard,—

O misery on 't!—the wise gods seel our eyes;

In our own filth drop our clear judgments; make us

Adore our errors; laugh at's while we strut

To our confusion.

Cleo. O! is 't come to this?

Ant. I found you as a morsel, cold upon

Dead Cæsar's trencher; nay, you were a fragment

Of Cneius Pompey's; besides what hotter hours,

Unregister'd in vulgar fame, you have

Luxuriously pick'd out; for, I am sure,

 105 blasted: withered

109 feeders: dependents

110 boggler: waverer

112 seel: blind

120 Luxuriously: lustfully

