Alarum. Enter Antony again in a march;
Scarus, with others. ANTONY
We have beat him to his camp. Run one before
And let the Queen know of our guests. A Soldier exits. Tomorrow
Before the sun shall see ’s, we’ll spill the blood
That has today escaped. I thank you all, 5
For doughty-handed are you, and have fought
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 10
Wash the congealment from your wounds and kiss
The honored gashes whole. Enter Cleopatra. To Scarus. Give me thy hand.
To this great fairy I’ll commend thy acts,
Make her thanks bless thee.—O, thou day o’ th’ 15
world,
Chain mine armed neck. Leap thou, attire and all,
Through proof of harness to my heart, and there
Ride on the pants triumphing. | Antony returns in full force to Alexandria. He praises everyone, and they plan to battle again tomorrow. |
CLEOPATRA Lord of lords! 20
O infinite virtue, com’st thou smiling from
The world’s great snare uncaught? ANTONY Mine nightingale,
We have beat them to their beds. What, girl, though
gray 25
Do something mingle with our younger brown, yet
ha’ we
A brain that nourishes our nerves and can
Get goal for goal of youth. Behold this man.
Commend unto his lips thy favoring hand.— 30
Kiss it, my warrior. Scarus kisses her hand.
He hath fought today
As if a god in hate of mankind had
Destroyed in such a shape. CLEOPATRA, to Scarus I’ll give thee, friend, 35
An armor all of gold. It was a king’s. | Cleopatra then enters, and Antony greets her gaily. He happily presents Scarus and all his wounds to Cleopatra, who praises them all and promises him a suit of golden armor that once belonged to a king. |
ANTONY
He has deserved it, were it carbuncled
Like holy Phoebus’ car. Give me thy hand.
Through Alexandria make a jolly march.
Bear our hacked targets like the men that owe 40
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,
Which promises royal peril.—Trumpeters, 45
With brazen din blast you the city’s ear.
Make mingle with our rattling taborins,
That heaven and Earth may strike their sounds
together,
Applauding our approach. 50 They exit. | They dedicate the night to celebrating their victory in decadent Egyptian fashion. |