CAESAR. I should have known no less. It hath been taught us from the primal state That he which is was wished until he were, And the ebbed man, ne’er loved till ne’er worth love, Comes deared by being lacked. This common body, Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream, Goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide, To rot itself with motion. Enter a second Messenger. SECOND MESSENGER. Caesar, I bring thee word Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates, Make the sea serve them, which they ear and wound With keels of every kind. Many hot inroads They make in Italy—the borders maritime Lack blood to think on’t—and flush youth revolt. No vessel can peep forth but ’tis as soon Taken as seen; for Pompey’s name strikes more Than could his war resisted. CAESAR. Antony, Leave thy lascivious wassails. When thou once Was beaten from Modena, where thou slew’st Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel Did famine follow, whom thou fought’st against, Though daintily brought up, with patience more Than savages could suffer. Thou didst drink The stale of horses and the gilded puddle Which beasts would cough at. Thy palate then did deign The roughest berry on the rudest hedge. Yea, like the stag when snow the pasture sheets, The barks of trees thou browsed. On the Alps It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh Which some did die to look on. And all this— It wounds thine honour that I speak it now— Was borne so like a soldier that thy cheek So much as lanked not. LEPIDUS. ’Tis pity of him. CAESAR. Let his shames quickly Drive him to Rome. ’Tis time we twain Did show ourselves i’ th’ field, and to that end Assemble we immediate council. Pompey Thrives in our idleness. LEPIDUS. Tomorrow, Caesar, I shall be furnished to inform you rightly Both what by sea and land I can be able To front this present time. CAESAR. Till which encounter It is my business too. Farewell. LEPIDUS. Farewell, my lord. What you shall know meantime Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir, To let me be partaker. CAESAR. Doubt not, sir. I knew it for my bond. [_Exeunt._] SCENE V. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras and Mardian. CLEOPATRA. Charmian! CHARMIAN. Madam? CLEOPATRA. Ha, ha! Give me to drink mandragora. CHARMIAN. Why, madam? CLEOPATRA. That I might sleep out this great gap of time My Antony is away. CHARMIAN. 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 unseminared, 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.