Flourish. Enter Pompey and Menas at one door, with drum and trumpet: at another, Octavius Caesar, Mark Antony, Lepidus, Domitius Enobarbus, Mecaenas, with Soldiers marching
Most meet That first we come to words; and therefore have we Our written purposes before us sent; Which, if thou hast consider'd, let us know If 'twill tie up thy discontented sword, And carry back to Sicily much tall youth That else must perish here.
To you all three, The senators alone of this great world, Chief factors for the gods, I do not know Wherefore my father should revengers want, Having a son and friends; since Julius Caesar, Who at Philippi the good Brutus ghosted, There saw you labouring for him. What was't That moved pale Cassius to conspire; and what Made the all-honour'd, honest Roman, Brutus, With the arm'd rest, courtiers and beauteous freedom, To drench the Capitol; but that they would Have one man but a man? And that is it Hath made me rig my navy; at whose burthen The anger'd ocean foams; with which I meant To scourge the ingratitude that despiteful Rome Cast on my noble father.
Thou canst not fear us, Pompey, with thy sails; We'll speak with thee at sea: at land, thou know'st How much we do o'er-count thee.
At land, indeed, Thou dost o'er-count me of my father's house: But, since the cuckoo builds not for himself, Remain in't as thou mayst.
Be pleased to tell us— For this is from the present—how you take The offers we have sent you.
You have made me offer Of Sicily, Sardinia; and I must Rid all the sea of pirates; then, to send Measures of wheat to Rome; this 'greed upon To part with unhack'd edges, and bear back Our targes undinted.
Know, then, I came before you here a man prepared To take this offer: but Mark Antony Put me to some impatience: though I lose The praise of it by telling, you must know, When Caesar and your brother were at blows, Your mother came to Sicily and did find Her welcome friendly.
The beds i' the east are soft; and thanks to you, That call'd me timelier than my purpose hither; For I have gain'd by 't.
Well, I know not What counts harsh fortune casts upon my face; But in my bosom shall she never come, To make my heart her vassal.
I hope so, Lepidus. Thus we are agreed: I crave our composition may be written, And seal'd between us.
No, Antony, take the lot: but, first Or last, your fine Egyptian cookery Shall have the fame. I have heard that Julius Caesar Grew fat with feasting there.
Let me shake thy hand; I never hated thee: I have seen thee fight, When I have envied thy behavior.
Sir, I never loved you much; but I ha' praised ye, When you have well deserved ten times as much As I have said you did.
Enjoy thy plainness, It nothing ill becomes thee. Aboard my galley I invite you all: Will you lead, lords?
Exeunt all but Menas and Enobarbus
I will praise any man that will praise me; though it cannot be denied what I have done by land.
Yes, something you can deny for your own safety: you have been a great thief by sea.
There I deny my land service. But give me your hand, Menas: if our eyes had authority, here they might take two thieves kissing.
For my part, I am sorry it is turned to a drinking. Pompey doth this day laugh away his fortune.
I think so too. But you shall find, the band that seems to tie their friendship together will be the very strangler of their amity: Octavia is of a holy, cold, and still conversation.
Not he that himself is not so; which is Mark Antony. He will to his Egyptian dish again: then shall the sighs of Octavia blow the fire up in Caesar; and, as I said before, that which is the strength of their amity shall prove the immediate author of their variance. Antony will use his affection where it is: he married but his occasion here.