The gods make this a happy day to Antony!

Would thou and those thy scars had once prevail'd
To make me fight at land!

Hadst thou done so,
The kings that have revolted, and the soldier
That has this morning left thee, would have still
Follow'd thy heels.

Who's gone this morning?

Who!
One ever near thee: call for Enobarbus,
He shall not hear thee; or from Caesar's camp
Say 'I am none of thine.'

What say'st thou?

Sir,
He is with Caesar.

Sir, his chests and treasure
He has not with him.

Is he gone?

Most certain.

Go, Eros, send his treasure after; do it;
Detain no jot, I charge thee: write to him—
I will subscribe—gentle adieus and greetings;
Say that I wish he never find more cause
To change a master. O, my fortunes have
Corrupted honest men! Dispatch.—Enobarbus!