stop me. Come, Let's have one other gaudy night: call to me All my sad captains; fill our bowls once more; Let's mock the midnight bell. It is my birth-day: I had thought to have held it poor: but, since my lord Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra. We will yet do well. Call all his noble captains to my lord. Do so, we'll speak to them; and to-night I'll force The wine peep through their scars. Come on, my queen; There's sap in't yet. The next time I do fight, I'll make death love me; for I will contend Even with his pestilent scythe. Now he'll outstare the lightning. To be furious, Is to be frighted out of fear; and in that mood The dove will peck the estridge; and I see still, A diminution in our captain's brain Restores his heart: when valour preys on reason, It eats the sword it fights with. I will seek Some way to leave him. He calls me boy; and chides, as he had power To beat me out of Egypt; my messenger He hath whipp'd with rods; dares me to personal combat, Caesar to Antony: let the old ruffian know I have many other ways to die; meantime Laugh at his challenge. Caesar must think, When one so great begins to rage, he's hunted Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now Make boot of his distraction: never anger Made good guard for itself. Let our best heads Know, that to-morrow the last of many battles We mean to fight: within our files there are, Of those that served Mark Antony but late, Enough to fetch him in. See it done: And feast the army; we have store to do't, And they have earn'd the waste. Poor Antony! He will not fight with me, Domitius. No. Why should he not? He thinks, being twenty times of better fortune, He is twenty men to one. To-morrow, soldier, By sea and land I'll fight: or I will live, Or bathe my dying honour in the blood Shall make it live again. Woo't thou fight well? I'll strike, and cry 'Take all.' Well said; come on. Call forth my household servants: let's to-night Be bounteous at our meal. Give me thy hand, Thou hast been rightly honest;--so hast thou;-- Thou,--and thou,--and thou:--you have served me well, And kings have been your fellows. What means this? 'Tis one of those odd tricks which sorrow shoots Out of the mind. And thou art honest too.