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Antony and Cleopatra

William Shakespeare
No Fear Act 4 Scene 8
No Fear Act 4 Scene 8 Page 2

Original Text

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ANTONY

                                                                   Mine nightingale,
We have beat them to their beds. What, girl, though gray
20Do 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.
(to SCARUS ) Kiss it, my warrior.

ANTONY

My songbird, we have beaten them to their beds. What do you think, girl!
Even though there are some gray hairs among the brown, I still have a brain and muscles that will let me compete with younger men. Look at this man. Show him favor by letting him kiss your hand. (to SCARUS ) Kiss it, my warrior.
SCARUS kisses CLEOPATRA’s hand
SCARUS kisses CLEOPATRA’s hand
                                                              He hath fought today
25As if a god, in hate of mankind, had
Destroyed in such a shape.
Today he fought as though he were a god who hated mankind.

CLEOPATRA

            (to SCARUS )              I’ll give thee, friend,
An armor all of gold. It was a king’s.

CLEOPATRA

(to SCARUS ) Friend, I’ll give you armor made of gold. It belonged to a king.

ANTONY

He has deserved it, were it carbuncled
Like holy Phoebus’ car. Give me thy hand.
30Through Alexandria make a jolly march.
Bear our hacked targets like the men that owe 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,
35Which promises royal peril.—Trumpeters,
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.

ANTONY

He deserves it, even if it were covered with jewels like holy

Phoebus’ car

the chariot that the sun god Phoebus drove across the sky

Phoebus’ car
. Give me your hand. Let’s have a cheerful march through Alexandria, proudly carrying our dented shields. If we had enough room in the palace to house this army, we’d all eat together and toast tomorrow, which promises to be full of danger. Trumpeters, blast the city’s ears. Mix your fanfares with our drums, so that sounds from both heaven and earth will herald our approach.