A rarer spirit never
Did steer humanity: but you, gods, will give us
Some faults to make us men. Caesar is touch'd.

And strange it is,
That nature must compel us to lament
Our most persisted deeds.

Retire, we have engaged ourselves too far:
Caesar himself has work, and our oppression
Exceeds what we expected.

Caesar, I shall.

Welcome, lady.

Sir, this should be answer'd.

Who does he accuse?

Who, queasy with his insolence
Already, will their good thoughts call from him.

Aside to DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Why, Enobarbus,
When Antony found Julius Caesar dead,
He cried almost to roaring; and he wept
When at Philippi he found Brutus slain.

Aside to DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS He has a cloud in 's face.

Good fortune, worthy soldier; and farewell.

Both he loves.

Indeed, he plied them both with excellent praises.

O Antony! O thou Arabian bird!

What's Antony? The god of Jupiter.

Nay, but how dearly he adores Mark Antony!

'Tis a noble Lepidus.

What, are the brothers parted?

Sir, Mark Antony
Will e'en but kiss Octavia, and we'll follow.

Let us go.
Good Enobarbus, make yourself my guest
Whilst you abide here.

Royal wench!
She made great Caesar lay his sword to bed:
He plough'd her, and she cropp'd.

Rare Egyptian!

O, rare for Antony!

There she appeared indeed; or my reporter devised
well for her.

Good Enobarbus!

To hold you in perpetual amity,
To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts
With an unslipping knot, take Antony
Octavia to his wife; whose beauty claims
No worse a husband than the best of men;
Whose virtue and whose general graces speak
That which none else can utter ...

Thou hast a sister by the mother's side,
Admired Octavia: great Mark Antony
Is now a widower.

Give me leave, Caesar,--