barbered ten times o’er, goes to the feast, And, for his ordinary, pays his heart For what his eyes eat only. 

 AGRIPPA. Royal wench! She made great Caesar lay his sword to bed. He ploughed her, and she cropped. 

 ENOBARBUS. I saw her once Hop forty paces through the public street And, having lost her breath, she spoke and panted, That she did make defect perfection, And, breathless, pour breath forth. 

 MAECENAS. Now Antony must leave her utterly. 

 ENOBARBUS. Never. He will not. Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety. Other women cloy The appetites they feed, but she makes hungry Where most she satisfies. For vilest things Become themselves in her, that the holy priests Bless her when she is riggish. 

 MAECENAS. If beauty, wisdom, modesty can settle The heart of Antony, Octavia is A blessed lottery to him. 

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

 ENOBARBUS. Humbly, sir, I thank you. 

 [Exeunt.] 

 SCENE III. Rome. A Room in Caesar’s House.

 Enter Antony, Caesar, Octavia between them. 

Antony, Caesar, Octavia

 ANTONY. The world and my great office will sometimes Divide me from your bosom. 

 OCTAVIA. All which time Before the gods my knee shall bow my prayers To them for you. 

 ANTONY. Good night, sir.—My Octavia, Read not my blemishes in the world’s report. I have not kept my square, but that to come Shall all be done by th’ rule. Good night, dear lady. 

 OCTAVIA. Good night, sir. 

 CAESAR. Good night. 

 [Exeunt Caesar and Octavia.] 

Caesar

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