OCTAVIA. Thanks to my lord. The Jove of power make me, most weak, most weak, Your reconciler! Wars ’twixt you twain would be As if the world should cleave, and that slain men Should solder up the rift. 

 ANTONY. When it appears to you where this begins, Turn your displeasure that way, for our faults Can never be so equal that your love Can equally move with them. Provide your going; Choose your own company, and command what cost Your heart has mind to. 

 [Exeunt.] 

 SCENE V. Athens. Another Room in Antony’s House.

 Enter Enobarbus and Eros meeting. 

Enobarbus

Eros

 ENOBARBUS. How now, friend Eros? 

 EROS. There’s strange news come, sir. 

 ENOBARBUS. What, man? 

 EROS. Caesar and Lepidus have made wars upon Pompey. 

 ENOBARBUS. This is old. What is the success? 

 EROS. Caesar, having made use of him in the wars ’gainst Pompey, presently denied him rivality; would not let him partake in the glory of the action, and, not resting here, accuses him of letters he had formerly wrote to Pompey; upon his own appeal, seizes him. So the poor third is up, till death enlarge his confine. 

 ENOBARBUS. Then, world, thou hast a pair of chaps, no more, And throw between them all the food thou hast, They’ll grind the one the other. Where’s Antony? 

 EROS. He’s walking in the garden, thus, and spurns The rush that lies before him; cries “Fool Lepidus!” And threats the throat of that his officer That murdered Pompey. 

 ENOBARBUS. Our great navy’s rigged. 

 EROS. For Italy and Caesar. More, Domitius: My lord desires you presently. My news I might have told hereafter. 

 ENOBARBUS. ’Twill be naught, But let it be. Bring me to Antony. 

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