Enobarbus

 ANTONY. Favours, by Jove that thunders! What art thou, fellow? 

 THIDIAS. One that but performs The bidding of the fullest man and worthiest To have command obeyed. 

 ENOBARBUS. [Aside.] You will be whipped. 

 ANTONY. Approach there.—Ah, you kite!—Now, gods and devils, Authority melts from me. Of late when I cried “Ho!” Like boys unto a muss, kings would start forth And cry “Your will?” Have you no ears? I am Antony yet. 

 Enter Servants. 

Servants

 Take hence this jack and whip him. 

 ENOBARBUS. ’Tis better playing with a lion’s whelp Than with an old one dying. 

 ANTONY. Moon and stars! Whip him. Were’t twenty of the greatest tributaries That do acknowledge Caesar, should I find them So saucy with the hand of she here—what’s her name Since she was Cleopatra? Whip him, fellows, Till like a boy you see him cringe his face And whine aloud for mercy. Take him hence. 

 THIDIAS. Mark Antony— 

 ANTONY. Tug him away. Being whipp’d, Bring him again. This jack of Caesar’s shall Bear us an errand to him. 

 [Exeunt Servants with Thidias.] 

Thidias

 You were half blasted ere I knew you. Ha! Have I my pillow left unpressed in Rome, Forborne the getting of a lawful race, And by a gem of women, to be abused By one that looks on feeders? 

 CLEOPATRA. Good my lord— 

 ANTONY. You have been a boggler ever. But when we in our viciousness grow hard— O misery on’t!—the wise gods seal our eyes, In our own filth drop our clear judgments, make us Adore our errors, laugh at’s while we strut To our confusion. 

 CLEOPATRA. O, is’t come to this? 

 ANTONY. I found you as a morsel cold upon Dead Caesar’s trencher; nay, you were a fragment Of Gneius Pompey’s, besides what hotter hours, Unregistered in vulgar fame, you have Luxuriously pick’d out. For I am sure, Though you can guess what temperance 

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