Antony and Cleopatra Translation Act 4, Scene 8
Alarum. Enter ANTONY again in a march; SCARUS, with others
We have beat him to his camp. Run one beforeAnd let the Queen know of our gests.
We have beat him back to his camp. Let someone run on ahead and tell the Queen what we've accomplished.
Exit a soldier
Tomorrow, Before the sun shall see ’s, we’ll spill the blood That has today escaped. I thank you all, For doughty-handed are you, and have fought Not as you served the cause, but as ’t had been Each man’s like mine. You have shown all Hectors. Enter the city. Clip your wives, your friends. Tell them your feats, whilst they with joyful tears Wash the congealment from your wounds and kiss The honored gashes whole.
Tomorrow, before the sun rises, we'll kill all the enemy forces that escaped us today. I thank you all, for you are brave, and you didn't fight as though you had been commanded to serve this cause, but as though it were as much your own cause as it is mine. You have all fought as bravely as Hector. Enter the city. Embrace your wives, your friends. Tell them what you have done, while they wash the congealed blood from your wounds with joyful tears and heal your honorable injuries with kisses.
[To SCARUS] Give me thy hand. To this great fairy I’ll commend thy acts, Make her thanks bless thee. O thou day o’ the world, (to CLEOPATRA) Chain mine armed neck. Leap thou, attireand all, Through proof of harness to my heart, and there Ride on the pants triumphing!
Lord of lords!O infinite virtue, com’st thou smiling fromThe world’s great snare uncaught?
Mine nightingale, We have beat them to their beds. What, girl, though gray Do 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.
SCARUS kisses CLEOPATRA’s hand
He hath fought todayAs if a god, in hate of mankind, hadDestroyed in such a shape.
[To SCARUS] I’ll give thee, friend,An armor all of gold. It was a king’s.
He has deserved it, were it carbuncled Like holy Phoebus’ car. Give me thy hand. Through 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, Which 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.
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