All in one half-an-hour, to make an ass of him:
I make no doubt she will be drunk too, damnably,
And in her drink will fight; then she fits him.
Ant. That thou shouldst bring her in!

Sce. 'Twas my blind fortune.

My soldiers told me, by the weight 'twas wicked. 'Would I had carried Milo's bull a furlong, When I brought in this cow-calf!

vanced me,

He has ad

From an old soldier, to a bawd of memory:
Oh, that the sons of Pompey were behind him,
The honour'd Cato and fierce Juba with 'em,
That they might whip him from his whore,

and

rouse him ; That their fierce trumpets from his wanton tranceș Might shake him, like an earthquake!

Enter SEPTIMIUS.

Ant. What's this fellow?

Dol. Why, a brave fellow, if we judge men by their clothes.9

Ant. By my faith, he's brave indeed! He's no commander?

Sce. Yes, he has a Roman face; he has been at fair wars,

And plenteous too, and rich; his trappings shew it.

of our authors was not the same. The prologue says, the spectators

will find

Young Cleopatra here, and her great mind

Express'd to th' height, with us a maid, and free,
And how he rated her virginity:

We treat not of what boldness she did die,

Nor of her fatal love to Antony.

Ed. 1778.

? 4 brave fellow, if we judge men by their clothes.] This is a quibble upon the usual acceptation of the word brave, and that which it bore anciently,-gorgeous, gallantly attired.

Sept. An they'll not know me now, they'll never know me.

Who dare blush now at my acquaintance? Ha? Am I not totally a span-new gallant,

Fit for the choicest eyes? Have I not gold,
The friendship of the world? If they shun,me now,
(Though I were the arrant'st rogue, as I'm well
forward)

Mine own curse and the devil's are lit on me.
Ant. Is't not Septimius?

Sce. Yes.

Dol. He that kill'd Pompey?

Sce. The same dog-scab; that gilded botch, that rascal!

Dol. How glorious villainy appears in Egypt! Sept. Gallants, and soldiers-Sure they do ad

mire me.

Sce. Stand further off; thou stink'st.
Sept. A likely matter:

These clothes smell mustily, do they not, gallants? They stink, they stink, alas, poor things, contemptible!

By all the gods in Egypt, the perfumes

That went to trimming these clothes, cost me
Sce. Thou stink'st still.

Sept. The powd'ring of this head too--
Sce. If thou hast it,

I'll tell thee all the gums in sweet Arabia
Are not sufficient, were they burnt about thee,
To purge the scent of a rank rascal from thee.

I

Span-new. The more common phrase is spick and span new ; but span-new occurs in Chaucer, and also in the romance of Alisaunder, v. 4055.

→ The same dog, scab.] Whom does he call scab? we should certainly read dog-scab. In the same scene Dolabella says of Septimius, "A dead dog's sweeter," and Sceva almost repeats dog-scab, calling him mangy mongrel.-Ed. 1778.

Ant. I smell him now: Fý, how the knave perfumes him,

How strong he scents of traitor!

Dol. You had an ill milliner,

He laid too much of the gum of ingratitude Upon your coat; you should have wash'd off that,

sir;

Fy, how it choaks! too little of your loyalty,
Your honesty, your faith, that are pure ambers.
I smell the rotten smell of a hired coward;
A dead dog's sweeter.

Sept. Ye are merry, gentlemen,

And, by my troth, such harmless mirth takes me

too;

You speak like good blunt soldiers! and 'tis well

enough:

But did you live at court, as I do, gallants,

You would refine, and learn an apter language.
I have done ye simple service on your Pompey;
You might have look'd him3 yet this brace of
twelvemonths,

And hunted after him, like founder'd beagles,
Had not this fortunate hand--

Ant. He brags on't too!

By the good gods, rejoices in't!-Thou wretch, Thou most contemptible slave!

Sce. Dog, mangy mongrel,

Thou murd'ring mischief, in the shape of soldier,
To make all soldiers hateful! thou disease,
That nothing but the gallows can give ease to!
Dol. Thou art so impudent, that I admire thee,
And know not what to say.

Sept. I know your anger,

And why you prate thus; I have found your melancholy:

3 Look'd him.] That is, looked after him, searched for him.

Ye all want money, and ye are liberal captains, And in this want will talk a little desperately. Here's gold; come, share; I love a brave commander:

And be not peevish; do as Cæsar does;

He's merry with his wench now, be you jovial, And let's all laugh and drink. Would ye have partners?

I do consider all your wants, and weigh 'em ; He has the mistress, you shall have the maids; I'll bring 'em to ye, to your arms.

Ant. I blush,

All over me I blush, and sweat to hear him`! Upon my conscience, if my arms were on now, Through them I should blush too: Pray ye let's be walking.

Sce. Yes, yes: But, ere we go, I'll leave this

lesson,

And let him study it:-First, rogue! then, pandar! Next, devil that will be! get thee from men's presence,

And, where the name of soldier has been heard of, Be sure thou live not! To some hungry desart, Where thou canst meet with nothing but thy conscience;

And that in all the shapes of all thy villainies Attend thee still! where brute beasts will abhor

thee,

And e'en the sun will shame to give thee light, Go, hide thy head! or, if thou think'st it fitter, Go hang thyself!

Dol. Hark to that clause.

Sce. And that speedily,

That Nature may be eased of such a monster!

[Exeunt all but SEPTIMIUS. Sept. Yet all this moves not me, nor reflects on

me;

I keep my gold still, and my confidence.
Their want of breeding makes these fellows mur-

mur;

Rude valours, so I'll let 'em pass, rude honours ! There is a wench yet, that I know affects me, And company for a king; a young plump villain, That, when she sees this gold, she'll leap upon me;

Enter EROS.4

And here she comes: I am sure of her at midnight. My pretty Eros, welcome!

Eros. I have business.

Sept. Above my love, thou canst not.

Eros. Yes, indeed, sir,

Far, far above.

Sept. Why, why so coy? Pray you tell me. We are alone.

Eros. I am much ashamed we are so.

Sept. You want a new gown now, and a handsome petticoat,

4 Enter Eros.] The last editors have suffered this stage direction to remain, though sorely against their conscience; for they cannot conceive how Eros, Cleopatra's waiting woman, should demean herself by being the loose companion of Septimius. Surely those gentlemen did not enter upon their task without having read a few old plays, at least some of our authors'. If they had, their talent of observation must have been very limited. For Fletcher, and almost all his contemporaries, paint waiting-women in the most odious colours. There are very few exceptions to this practice; and such a general delineation of their depravity must certainly have had its rise in the manners of the times. Why then should Eros be so singularly chaste? Besides, as Mason observes, Septimius calls her by her name immediately after her entrance, and had previously offered her to the captains; for, speaking of Cæsar,

he

says,

"He had the mistress; you shall have the maids :
I'll bring them to ye, to your arms."

1