Gods and goddesses,
All the whole synod of them!
What's thy passion!
The greater cantle of the world is lost
With very ignorance; we have kiss'd away
Kingdoms and provinces.
How appears the fight?
On our side like the token'd pestilence,
Where death is sure. Yon ribaudred nag of Egypt,--
Whom leprosy o'ertake!--i' the midst o' the fight,
When vantage like a pair of twins appear'd,
Both as the same, or rather ours the elder,
The breese upon her, like a cow in June,
Hoists sails and flies.
That I beheld:
Mine eyes did sicken at the sight, and could not
Endure a further view.
She once being loof'd,
The noble ruin of her magic, Antony,
Claps on his sea-wing, and, like a doting mallard,
Leaving the fight in height, flies after her:
I never saw an action of such shame;
Experience, manhood, honour, ne'er before
Did violate so itself.
Our fortune on the sea is out of breath,
And sinks most lamentably. Had our general
Been what he knew himself, it had gone well:
O, he has given example for our flight,
Most grossly, by his own!
Ay, are you thereabouts?
Why, then, good night indeed.
Toward Peloponnesus are they fled.
'Tis easy to't; and there I will attend
What further comes.
To Caesar will I render
My legions and my horse: six kings already
Show me the way of yielding.
I'll yet follow
The wounded chance of Antony, though my reason
Sits in the wind against me.