Well, I know not
What counts harsh Fortune casts upon my face;
But in my bosom shall she never come,
To make my heart her vassal.
(II. vi. 55.)
Antony confesses that he owes him thanks for generous treatment:
He hath laid strange courtesies and great
Of late upon me.
(II. ii. 157.)
We presently get to hear what these were, and must admit that he acted like a gentleman: