ENOBARBUS.
Drink thou. Increase the reels.
MENAS.
Come.
POMPEY.
This is not yet an Alexandrian feast.
ANTONY.
It ripens towards it. Strike the vessels, ho!
Here is to Caesar!
CAESAR.
I could well forbear’t.
It’s monstrous labour when I wash my brain
And it grows fouler.
ANTONY.
Be a child o’ the time.
CAESAR.
Possess it, I’ll make answer.
But I had rather fast from all, four days,
Than drink so much in one.
ENOBARBUS.
[To Antony.] Ha, my brave emperor,
Shall we dance now the Egyptian Bacchanals
And celebrate our drink?
POMPEY.
Let’s ha’t, good soldier.
ANTONY.
Come, let’s all take hands
Till that the conquering wine hath steeped our sense
In soft and delicate Lethe.