VENTIDIUS.
O Silius, Silius,
I have done enough. A lower place, note well,
May make too great an act. For learn this, Silius:
Better to leave undone than by our deed
Acquire too high a fame when him we serve’s away.
Caesar and Antony have ever won
More in their officer, than person. Sossius,
One of my place in Syria, his lieutenant,
For quick accumulation of renown,
Which he achieved by th’ minute, lost his favour.
Who does i’ th’ wars more than his captain can
Becomes his captain’s captain; and ambition,
The soldier’s virtue, rather makes choice of loss
Than gain which darkens him.
I could do more to do Antonius good,
But ’twould offend him, and in his offence
Should my performance perish.
SILIUS.
Thou hast, Ventidius, that
Without the which a soldier and his sword
Grants scarce distinction. Thou wilt write to Antony?
VENTIDIUS.
I’ll humbly signify what in his name,
That magical word of war, we have effected;
How, with his banners, and his well-paid ranks,
The ne’er-yet-beaten horse of Parthia
We have jaded out o’ th’ field.
SILIUS.
Where is he now?
VENTIDIUS.
He purposeth to Athens, whither, with what haste
The weight we must convey with ’s will permit,
We shall appear before him.—On there, pass along!
[Exeunt.]
SCENE II. Rome. An Ante-chamber in Caesar’s house.
Enter Agrippa at one door, Enobarbus at another.
AGRIPPA.
What, are the brothers parted?
ENOBARBUS.
They have dispatched with Pompey; he is gone.
The other three are sealing. Octavia weeps
To part from Rome. Caesar is sad, and Lepidus,
Since Pompey’s feast, as Menas says, is troubled
With the greensickness.