Cæsar's sister.
OCTAVIA.
That's unkind. Had I been nothing more than Cæsar's sister,
Know, I had still remain'd in Cæsar's camp.
But your Octavia, your much injured wife,
Though banish'd from your bed, driv'n from your house,
In spite of Cæsar's sister, still is yours.
'Tis true, I have a heart disdains your coolness,
And prompts me not to seek what you should offer;
But a wife's virtue still surmounts that pride.
I come to claim you as my own; to show
My duty first, to ask, nay, to beg your kindness;
Your hand, my Lord; 'tis mine, and I will have it.
ANTONY.
I fear, Octavia, you have begg'd my life....
Poorly and basely begg'd it of your brother.
OCTAVIA.
Poorly and basely I could never beg,
Nor could my brother grant....
My hard fortune
Subjects me still to your unkind mistakes.
But the conditions I have brought are such,
You need not blush to take. I love your honour
Because 'tis mine. It never shall be said,
Octavia's husband was her brother's slave.
Sir, you are free; free e'en from her you loath;
For tho' my brother bargains for your love,
Makes me the price and cement of your peace,
I have a soul like yours; I cannot take
Your love as alms, nor beg what I deserve.
I'll tell my brother we are reconcil'd.
He shall draw back his troops, and you shall march
To rule the East. I may be dropt at Athens;
No matter where, I never will complain,
But only keep the barren name of wife,
And rid you of the trouble.
There's news for you; run, my officious Eunuch.
Be sure to be the first. Haste forward,
Haste, my dear Eunuch, haste.
On, sweet Eunuch, my dear half-man, proceed....
ANTONY.