esign: no
longer will we hang on poised wings above the flood of war, but will
straightway plunge, perchance thence to snatch the victor's diadem, or,
failing, there to drown. Be now but true to me, and to your honour's
sake, and you may still sit, the most proud of men, at my right hand in
the Capitol of Rome. Fail me now, and the cause of Antony is lost and so
are ye. To-morrow's battle must be hazardous indeed, but we have stood
many a time and faced a fiercer peril, and ere the sun had sunk, once
more have driven armies like desert sands before our gale of valour and
counted the spoil of hostile kings. What have we to fear? Though allies
be fled, still is our array as strong as Caesar's! And show we but as
high a heart, why, I swear to you, upon my princely word, to-morrow
night I shall deck yonder Canopic gate with the heads of Octavian and
his captains!

"Ay, cheer, and cheer again! I love that martial music which swells,
not as from the indifferent lips of clarions, now 'neath the breath of
Antony and now of Caesar, but rather out of the single hearts of men who
love me. Yet--and now I will speak low, as we do speak o'er the bier of
some beloved dead--yet, if Fortune should rise against me and if, borne
down by the weight of arms, Antony, the soldier, dies a soldier's death,
leaving you to mourn him who ever was your friend, this is my will,
that, after our rough fashion of the camp, I here declare to you. You
know where all my treasure lies. Take it, most dear friends; and, in the
memory of Antony, make just division. Then go to Caesar and speak thus:
'Antony, the dead, to Caesar, the living, sends greeting; and, in the
name of ancient fellowship and of many a peril dared, craves this boon:
the safety of those who clung to him and that which he hath given them.'

"Nay, let not my tears--for I must weep--overflow your eyes! Why, it is
not manly; 'tis most womanish! All men must die, and death were welcome
were it not so lone. Should I fall, I leave my children to your
tender care--if, perchance, it may avail to save them from the fate
of helplessness. Soldiers, enough! to-morrow at the dawn we spring on
Caesar's throat, both by land and sea. Swear that ye will cling to me,
even to the last issue!"

"We swear!" they cried. "Noble Antony, we swear!"

"It is well! Once more my star grows bright; to-morrow, set in the
highest heaven, it yet may shine the lamp of Caesar down! Till then,
farewell!"

He turned to