Antony and Cleopatra, Act 4, Scene 8

We have beat him to his camp. Run one before And let the Queen know of our gests. Tomorrow, Before the sun shall see’s, we’ll spill the blood That has today escaped. I thank you all, For doughty-handed are you, and have fought Not as you served the cause, but as’t had been Each man’s like mine. You have shown all Hectors. Enter the city, clip your wives, your friends, Tell them your feats; whilst they with joyful tears Wash the congealment from your wounds and kiss The honoured gashes whole.

We have beaten him back to his camp. Let someone run on ahead and tell the Queen about our deeds. Tomorrow, before the sun sees us, we'll spill the blood that got away today. I thank you all, for you are strong-handed men, and you fought not like men serving another's cause but as if it had been each man's own, like mine. You have all shown yourselves Hectors. Go into the city, hug your wives and your friends, tell them what you did, while they with happy tears wash the clotted blood from your wounds and kiss your honourable gashes whole again.

[To Scarus.] Give me thy hand. To this great fairy I’ll commend thy acts, Make her thanks bless thee. O thou day o’ th’ world, Chain mine armed neck. Leap thou, attire and all, Through proof of harness to my heart, and there Ride on the pants triumphing.

[To Scarus.] Give me your hand. I'll praise what you did to this great enchantress, and make her thanks a blessing on you. Oh you daylight of the world, throw your arms around my armoured neck. Leap, clothes and all, through my tested armour to my heart, and there ride in triumph on its pounding.

Lord of lords! O infinite virtue, com’st thou smiling from The world’s great snare uncaught?

Lord of lords! Oh boundless courage, do you come back smiling, never caught in the world's great trap?

Mine nightingale, We have beat them to their beds. What, girl! Though grey Do something mingle with our younger brown, yet ha’ we A brain that nourishes our nerves and can Get goal for goal of youth. Behold this man. Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand.— Kiss it, my warrior. He hath fought today As if a god, in hate of mankind, had Destroyed in such a shape.

My nightingale, we have beaten them back to their beds. Well, girl! Though some grey does mix in with our younger brown, still we have a brain that feeds our sinews and can match youth point for point. Look at this man. Offer your gracious hand to his lips.—Kiss it, my warrior. He has fought today as if a god, hating mankind, had taken that shape and destroyed in it.

I’ll give thee, friend, An armour all of gold. It was a king’s.

My friend, I'll give you a suit of armour made all of gold. It belonged to a king.

He has deserved it, were it carbuncled Like holy Phœbus’ car. Give me thy hand. Through Alexandria make a jolly march; Bear our hacked targets like the men that owe them. Had our great palace the capacity To camp this host, we all would sup together And drink carouses to the next day’s fate, Which promises royal peril.—Trumpeters, With brazen din blast you the city’s ear; Make mingle with our rattling tabourines, That heaven and earth may strike their sounds together, Applauding our approach.

He has earned it, even if it were studded with jewels like holy Phœbus' chariot. Give me your hand. Let's make a cheerful march through Alexandria; carry our battered shields as the men who own them should. If our great palace were big enough to quarter this army, we would all have supper together and drink deep toasts to tomorrow's fate, which promises kingly danger.—Trumpeters, blast the city's ear with your brassy noise; mix your sound with our rattling drums, so that heaven and earth may sound together, applauding our arrival.