1    He calls me boy; and chides, as he had power
2    To beat me out of Egypt; my messenger
3    He hath whipp'd with rods; dares me to personal combat,
4    Caesar to Antony: let the old ruffian know
5    I have many other ways to die; meantime
6    Laugh at his challenge.

7    Caesar must think,
8    When one so great begins to rage, he's hunted
9    Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now
10   Make boot of his distraction: never anger
11   Made good guard for itself.

12   Let our best heads
13   Know, that to-morrow the last of many battles
14   We mean to fight: within our files there are,
15   Of those that served Mark Antony but late,
16   Enough to fetch him in. See it done:
17   And feast the army; we have store to do't,
18   And they have earn'd the waste. Poor Antony!