Give me leave, Caesar
Give me leave, Caesar.
Thou hast a sister by the mother's side,
Admired Octavia. Great Mark Antony
Is now a widower.
Say not so, Agrippa.
If Cleopatra heard you, your reproof
Were well deserved of rashness.
I am not married, Caesar. Let me hear
Agrippa further speak.
To hold you in perpetual amity,
To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts
With an unslipping knot, take Antony
Octavia to his wife, whose beauty claims
No worse a husband than the best of men;
Whose virtue and whose general graces speak
That which none else can utter. By this marriage
All little jealousies, which now seem great,
And all great fears, which now import their dangers,
Would then be nothing. Truths would be tales,
Where now half-tales be truths. Her love to both
Would each to other and all loves to both
Draw after her. Pardon what I have spoke,
For 'tis a studied, not a present thought,
By duty ruminated.
Will Caesar speak?
Not till he hears how Antony is touched
With what is spoke already.
What power is in Agrippa,
If I would say “Agrippa, be it so,”
To make this good?
The power of Caesar, and
His power unto Octavia.
May I never
To this good purpose, that so fairly shows,
Dream of impediment. Let me have thy hand.
Further this act of grace; and from this hour
The heart of brothers govern in our loves
And sway our great designs.
There's my hand.
They clasp hands.
A sister I bequeath you whom no brother
Did ever love so dearly. Let her live
To join our kingdoms and our hearts; and never
Fly off our loves again.