Ant. She is cunning past man's thought. Eno. Alack, sir, no; her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love: We cannot call her winds and waters, sighs and tears; they are greater storms and tempests than almanacks can report: this cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a shower of rain as well as Jove. Ant. 'Would I had never seen her! Eno. O, sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece of work; which not to have been blessed withal, would have discredited your travel. Ant. Fulvia is dead. Eno. Sir? Ant. Fulvia is dead. Ant. Dead. Eno. Why, sir, give the gods a thankful sacrifice. When it pleaseth their deities to take the wife of a man from him, it shows to man the tailors of the earth; comforting therein, that when old robes are worn out, there are members to make new. If there were no more women but Fulvia, then had you indeed a cut, and the case to be lamented: this grief is crowned with consolation; your old smock brings forth a new petticoat:—and, indeed, the tears live in an onion, that should water this sorrow. Ant. The business she hath broached in the state, Cannot endure my absence. Eno. And the business you have broached here cannot be without you; especially that of Cleopatra's, which wholly depends on your abode. Ant. No more light answers. Let our officers Have notice what we purpose. I shall break The cause of our expedience to the queen, And get her lovet to part. For not alone The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches, Do strongly speak to us; but the letters too Of many our contriving friends in Rome Eno. I shall do't. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas. Cleo. Where is he? Char. I did not see him since. Cleo. See where he is, who's with him, what he does : I did not send you t;-If you find him sad, That I am sudden sick: Quick, and return. [Exit Alex. Char, Madam, methinks, if you did love him dearly, You do not hold the method to enforce The like from him. Cleo. What should I do, I do not? Char. In each thing give him way, cross him in nothing. * Horse's. + Look as if I did not send you. Cleo. Thou teach est like a fool: the way to lose him. Char. Tempt him not so too far: I wish, forbear; In time we hate that which we often fear. Enter Antony. But here comes Antony. I am sick, and sullen. Cleo. Ant. I am sorry to give breathing to my pur pose, Cleo. Help me away, dear Charmian, I shall fall; It cannot be thus long, the sides of nature Will not sustain it. Ant. Now, my deare st queen, Cleo. Pray you, stand further from me. What's the matter? Cleo. I know, by that same eye, there's some good news. What says the married woman?-You may go ; I have no power upon you; hers you are. Cleo. O, never was there queen So mightily betray'd! Yet, at the first, Ant. Cleopatra, Cleo. Why should I think, you can be mine, and true, Though you in swearing shake the throned gods, Who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous madness, To be entangled with those mouth-made vows, Which break themselves in swearing! Ant. Most sweet queen, Cleo. Nay, pray you, seek no colour for your go ing, But bid farewell, and go: when you sued staying, Then was the time for words: No going then ;Eternity was in our lips, and eyes; Bliss in our brows' bent; none our parts so poor, Art turn'd the greatest liar. Ant. How now, lady! Cleo. I would, I had thy inches; thou shouldst know, There were a heart in Egypt. Hear me, queen: Ant. Our services a while; but my full heart Shines o'er with civil swords: Sextus Pompeius Breeds scrupulous faction: The hated, grown to strength, Are newly grown to love: the condemn'd Pompey, Into the hearts of such as have not thriv'd Is Fulvia's death. Cleo. Though age from folly could not give me freedom, It does from childishness:-Can Fulvia die ||? Look here, and, at thy sovereign leisure, read Cleo. *The arch of our eye-brows. + Smack or flavour. O most false love! Gate. Render my going not dangerous. The commotion she occasioned. Where be the sacred vials thou should'st fill Cleo. Cut my lace, Charmian, come ; But let it be. I am quickly ill, and well: Ant. My precious queen, forbear; And give true evidence to his love, which stands An honourable trial. Cleo. So Fulvia told me. I pr'ythee, turn aside, and weep for her; Ant. You'll heat my blood; no more. Cleo. You can do better yet; but this is meetly. Ant. Now, by my sword, Cleo. And target,-Still he mends; But this is not the best: Look, pr'ythee, Charmian, How this Herculean Roman does become The carriage of his chafe ‡. Ant. I'll leave you, lady. Cleo. Courteous lord, one word. Sir, you and I must part, but that's not it: Sir, you and I have lov'd, but there's not it; That you know well: Something it is I would,- And I am all forgotten. Ant. But that your royalty * Mud of the river Nile. To me, the queen of Egypt. § Oblivious memory. |