Have power to utter, O. then we bring forth weeds,
When our quick minds lie still; and our ills told us
Is as our caring. Fare thee well awhile.
Mess. At your noble pleasure.

Ant. From Sicyon, bo, the news! Speak there!
First Att. The man from Sicyon,-is there such an one?
Sec. Att. He stays upon your will.

Let him appear. These strong Egyptian fetters I must break,

120 Or lose myself in dotage.

Enter another Messenger.

What are you? Sec. Mess. Fulvia thy wife is dead. Ant.

Where died she? Sec. Mess In Sicyon: Her length of sickness, with what else more serious Importeth thee to know, this bears. [Gives a letter. Ant.

Forbear me.

[Exit Sec. Messenger. There's a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it: What our contempt doth often hurl from us, We wish it ours again; the present pleasure, By revolution lowering, does become The opposite of itself: she's good, being gone:

The hand could pluck her back that shoved her on.
I must from this enchanting queen break off:
Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know,
My idlencss doth hatch. How now! Enobarbus!

Eno. What's your pleasure, sir?
Ant. I must with baste from hence.

Eno. Why, then, we kill all our women: we see how mortal an unkindness is to them; if they suffer our departure, death's the word. Ant. I must be gone.

140 Eno. Under a compelling occasion, let women die: it were pity to cast them away for nothing; though, between them and a great cause, they should be esteemed nothing. Cleopatra, catching but the least noise of this, dies instant. ly; I have seen her die twenty times upon far poorer moment: I do think there is mettle in death, which com. mits some loving act upon her, she hath such a celerity in dying. Ant. She is cunning past man's thought.

150 Eno. Alack, sir, no; ber passions are made of nothing

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but the finest part of pure love: we cannot call her winds and waters sighs and tears; they are greater storms and tempests than almapacs can report: this cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a shower of rain as well as Jore.

Ant. Would I had never seen her! Eno. 0, sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful pieco of work; which not to have been blest withal would have discredited your travel.

Ant. Fulvia is dead.
Eno. Sir?
Ant. Fulvia is dead.
Eno. Fulvia!
Ant. Dead.

Eno. Why, sir, give the gods a thankful sacrifice. When it pleaseth their deities to take the wife of a man from liim, 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.

179 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 leave 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
Petition us at home: Sextus Pompeius

Hath given the dare to Cæsar, and commands
(The empire of the sea: our slippery people,
Whose love is never link'd to the deserver
Till his deserts are past, begin to throw
Pompey the Great and all his dignities
Upon his son; who, high in name and power,
Higher than both in blood and life, stands up
For the main soldier: whose quality, going on,
The sides o’the world may danger: much is breeding,
Which, like the courser's hair, hath yet but life, 200
And not a serpent's poison. Say, our pleasure,
To such whose place is under us, requires

Our quick remove from hence.

Eno. I shall do't.



The same. Another room.
Cleo. Where is he?

I did not see him since.
Cleo. See where he is, who's with him, what he does:
I did not send you: if you find him sad,
Say I am dancing; if in mirth, report
That I am sudden sick: quick, and return. [Erit Alexas.

Char. Madam, methinks, if you did love him dearly,
You do not hold the method to enforce
The like from him.

What should I do, I do not?
Char. In each thing give him way, cross him in nothing
Cleo. Thou teachest like a fool; the way to lose him. 10

Char. Tempt him not so too far; I wish, forbear:
In time we hate that which we often fear.
But here comes Antony.


'I am sick and sullen.
Ant. I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose, –

Cleo. Help me away, dear Charmian; I shall fall:
It cannot be thus long, the sides of nature
Will not sustain it.

Now, my dearest queen,-
Cleo. Pray you, stand farther 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:

Would she had never given you leave to come!
Let hier not say 'tis I that keep you here:
I have no power upon you; hers you are.

Ant. The gods best know,-

0, never was there queen
So mightily betray'd! yet at the first
I saw the treasons planted.

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,

30 Which break themselves in swearing!


Most sweet queen,-
Cleo. Nay, pray you, scek no colour for your going,
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; nove our parts so poor,
But was a race of heaven: they are so still,
Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world,
Art turn'd the greatest liar.

How now, lady!
Cleo. I would I had thy inches; thou shouldst know 40
There were a heart in Egypt.

Hear me, queen:
The strong necessity of time commands
Our services awhile; but my full heart
Remains in use with you. Our Italy
Shines o'er with civil swords: Sextus Pompeius
Makes his approaches to the port of Rome:
Equality of two domestic powers
Breed scrupulous faction: the hated, grown to strength,
Are newly grown to love: the condemn’d Pompey,
Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace

Into the hearts of such as have not thrived
Upon the present state, whose numbers threaten;
And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge
By any desperate change: my more particular,
And that which most with you should safe my going,
Is Fulvia's death.

Cleo. Though age from folly could not give me freedom,
It does from childishness: can Fulvia die?

Ant. She's dead, my queen:
Look here, and at thy sovereign leisure read

The garboils she awaked; at the last, best:
Sec when and where she died.

O most false love!
Where be the sacred vials thou shouldst fill
With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see,
In Fulvia's death, how mine received shall be.

Ant. Quarrel no more, but be prepared to know
The purposes I bear; which are, or cease,
As you shall give the advice. By the fire
That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence
Thy soldier, servant; making peace or war

As thou affect'st.

Cut my lace. Charmian, come;
But let it be: I am quickly ill, and well,
So Intony loves



My precious queen, forbear;
And give truc evidence to his love, which stands
An honourable trial.

So Fulvia told me.
I prithee, turn aside and weep for her;
Then bid adieu to me, and say the tears
Belong to Egypt: good now, play one scene
Of excellent dissembling; and let it look
Like perfect honour.

You'll heat my blood: no more. 80
Cleo. You can do better yet; but this is meetly.
Ant. Now, by my sword, -

And target. Still he mends;
But this is not the best. Look, prithee, Charmian,
How this Herculean Roman does become
The carriage of his chafe.

Ant. I'll leave you, lady.

Courteous lord, one word.
Sir, you and I must part, but that's not it:
Sir, you and I have loved, but there's not it;
That you know well: something it is I would, -
0, my oblivion is a very Antony,

90 And I am all forgotten. Ant.

But that your royalty
Holds idleness your subject, I should take you
For idleness itself.

'Tis sweating labour
To bear such idleness so near the heart
As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me;
Since my becomings kill me, when they do not
Eye well to you: your honour calls you hence;
Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly,
And all the gods go with you! upon your sword
Sit laurel victory! and smooth success

100 Be strew'd before your feet! Ant.

Let us go. Come;
Our separation so abides, and flies,
That thou, residing here, go'st yet with me,
And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee.


SCENE IV. Rome. Cæsar's house. Enter Octavius CÆSAR, readiny a letter, LEPIDUS, and

their Train. Cæs You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know, It is not Carsar's natural vice to hato

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