Enter another Messenger. Or lose myself in dotage.-What are you? 2 Mess. In Sicyon: Where died she? Her length of sickness, with what else more serious Ant. There's a great spirit gone! thus did I desire it. The opposite of itself: she's good, being gone; Eno. What's your pleasure, sir? Ant. I must with haste 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. 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 instantly: I have seen her die twenty times upon far poorer moment. I do think there is mettle in death, which commits some loving act upon her, she hath such a celerity in dying. Ant. She is cunning past man's thought. Eno. Alack, sir, no; her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of true love. We cannot call her winds and waters, sighs and tears; they are greater storms and tempests than almanacs 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 Which, like the courser's hair, hath yet but life, And not a To such whose place is under us, requires Our quick remove from hence. 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. B 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 [Exit ALEX. Char. Madam, methinks, if you did love him dearly, Cleo. Enter ANTONY. I am sick and sullen. But here comes Antony. Cleo. 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. Ant. Now, my dearest 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; 'Would she had never given you leave to come! Let her not say 'tis I that keep you here; I have no power upon you; hers you are. Ant. The gods best know,Cleo. O, never was there queen So mightily betrayed! 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 color 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; none our parts so poor, Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world, Ant. How now, lady! Ant. Hear me, queen; The strong necessity of time commands Our services awhile; but my full heart Shines o'er with civil swords. Sextus Pompeius Breeds scrupulous faction: the hated, grown to strength, Into the hearts of such as have not thrived 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 Cleo. In Fulvia's death, how mine received shall be. Cleo. Cut my lace, Charmian, come; But let it be. I am quickly ill, and well; - So Antony loves. Ant. And give true evidence to his love, which stands My precious queen, forbear; An honorable trial. Cleo. So Fulvia told me. I pr'ythee, turn aside, and weep for her; Then bid adieu to me, and say, the tears Belong to Egypt. Good now, play one scene Ant. You'll heat my blood; no more. And target,-Still he mends; Cleo. You can do better yet; but this is meetly. Cleo. But this is not the best. Look, pr'ythee, Charmian, 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; And I am all forgotten. Ant. But that your royalty Holds idleness your subject, I should take you For idleness itself. Cleo. 'Tis sweating labor, To bear such idleness so near the heart As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me; And all the gods go with you! Upon your sword Be strewed before your feet! Ant. Let us go. Come; Our separation so abides, and flies, That thou, residing here, go'st yet with me, [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Rome. An Apartment in Cæsar's House. Enter OCTAVIUS CESAR, LEPIDUS, and Attendants. Cæs. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know, It is not Cæsar's natural vice to hate Our great competitor. From Alexandria |