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I must from this enchanting queen break off;
Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know,
My idleness doth hatch.-How now! Enobarbus!

Eno. What's your pleasure, fir?

Ant. I muft with hafte from hence.

Eno. Why, then we kill all our women: we fee 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 occafion let women die: it were pity to caft them away for nothing; though, between them and a great caufe, they fhould be efteem'd nothing. Cleopatra, catching but the leaft noife of this, dies inftantly; I have feen her die twenty times upon far poorer moment; I do think there is mettle in death, which commits fome loving act upon her, the hath fuch a celerity in dying.

Ant. She is cunning paft man's thought.

Eno. Alack, fir, no; her paffions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love: we cannot call her winds and waters fighs and tears; they are greater ftorms and tempefts than almanacs can report: this cannot be cunning in her; if it be, fhe makes a fhower of rain as well as Jove.

Ant. 'Would I had never feen her!

Eno. O, fir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece of work; which not to have been bleft withal would have difcredited your travel.

Ant. Fulvia is dead.
Eno. Sir!

Ant. Fulvia is dead.
Eno. Fulvia?

Ant. Dead,

Eno. Why, fir, give the gods a thankful facrifice. When it pleaseth their deities to take the wife of a man from him, it fhews 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 cafe to be lamented this grief is crown'd with confolation; your old fmock brings forth a new petticoat; - and, indeed, the tears live in an onion that should water this forrow.

Ant. The business she hath broach'd in the state Cannot endure my abfence.

Eno. And the business you have broached here cannot be without you; efpecially 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 love 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 Cæfar, and commands
The empire of the fea: our flippery people
(Whose love is never link'd to the deferver
'Till his deferts are paft) begin to throw
Pompey the great, and all his dignities,
Upon his fon; who, high in name and power,
Higher than both in blood and life, ftands up
For the main foldier; whofe quality, going on,
The fides o'the world may danger: Much is breeding,
Which, like the courfer's hair, hath yet but life,
And not a ferpent's poifon. Say, our pleasure
To fuch whofe place is under us, requires
Our quick remove from hence.

Eno. I fhall do't.

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Cleo. Where is he?

Char. I did not fee him fince.

Cleo. See where he is, who's with him, what he does:

I did not fend you ;-if you find him sad,




Say I am dancing; if in mirth, report

That I am fudden fick: 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 fhould I do, I do not?

Char. In each thing give him way, cross him in nothing. Cleo. Thou teacheft like a fool: the way to lose him. Char. Tempt him not so too far: I with, forbear; In time we hate that which we often fear.


But here comes Antony.

Cleo. I am fick and fullen.

Ant. I am forry to give breathing to my purpose.Cleo. Help me away, dear Charmian, I fhall fall; It cannot be thus long, the fides of nature

Will not fuftain it.

Ant. Now, my deareft queen

Cleo. Pray you, ftand farther from me.

Ant. What's the matter?

Cleo. I know, by that fame eye, there's fome good news. What fays the marry'd woman?-You may go; 'Would he had never given you leave to come ! Let her not fay 'tis I that keep you here,

you are.

I have no power upon you; her's
Ant. The gods best know-
Cleo. O, never was there queen
So mightily betray'd! Yet, at the first,
I faw the treafons planted.

Ant. Cleopatra

Cleo. Why fhould I think you can be mine, and true,
Though you in fwearing fhake the throned gods,
Who have been falfe to Fulvia? Riotous madness,
To be entangled with those mouth-made vows
Which break themselves in fwearing!

Ant. Moft fweet queen

Cleo. Nay, pray you, feek no colour for your going, But bid farewell, and go: when you fu'd staying, Then was the time for word: No going then ;


Eternity was in our lips and eyes;

Blifs in our brows bent; none our parts fo poor,
But was a race of heaven: They are fo ftill,

Or thou, the greatest foldier of the world,

Art turn'd the greatest liar.

Ant. How now, lady!

Cleo. I would I had thy inches; thou should'st know There was a heart in Egypt.

Ant. Hear me, queen:

The ftrong neceffity of time commands

Our fervices a while; but my full heart

Remains in use with you. Our Italy

Shines o'er with civil fwords: Sextus Pompeius
Makes his approaches to the port of Rome:

Equality of two domeftic powers

Breeds fcrupulous faction: The hated, grown to ftrength,
Are newly grown to love: the condemn'd Pompey,
Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace

Into the hearts of fuch as have not thriv'd
Upon the prefent ftate, whofe numbers threaten;
And quietnefs, grown fick of reft, would purge
By any defperate change. My more particular,
And that which moft with you should fafe 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 fovereign leisure, read
The garboils fhe awak'd; at the laft, béft:
See when and where fhe died.

Cleo. O, moft falfe love!

Where be the facred vials thou should'ft fill
With forrowful water? Now I fee, I fee
In Fulvia's death how mine receiv'd fhall be.
Ant. Quarrel no more, but be prepar'd to know
The purposes I bear; which are, or ceafe,
As you thall give the advice: By the fire
That quickens Nilus' flime, I go from hence
Thy foldier, fervant; making peace, or war,
As thou affe&’A.


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

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 afide, and weep for her;
Then bid adieu to me, and fay the tears
Belong to Egypt: Good now, play one scene
Of excellent diffembling; and let it look
Like perfect honour.

Ant. You'll heat my blood: no more.

Clea. You can do better yet; but this is meetly.
Ant. Now, by my fword-

Cleo. 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.

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-
O, my oblivion is a very Antony,

And I am all-forgotten.

Ant. But that your royalty

Holds idleness your fubject, I fhould take you
For idlenefs itself.

Cleo. 'Tis fweating labour

To bear fuch idlenefs fo near the heart
As Cleopatra this. But, fir, 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 laurell'd victory! and smooth success
Be ftrew'd before your feet!

Ant. Let us go. Come;
Our feparation fo abides, and flies,


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