Enter ENOBARBUS.

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.

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.
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 him, it shows to man the tailors of the earth; comforting therein, that when old robes are worn out, there are others 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; 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 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 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,
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.

[Exeunt

Char.

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.

[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.

Cleo. Thou teachest 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.

I am sick, and sullen,

But here comes Antony.

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 dearest

queen,

Cleo. Pray you, stand further from me.
Ant.

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.

6 Look as if I did not send you.

Ant. The gods best know,
Cleo.
So mightily betray'd! Yet, at the first,
I saw the treasons planted.

O, never was there queen

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!
Most sweet queen,

Ant.

Cleo. Nay, pray you, seek 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'; none 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.

Ant.

How now, lady!

Cleo. I would, I had thy inches; thou should'st

know,

There were a heart in Egypt.

Hear me, queen:

Ant.
The strong necessity of time commands

Our services a while; 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 domestick powers

Breeds 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 thriv'd

7 The arch of our eye-brows.

Smack or flavour 9 Gate.

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 awak'd'; at the last, best:
See, when, and where she died.

Cleo.
O most false love!
Where be the sacred vials thou should'st fill
With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see,
In Fulvia's death, how mine receiv'd shall be.
Ant. Quarrel no more, but be prepar'd to know
The purposes I bear; which are, or cease,
As you shall give the advice: Now, by the fire,
That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence,
Thy soldier, servant; making peace, or war,
As thou affect'st.

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'y thee, 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.

Ant.

You'll heat my blood; no more, Cleo. You can do better yet; but this is meetly.

I The commotion she occasioned.
2 To me, the Queen of Egypt.