Most sweet queen,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.

How now, lady!

Ant. Cleo. I would I had thy inches; thou shouldst know

There were a heart in Egypt.

Ant. Hear me, queen: 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 domestic 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
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 shouldst 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: 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 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.

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
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.
Away!

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-Rome. An Apartment in CESAR'S House.

Enter OCTAVIUS CESAR, LEPIDUS, and Attendants. Ces. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know,

It is not Cæsar's natural vice to hate
One great competitor: from Alexandria
This is the news: He fishes, drinks, and wastes
The lamps of night in revel: is not more manlike
Than Cleopatra; nor the queen of Ptolemy
More womanly than he hardly gave audience,
Or vouchsaf'd to think he had partners: You shall
find there

A man who is the abstract of all faults
That all men follow.

Lep.

I must not think there are Evils enow to darken all his goodness: His faults, in him, seem as the spots of heaven, More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary, Rather than purchas'd; what he cannot change, Than what he chooses.

Cæs. You are too indulgent: Let's grant it is not Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy;

To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit
And keep the turn of tippling with a slave;
To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet
With knaves that smell of sweat; say, this becomes
him,

(As his composure must be rare indeed
Whom these things cannot blemish,) yet must

Antony

No way excuse his soils, when we do bear
So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd
His vacancy with his voluptuousness,

Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones,

Call on him for't: but, to confound such time, That drums him from his sport, and speaks as

loud

[Gives a letter. Forbear me.[Exit Messenger.

There's a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it:
What our contempts do 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 shov'd her on.
I must from this enchanting queen break off;
Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know,
My idleness doth hatch.-How now! Enobarbus!
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: 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 pure 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.

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 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

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 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.

SCENE III.

[Exeunt.

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 :-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.

Ant.

Cleo. I would I had thy inches; thou shouldst know

There were a heart in Egypt.

Ant.
Hear me, queen:
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 domestic 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
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 shouldst 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: 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.

'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
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.
Away!

[Exeunt.

Enter OCTAVIUS CESAR, LEPIDUS, and Attendants. Ces. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know,

It is not Cæsar's natural vice to hate
One great competitor: from Alexandria
This is the news: He fishes, drinks, and wastes
The lamps of night in revel: is not more manlike
Than Cleopatra; nor the queen of Ptolemy
More womanly than he hardly gave audience,
Or vouchsaf'd to think he had partners: You shall
find there

A man who is the abstract of all faults
That all men follow.

Lep.
I must not think there are
Evils enow to darken all his goodness:
His faults, in him, seem as the spots of heaven,
More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary,
Rather than purchas'd; what he cannot change,
Than what he chooses.

Cas. You are too indulgent: Let's grant it is not Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy;

To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit
And keep the turn of tippling with a slave;
To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet
With knaves that smell of sweat; say, this becomes
him,

(As his composure must be rare indeed
Whom these things cannot blemish,) yet must

Antony

No way excuse his soils, when we do bear
So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd
His vacancy with his voluptuousness,

Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones,

Call on him for't: but, to confound such time,

That drums him from his sport, and speaks as

loud

Mess. Thy biddings have been done; and every hour,

Most noble Cæsar, shalt thou have report
How't is abroad. Pompey is strong at sea;
And it appears he is belov'd of those
That only have fear'd Cæsar: to the ports
The discontents repair, and men's reports
Give him much wrong'd.

Cæs.
I should have known no less :-
It hath been taught us from the primal state,
That he which is was wish'd, until he were :
And the ebb'd man, ne'er lov'd till ne'er worth
love,

Comes dear'd by being lack'd. This common body,

Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream,
Goes to, and back, lackeying the varying tide,
To rot itself with motion.

Mess.
Cæsar, I bring thee word,
Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates,
Make the sea serve them; which they ear and
wound

With keels of every kind: Many hot inroads
They make in Italy; the borders maritime
Lack blood to think on't, and flush youth revolt:
No vessel can peep forth but 'tis as soon

Taken as seen; for Pompey's name strikes more
Than could his war resisted.

Antony,

Cæs.
Leave thy lascivious vassals. When thou once
Wast beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st
Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel
Did famine follow; whom thou fought'st against,
Though daintily brought up, with patience more
Than savages could suffer: Thou didst drink
The stale of horses, and the gilded puddle
Which beasts would cough at: thy palate then did
deign

The roughest berry on the rudest hedge;
Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets,
The barks of trees thou browsed'st; on the Alps
It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh,
Which some did die to look on: And all this
(It wounds thine honour that I speak it now)
Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek
So much as lank'd not.

Cleo.

O Charmian, Where thinkst thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he?

Or does he walk? or is he on his horse?
O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony!
Do bravely, horse! for wot'st thou whom thou
mov'st?

The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm
And burgonet of men.-He's speaking now,
Or murmuring, "Where's my serpent of old Nile ?"
For so he calls me: Now I feed myself
With most delicious poison:-Think on me,
That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black,
And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Cæsar,
When thou wast here above the ground, I was
A morsel for a monarch: and great Pompey
Would stand, and make his eyes grow in my brow:
There would he anchor his aspect, and die
With looking on his life.

Alex.

Enter ALEXAS.

Sovereign of Egypt, hail! Cleo. How much unlike art thou Mark Antony! Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath With his tinct gilded thee.

How goes it with my brave Mark Antony?
Alex. Last thing he did, dear queen,
He kiss'd, the last of many doubled kisses,-
This orient pearl :-His speech sticks in my heart.
Cleo. Mine ear must pluck it thence.
Alex.
Good friend, quoth he,
Say, "The firm Roman to great Egypt sends
This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot,
To mend the petty present, I will piece
Her opulent throne with kingdoms: All the east,"
Say thou, "shall call her mistress." So he nodded,
And soberly did mount an arrogant steed,
Who neigh'd so high, that what I would have spoke
Was beastly dumb'd by him.

Cleo.

What, was he sad, or merry? Alex. Like to the time o' the year between the

extremes

Cæs.

Doubt not, sir;

I knew it for my bond.

[Exeunt.

Of hot and cold: he was nor sad nor merry.