Upon the first encounter, drave them.
Ant.

Well, what worst? Mess. The nature of bad news infects the teller. 99

Ant. When it concerns the fool or coward. On: Things that are past are done with me. 'Tis thus; Who tells me true, though in his tale lie death, I hear him as he flatter'd. Labienus

Mess.
This is stiff news-hath, with his Parthian force,
Extended Asia from Euphrates;

His conquering banner shook from Syria
To Lydia and to Ionia;

Whilst

Ant. Antony, thou wouldst say,-
Mess.

O, my lord! Ant. Speak to me home, mince not the general tongue:

Name Cleopatra as she is call'd in Rome;
Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase; and taunt my faults
With such full license as both truth and malice
Have power to utter. O, then we bring forth
weeds,

When our quick minds lie still; and our ills told us

Is as our earing. Fare thee well awhile.
Mess. At your noble pleasure.
Ant. From Sicyon, ho, the news!
there!

[Exit. Speak First Att. The man from Sicyon,-is there such an one?

Sec. Att. He stays upon your will.

Ant.
Let him appear.
These strong Egyptian fetters I must break, 120
Or lose myself in dotage.

Enter another Messenger.
What are you?
Where died she?

Sec. Mess. Fulvia thy wife is dead.
Ant.

Sec. Mess. In Sicyon: Her length of sickness, with what else more serious

Importeth thee to know, this bears.

[Gives a letter. Forbear me. [Exit Sec. Messenger. Thus did I de

Ant. There's a great spirit gone! sire it:

129

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 idleness doth hatch. How now! Enobarbus!
Re-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.

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 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. 150 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 blest withal would have discredited your travel. Ant. Fulvia is 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.

179

Eno. And the business you have broached here cannot be without you; especially that of Cleopatra's, which wholly depends on your abode.

190

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,

199

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.

SCENE III. The same. Another room. Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAs, and ALEXAS.

Cleo. Where is he?

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 Alexas.
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.

ΙΟ

Ant.

Now, my dearest queen,Cleo. Pray you, stand farther 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: 20
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,-
Clev.

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

Cleopatra,

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 60
The garboils she awaked; 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 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.

Cleo.

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

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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.

80

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

Ant. Now, by my sword,-
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.

124

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,-
O, my oblivion is a very Antony,
And I am all forgotten.
Ant...
But that your royalty
Holds idleness your subject, I should take you
For idleness itself.

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,

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.

30

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.

39

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,
tAnd soberly did mount an arm-gaunt 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? 50
Alex. Like to the time o' the year between
the extremes

Of hot and cold, he was nor sad nor merry.
Cleo. O well-divided disposition! Note him,
Note him, good Charmian, 'tis the man; but
note him:

He was not sad, for he would shine on those
That make their looks by his; he was not merry,
Which seem'd to tell them his remembrance lay
In Egypt with his joy; but between both:
O heavenly mingle! Be'st thou sad or merry,
The violence of either thee becomes,

60

That what they do delay, they not deny.

Pom. Whiles we are suitors to their throne, decays The thing we sue for.

Mene.

II

We, ignorant of ourselves, Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers Deny us for our good; so find we profit By losing of our prayers. Pom. I shall do well: The people love me, and the sea is mine; My powers are crescent, and my auguring hope Says it will come to the full. Mark Antony In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make No wars without doors: Cæsar gets money where He loses hearts: Lepidus flatters both, Of both is flatter'd; but he neither loves, Nor either cares for him. Cæsar and Lepidus Are in the field: a mighty strength they carry. Pom. Where have you this? 'tis false. Men. From Silvius, sir. Pom. He dreams: I know they are in Rome together,

Men.

21

Looking for Antony. But all the charms of love,
Salt Cleopatra, soften thy waned lip!
Let witchcraft join with beauty, lust with both!
Tie up the libertine in a field of feasts,
Keep his brain fuming; Epicurean cooks
Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite;
That sleep and feeding may prorogue his honour
Even till a Lethe'd dulness!

Enter VARRIUS.

How now, Varrius! Var. This is most certain that I shall deliver:

Mark Antony is every hour in Rome
Expected: since he went from Egypt 'tis
A space for further travel.
Pom.

30

I could have given less matter
A better ear. Menas, I did not think
This amorous surfeiter would have donn'd his
helm

For such a petty war: his soldiership
Is twice the other twain: but let us rear
The higher our opinion, that our stirring
Can from the lap of Egypt's widow pluck
The ne'er-lust-wearied Antony.

Men.
cannot hope
Cæsar and Antony shall well greet together:
His wife that's dead did trespasses to Cæsar;
His brother warr'd upon him; although, I think,
Not moved by Antony.

Pom. I know not, Menas, How lesser enmities may give way to greater. Were't not that we stand up against them all, "Twere pregnant they should square between themselves;

For they have entertained cause enough
To draw their swords: but how the fear of us
May cement their divisions and bind up
The petty difference, we yet not know.
Be't as our gods will have't! It only stands
Our lives upon to use our strongest hands.
Come, Menas.

50

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. Rome. The house of Lepidus.

Enter ENOBARBUS and Lepidus.

Lep. Good Enobarbus, 'tis a worthy deed, And shall become you well, to entreat your captain

To soft and gentle speech.

Eno.

I shall entreat him To answer like himself: if Cæsar move him, Let Antony look over Cæsar's head

And speak as loud as Mars. By Jupiter,
Were I the wearer of Antonius' beard,
I would not shave't to-day.

Lep.

'Tis not a time

For private stomaching.

Eno.

Every time

Serves for the matter that is then born in 't.

ΙΟ

yours;

way.

Eno. Not if the small come first.
Lep.

Your speech is passion: But, pray you, stir no embers up. Here comes

The noble Antony.

Not so, not so; I know you could not lack, I am certain on 't, Very necessity of this thought, that I, Your partner in the cause 'gainst which he fought, Could not with graceful eyes attend those wars 60 Which fronted mine own peace. As for my wife, I would you had her spirit in such another : The third o' the world is yours; which with a snaffle

You may pace easy, but not such a wife.

Eno. Would we had all such wives, that the men might go to wars with the women!

Ant. So much uncurbable, her garboils,
Cæsar,

Made out of her impatience, which not wanted
Shrewdness of policy too, I grieving grant
Did you too much disquiet: for that you must
But say, I could not help it.
Cæs.
I wrote to you
When rioting in Alexandria; you

70