I hear him as he flatter'd. Mef. Labienus (this is ftiff news) Hath, with his Parthian force, extended Afia, Whilft Ant. Antony, thou wouldst fay Ant. Speak to me home, mince not the general Mef. At your noble pleasure. [Exit. Ant. From Sicyon how the news? Speak there. 1 Att. The man from Sicyon.-Is there fuch an one? 2 Att. He stays upon your will. Ant. Let him appear. Thefe ftrong Ægyptian fetters I must break, Enter a fecond Messenger. Or lose myself in dotage. What are you? 2 Mef. Fulvia thy wife is dead. Ant. Where died fhe? 2 Mef. In Sicyon: Her length of fickness, with what else more ferious Importeth thee to know, this bears: [Gives a letter. Ant. Forbear me. [Exit Meffenger. There's a great spirit gone! Thus did I defire it: B The The oppofite of itfelf; fhe's good, being gone; 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 fuffer 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 cause, 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 almanacks can report: this cannot be cunning in her; if it be, fhe makes a thower of rain as well as Jove. Ant. 'Would I had never feen her! Eno. O, fir, you had then left unfeen a wonderful piece of work; which not to have been bleft withal, would have difcredited your travel. Ant. Fulvia is dead. Eno. Sir! Ant. 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 fhould water this forrow. Ant. The business fhe hath broached in the ftate, Cannot endure my abfence. Eno. And the bufinefs you have broach'd here cannot be without you; especially that of Cleopatra's which wholly depends on your abode. Ant. No more light anfwers. Let our officers B 2 The The fides o'the world may danger: Much is breeding, Eno. I fhall do't. [Exeunt, SCENE III. Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS. 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 fad, The like from him. Cleo. What fhould I do, I do not? Char. In each thing give him way, cross him in nothing. 4 Cleo. Thou teacheft like a fool: the way to lose him, Char. Tempt him not fo too far: I wish, forbear; In time we hate that which we often fear. Enter ANTONY. 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 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; Cleo. O, never was there queen So mightily betray'd! Yet, at the firft, Ant. Cleopatra {.. Cleo. Why should 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. Molt fweet queen Cleo. Nay, pray you, feek no colour for your going Blifs in our brows' bent; none our parts fo poor, Art turn'd the greatest liar. Ant. How now, lady! Cleo. I would I had thy inches; thou shouldst know, There were a heart in Ægypt. Ant. Hear me, queen: The ftrong neceffity of time commands B 3 Our |