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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.
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 expediences 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,
3 The cause of our expedience -] Expedience for expedition.
And get her love to part.] i. e, and prevail on her love to cunsent to our separation.
more urgent touches,] Things that touch me more serisiply, more pressing motivene
Which, like the courser's hair, hath yet but life,
Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS.
Cleo. Where is he?
I did not see him since.
Exit Alex. Char. Madam, methinks, if you did love him
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
hiin. Char. Tempt him not so too far: I wish, forbear; In tiine we hate that which we often fear.
But here comes Antony.
the courser's hair, &c.] Alludes to an old idle notion that the hair of a horse dropt into corrupted water, will turn to an animal,
9 I did not send you ;] You must go as if you came without my order or knowledge.
I am sick, and sullen. Ant. I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose,
Cleo. Help me away, dear Charmian, I shall fall; It cannot be thus long, the sides of nature Will not sustain it. Ant.
What's the matter?
the married woman?-You may go;
Ant. The gods best know,-
0, never was there queen
Most sweet queen, Cleo. Nay, pray you, seek no colour for your going, But bid farewell, and go:
in our brows' bent;] i. e. in the arch of our eye-brows. - a race of heaven:) i. e. had a smack or flavour of heaven. VOL. VII.
How now, lady!
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 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 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
Ant. She's dead, my queen:
O most false love!
- should safe my going,] i. e. should render my going not dangerous, not likely to produce any mischief to you.
+ It does from childishness:--Can Fulvia die?] i. e. Though age has not exempted me from folly, I am not so childish, as to have apprehensions from a rival that is no more. And is Fulvia dead indeed?
* Thę garboils she awak'd;] i e. the commotion she occasioned. The word is derived from the old French garbouil, which Cotgreaye explains by hurlyburly, great stir.
Where be the sacred vials thou should'st fill
Ant. Quarrel no more, but be prepar'd to know
shall give the advice: Now, by the fire,
Cut my lace, Charmian, come;--
My precious queen, forbear;
So Fulvia told me.
You'll heat my blood; no more.
And target,-Still he mends;
6 0 most false love !
Where be the sacred vials thou should'st fill
With sorrowful water?] Alluding to the lachrymatory vials, or bottles of tears, which the Romans sometimes put into the urn of a friend.
? So Antony lotes.] i. e. uncertain as the state of my health is the love of Antony.
to Egypt:) To me, the Queen of Egypt.
Herculean Roman - ] Antony traced his descent from Anton, a son of Hercules,