SCENE I.-Alexandria. A Room in CLEOPATRA'S Palace.

Enter DEMETRIUS and PHILO.

Phi. Nay, but this dotage of our general's O'erflows the measure; those his goodly eyes, That o'er the files and musters of the war Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now turn,

The office and devotion of their view
Upon a tawny front; his captain's heart,
Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst
The buckles on his breast, reneges all temper,
And is become the bellows and the fan
To cool a gipsy's lust. Look! where they come.
Flourish. Enter ANTONY and CLEOPATRA, with

their Trains; Eunuchs fanning her.
Take but good note, and you shall see in him 11
The triple pillar of the world transform'd
Into a strumpet's fool; behold and see.

Cleo. If it be love indeed, tell me how much. Ant. There's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd.

Cleo. I'll set a bourn how far to be belov'd. Ant. Then must thou needs find out new heaven, new earth.

Enter an Attendant.

Att. News, my good lord, from Rome.
Ant.

Grates me; the sum.

20

Cleo. Nay, hear them, Antony: Fulvia perchance is angry; or, who knows If the scarce-bearded Cæsar have not sent His powerful mandate to you, ' Do this, or this; Take in that kingdom, and enfranchise that; Perform 't, or else we damn thee.' Ant.

How, my love! Cleo. Perchance! nay, and most like; You must not stay here longer; your dismission Is come from Cæsar; therefore hear it, Antony. Where's Fulvia's process? Cæsar's I would say? both?

Call in the messengers. As I am Egypt's queen, Thou blushest, Antony, and that blood of thine Is Cæsar's homager; else so thy cheek pays shame When shrill-tongued Fulvia scolds. The mes

Cleo. He was dispos'd to mirth; but on the sudden

A Roman thought hath struck him. Enobarbus!

Eno. Madam !

Cleo. Seek him, and bring him hither. Where's Alexas?

Alex. Here, at your service. My lord approaches.

Enter ANTONY with a Messenger and Attendants. Cleo. We will not look upon him; go with us. Exeunt CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUS, ALEXAS, IRAS, CHARMIAN, Soothsayer, and Attendants.

Mess. Fulvia thy wife first came into the field.

Ant. Against my brother Lucius?
Mess. Ay:

But soon that war had end, and the time's state Made friends of them, jointing their force 'gainst Cæsar,

Whose better issue in the war, from Italy
Upon the first encounter drave them.

Ant.

101

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

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.

141

We

Eno. What's your pleasure, sir? Ant. I must with haste from hence. Eno. Why, then, we kill all our women. 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!

163

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.

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

130

Gives a letter.

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,

200

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-The Same.

210

Exeunt.

Another Room.

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

There were a heart in Egypt.

Ant. Hear me, queen; The strong necessity of time commands Our services awhile, 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

Breed 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 numbersthreaten;
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. By the fire
That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence
Thy soldier, servant, making peace or war 70
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.