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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 almanacks 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 bless'd 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 crown'd 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 broach'd 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 breed
ing, 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.
Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Aleras,
I did not see him since.
[Exit Aler. 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
him. Char: Tempt him not so too far: I wish, for
bear; n time we hate that which we often fear.
I am sick, and sullen.
pose, Cleo. Help me away, dear Charmian, I shall
Now, my dearest queen,-
What's the matter? Cleo. I know, by that same eye, there's some
good news. What says
the married woman?—You may go; ;
'Would, she had never given you leave to come!
you are. Ant. The gods best know,Cleo.
O, never was there queen
Though you in swearing shake the throned gods,
Most sweet queen, —
How now, lady!
Hear me, queen:
Shines o'er with civil swords: Sextus Pompeius
Ant. She's dead, my queen:
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: Now, 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: