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,
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.

Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAs, and ALEXAS. Cleo. Where is he?

Char.

I did not see him since.

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 ALEX.

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.

Char. Tempt him not so too far: I wish, forbear; In time we hate that which we often fear.

Enter ANTONY.

I am sick and sullen.

But here comes Antony.

Cleo.

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.

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;
'Would she had never given you leave to come!
Let her not say 't is I that keep you here,
I have no power upon you; hers you are.
Ant. The gods best know,—

Cleo.

O, never was there queen

So mightily betray'd! Yet, at the first,
I saw the treasons planted.

Ant.

Cleopatra,

Cleo. Why should I think you can be mine, and

true,

Though you in swearing shake the throned gods,
Who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous madness,
To be entangled with those mouth-made vows,
Which break themselves in swearing!

Most sweet queen,

Ant.
Cleo. Nay, pray you, seek no colour for your going,
But bid farewell, and go: when you sued staying,
Then was the time for words: No going then ;-
Eternity was in our lips and eyes;

Bliss in our brows' bent; none our parts so poor,
But was a race of heaven: They are so still,

Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world,
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 Egypt.

Hear me, queen:

Ant.
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 domestic 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 free. dom,

It does from childishness :-Can Fulvia die?
Ant. She 's dead, my queen:

b

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 shouldst 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
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.

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:a Good now, play one scene
Of excellent dissembling; and let it look
Like perfect honour.

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. Courteous lord, one word.

Sir, you and I must part,-but that 's not it:
Sir, you and I have lov'd,-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.

'T is 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 a Egypt the queen of Egypt.

Eye well to you: Your honour calls you hence;
Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly,
And all the gods go with you! Upon your sword
Sit laurel victory, and smooth success

Be strew'd before your feet!

Ant.

Let us go.

Our separation so abides, and flies,

Come:

That thou, residing here, go'st yet with me,
And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee.
Away!

[Exeunt. SCENE IV.-Rome. An Apartment in Cæsar's

House.

Enter OCTAVIUS CÆSAR, LEPIDUS, and Attendants. Cæs. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know, It is not Cæsar's natural vice to hate

One great competitor: from Alexandria

This is the news: He fishes, drinks, and wastes
The lamps of night in revel: is not more manlike
Than Cleopatra; nor the queen of Ptolemy
More womanly than he: hardly gave audience,
Or vouchsaf'd to think he had partners: You shall
find there

A man who is the abstract of all faults

That all men follow.

Lep.

I must not think there are
Evils enow to darken all his goodness:

His faults, in him, seem as the spots of heaven,
More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary,
Rather than purchas'd; what he cannot change,
Than what he chooses.

Cæs. You are too indulgent: Let's grant it is not Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy;

a Laurel. The use of the substantive adjectively was a pecu liarity of the poetry of Shakspere's time, which has been revived with advantage in our own day.