Ant. When it concerns the Fool or Coward; on. Mes. Labienus, this is stiff News, Ant. Antony thou would'st say. • Mef. Oh, my Lord. Ant. Speak to me home, mince not the general Tongue, Name Cleopatra as she is call'd in Rome : Rail thou in Fulvia's Phrafe, and taunt my Faults Ant. From Scicion how the News? speak there. Ant. Let him appear; These strong Ægyptian Fetters I must break, 2 Mes. Fulvia thy Wife is dead. 2 Mes. In Scision, her length of Sickness With what else more serious, Importeth thee to know, this bears. Ant. Forbear me. There's a great Spirit gone, thus did I defire it, Enter Enter Enobarbus. Eno. What's your pleasure, Sir? Ant. I must with haste from hence. Eno. Why the we kill all our Women. We see how mortal an Uekinahefs is to them, if they soffer our depar ture, Death's the word. Ant. I must be gone. Eno. Under a compelling occafion, let women die. It were pity to cast them away for nothing, though between them and a great cause, they should be esteem'd 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 at 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: And yet they are greater Storms and Tempests than Almanacks can report. This cannot be cunning in her: if it be, the makes a Show'r of Rain as well as Jove. Ant. Would I had never seen her. Eno. Oh Sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful Piece of Work, which not to have been blest withal, would have discredited your Travel. Ant. Fulvia is dead Eno. Why Sir, give the Gods a thankful Sacrifice: when it pleafeth their Deities to take the Wife of a Man from him, it shews to Man the Tailors of the Earth: Comforting him 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 were to be lamented: This Grief is crowned with Confolation, your old Smock brings forth a new Petticoat, and indeed the Tears live in an Onion, that should water this Sorrow. Anta Ant. The Business she hath broach'd here in the State, Cannot endure my Abfence. Eno. And the Business you have broach'd here cannot be without you, especially that of Cleopatra's, which wholly depends on your Aboad. ३ Ant. No more like Answers: Let our Officers Eno. I shall do't. : : [Exeunt. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Alexas, and Iras. Cleo. Where is he? Char. I did not fee him fince. Cleo. See where he is, who's with him, what he do's: I did not fend you. If you find him fad, Say I am dancing: if in Mirth, report That I am fudden fick. Quickly, and return. 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. Char. Char. Tempt him not, fo, too far. I wish, forbear, Intime we hate that which we often fear. Enter Antony. But here comes Antony. Cleo. I am Sick, and sullen. Ant. I am forry to give Breathing to my purpose. It cannot be thus long, the fides of Nature [Seeming to faine. 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 marry'd Woman? you may go; Cleo. Oh never was there Queen Ant. Cleopatra. Cleo. Why should I think you can be mine, and true, Cleo. Nay pray you seek no colour for your going, Bliss in our Brows bent, none our Parts so poor, Or thou the greatest Soldier of the World, Art turn'd the greater Liar. Ant. How now, Lady? 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 ८ : Our Our fervices awhile; but my full Heart Equality of two Domestick Pow'rs, Breed scrupulous Faction; the hated, grown to Strength, Cleo. Though Age from Folly could not give me freedom, It does from Childishness. Can Fulvia die? Ant. She's dead, my Queen, Cleo. O most false Love! Where be the sacred Viols thou should'st fill Ant. Quarrel no more, but be prepar'd to know Cles. Cut my Lace, Charmian, come, Ant. My precious Queen forbear, Cleo. So Fulvia told me. I prethee turn aside, and weep for her, |