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. But here comes Antony. Cleo I am sick, and sullen. Ant. I am sorry to give breathing to my pur pose, 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, What's the matter? Cleo. Pray you, stand further from me. Ant. Cleo. I know, by that same eye, there's some good news. What says the married woman?-You may go; Cleo. O, never was there queen So mightily betray'd! Yet, at the first, Cleo. Why should I think, you can be mine, and true, Though you in swearing shake the throned gods, Ant. Most sweet queen,— 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, 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 should'st 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, Into the hearts of such as have not thriv'd 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 O most false love! Cleo. As Cleo. But let it be. I am quickly ill, and well: So Antony loves. Ant. Cut my lace, Charmian, come; My precious queen, forbear; And give true evidence to his love, which stands Cleo. So Fulvia told me. I pr'ythee, turn aside, and weep for her; 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, pr'ythee, 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 you Holds idleness your subject, I should take Cleo. 'Tis 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 And all the gods go with you! upon your sword Be strew'd before your feet! Ant. Let us go. Come; Our separation so abides, and flies, That thou, residing here, go'st yet with me, And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee. [Exeunt. |