Have power to utter. O, then we bring forth weeds,
When our quick minds lie still; and our ills told us
Is as our earing. Fare thee well awhile.
Messenger At your noble pleasure.
Exit
MARK ANTONY From Sicyon, ho, the news! Speak there!
First Attendant The man from Sicyon,–is there such an one?
Second Attendant He stays upon your will.
MARK ANTONY Let him appear.
These strong Egyptian fetters I must break,
Or lose myself in dotage.
Enter another Messenger
What are you?
Second Messenger Fulvia thy wife is dead.
MARK ANTONY Where died she?
Second Messenger In Sicyon:
Her length of sickness, with what else more serious
Importeth thee to know, this bears.
Gives a letter
MARK ANTONY Forbear me.
Exit Second Messenger
There’s a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it:
What our contempt doth often hurl from us,
We wish it ours again; the present pleasure,
By revolution lowering, does become
The opposite of itself: she’s good, being gone;
The hand could pluck her back that shoved her on.
I must from this enchanting queen break off:
Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know,
My idleness doth hatch. How now! Enobarbus!
Re-enter DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS
DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS What’s your pleasure, sir?
MARK ANTONY I must with haste from hence.
DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Why, then, we kill all our women:
we see how mortal an unkindness is to them;
if they suffer our departure, death’s the word.
MARK ANTONY I must be gone.
DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS 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.
MARK ANTONY She is cunning past man’s thought.
Exit ALEXAS
DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS 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.
MARK ANTONY Would I had never seen her.
DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS O, sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece
of work; which not to have been blest withal would
have discredited your travel.
MARK ANTONY Fulvia is dead.
DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Sir?
MARK ANTONY Fulvia is dead.
DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS Fulvia!
MARK ANTONY Dead.
DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS 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.
MARK ANTONY The business she hath broached in the state
Cannot endure my absence.
DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS And the business you have broached here cannot be
without you; especially that of Cleopatra’s, which
wholly depends on your abode.
MARK ANTONY 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,
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 Caesar, 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.
DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS I shall do’t.
Exeunt
Scene 3
The same. Another room.
Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS
CLEOPATRA Where is he?
CHARMIAN I did not see him since.
CLEOPATRA 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 ALEXAS
CHARMIAN Madam, methinks, if you did love him dearly,
You do not hold the method to enforce
The like from him.
CLEOPATRA What should I do, I do not?
CHARMIAN In each thing give him way, cross him nothing.
CLEOPATRA Thou teachest like a fool; the way to lose him.
CHARMIAN Tempt him not so too far; I wish, forbear:
In time we hate that which we often fear.
But here comes Antony.
Enter MARK ANTONY
CLEOPATRA I am sick and sullen.
MARK ANTONY I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose,–
CLEOPATRA Help me away, dear Charmian; I shall fall:
It cannot be thus long, the sides of nature
Will not sustain it.
MARK ANTONY Now, my dearest queen,–
CLEOPATRA Pray you, stand further from me.
MARK ANTONY What’s the matter?
CLEOPATRA 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 ’tis I that keep you here:
I have no power upon you; hers you are.
MARK ANTONY The gods best know,–
CLEOPATRA O, never was there queen
So mightily betray’d! yet at the first
I saw the treasons planted.
MARK ANTONY Cleopatra,–
CLEOPATRA 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!
MARK ANTONY Most sweet queen,–
CLEOPATRA 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.
MARK ANTONY How now, lady!
CLEOPATRA I would I had thy inches; thou shouldst know
There were a heart in Egypt.
MARK ANTONY 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 thrived
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.
CLEOPATRA Though age from folly could not give me freedom,
It does from childishness: can Fulvia die?
MARK ANTONY She’s dead, my queen:
Look here, and at thy sovereign leisure read
The garboils she awaked; at the last, best:
See when and where she died.
CLEOPATRA 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 received shall be.
MARK ANTONY Quarrel no more, but be prepared 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.
CLEOPATRA Cut my lace, Charmian, come;
But let it be: I am quickly ill, and well,
So Antony loves.
MARK ANTONY My precious queen, forbear;
And give true evidence to his love, which stands
An honourable trial.
CLEOPATRA So Fulvia told me.
I prithee, turn aside and weep for her,
Then bid adieu to me, and say the tears
Belong to Egypt: good now, play one scene
Of excellent dissembling; and let it look
Life perfect honour.
MARK ANTONY You’ll heat my blood: no more.
CLEOPATRA You can do better yet; but this is meetly.
MARK ANTONY Now, by my sword,–
CLEOPATRA And target. Still he mends;
But this is not the best. Look, prithee, Charmian,
How this Herculean Roman does become