be without you; especially that of Cleopatra's, which wholly depends on your abode. Ant. No more light answers. Let our officers

180

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 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.

Scene III.

The same. Another room.

190

[Exeunt.

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 Alexas.
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. 10
Char. Tempt him not so too far; I wish, forbear:

In time we hate that which we often fear.
But here comes Antony.

Cleo.

Enter Antony.

I am sick and sullen.

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,

What's the matter?

Cleo. Pray you, stand farther from me.

Ant.

Cleo. I know, by that same eye, there's some good news.

What says the married woman? You may go: 20
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.

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!

30

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,

Ant.

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.

How now, lady!

Cleo. I would I had thy inches; thou shouldst know 40 There were a heart in Egypt.

Ant.

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

50

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,