« PreviousContinue »
I did not send you -[To Iras.]—If you find him sad,
Enter ANroN Y.
But here comes Antony.
C/co. 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!
Ant. Most sweet queen,
Cleo. Nay, pray you, seek no colour for your going; But bid farewell, and go: when you su'd 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, Artturn'd the greatest liar.
Ant. How now, lady?
Cleo. I would I had thy inches; thou shouldst know, 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 Breeds scrupulous faction: The hated, grown to
strength, Are newly grown to love: the condemned 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 freedom, It does from childishness: Can Fulvia die ?
Ant. She's dead, my queen:
Cleo. O most false love!
Ant. Quarrel no more, but be prepared to know
Cleo. Cut my lace, Charmian, come;—
Ant. My precious queen, forbear;
Cleo. So Fulvia told me.
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:
Ant. But that your royalty
Cleo. Tis sweating labour,
Ant. Let us go. Come;
Enter Octavius Caesar, Lepidus, and their Trains.
Oct. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know, It is not Caesar's natural vice to hate One great competitor: From Alexandria
This is the news—He fishes, drinks, and wastes
Lep. I must not think there are
Oct. You are too indulgent: Let us grant, it is not
him; (As his composure must be rare indeed, Whom these things cannot blemish) yet must Antony No way excuse his foils, when we do bear So great weight in his lightness: If he hll'd His vacancy with his voluptuousness, Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones Call on him for't: but, to confound such time,— That drums him from his sport, and speaks as loud As his own state and ours,—'tis to be chid As we rate boys; who, being mature in knowledge, Pawn tin ir experience to their present pleasure, Aii so rebel to judgment.
Enter a Messenger.
Lep. Here's more news.
J\Jess. Thy biddings have been done; and every hour,