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 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, Cleo. Pray you, stand further from me. Ant. What's the matter? Cleo. I know, by that same eye, there's some good news? What says the married woman?-You may go; I have no power upon you; hers you are. Cleo. O, never was there queen So mightily betray'd! Yet, at the first, 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! 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, But was a race of heaven: They are so still, Art turn'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 Shines o'er with civil swords: Sextus Pompeius 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. Cleo. Cut my lace, Charmian, come But let it be.-I am quickly ill, and well: So Antony loves. Ant. My precious queen, forbear; And give true evidence to his love, which stands An honourable trial. 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: And I am all forgotten. Ant. But that your royalty Holds idleness your subject, I should take you 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 Be strew'd before your feet! Ant. Let us go. Come; Our separation so abides, and flies, [Exeunt. SCENE IV-Rome. An Apartment in Cæsar's House. Enter Octavius Cæsar, Lepidus, and Attendants. Cæs. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know, It is not Cæsar's natural vice to hate One great competitor. From Alexandria This is the news; He fishes, drinks, and wastes More womanly than he hardly gave audience, or Vouchsaf'd to think he had partners: you shall find there A man, who is the abstract of all faults That all men follow. Lep. I must not think, there are Cas. You are too indulgent: Let us grant, it is not Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy; To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit And keep the turn of tippling with a slave; To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet With knaves that smell of sweat: say, this becomes him, (As his composure must be rare indeed, Whom these things cannot blemish,) yet must Antony So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd 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 their experience to their present pleasure, And so rebel to judgement. Lep. Enter a Messenger. Here's more news. Mes. Thy biddings have been done; and every hour Most noble Cæsar, shalt thou have report How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea; And it appears, he is belov'd of those That only have fear'd Cæsar: to the ports The discontents repair, and men's reports Give him much wrong'd. Cæs. I should have known no less:It hath been taught us from the primal state, That he, which is, was wish'd, until he were ; And the ebb'd man, ne'er lov'd, till ne'er worth love, Goes to, and back, lackeying the varying tide, Mes. Cæsar, I bring thee word, Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates, Make the sea serve them; which they ear and wound With keels of every kind: Many hot inroads They make in Italy; the borders maritime Lack blood to think on't, and flush youth revolt: Taken as seen; for Pompey's name strikes more, Leave thy lascivious wassals. When thou once |