The Same. Another Room. | |
| |
Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS. | |
| Cleo. Where is he? | |
| Char. I did not see him since. | 4 |
| 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. | 8 |
| 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? | 12 |
| 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. | 16 |
| But here comes Antony. | |
| |
Enter ANTONY. | |
| Cleo. I am sick and sullen. | |
| Ant. I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose,— | 20 |
| 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,— | 24 |
| 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: | 28 |
| 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,— | 32 |
| Cleo. O! never was there queen | |
| So mightily betray’d; yet at the first | |
| I saw the treasons planted. | |
| Ant. Cleopatra,— | 36 |
| 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, | 40 |
| 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 | 44 |
| 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, | 48 |
| 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 shouldst know | 52 |
| There were a heart in Egypt. | |
| Ant. Hear me, queen: | |
| The strong necessity of time commands | |
| Our services awhile, but my full heart | 56 |
| 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 | 60 |
| Breeds 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 thriv’d | 64 |
| 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, | 68 |
| 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: | 72 |
| Look here, and at thy sovereign leisure read | |
| The garboils she awak’d; at the last, best, | |
| See when and where she died. | |
| Cleo. O most false love! | 76 |
| Where be the sacred vials thou shouldst fill | |
| With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see, | |
| In Fulvia’s death, how mine receiv’d shall be. | |
| Ant. Quarrel no more, but be prepar’d to know | 80 |
| 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 | 84 |
| As thou affect’st. | |
| Cleo. Cut my lace, Charmian, come; | |
| But let it be: I am quickly ill, and well; | |
| So Antony loves. | 88 |
| Ant. My precious queen, forbear, | |
| And give true evidence to his love which stands | |
| An honourable trial. | |
| Cleo. So Fulvia told me. | 92 |
| 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 | 96 |
| Like perfect honour. | |
| Ant. You’ll heat my blood; no more. | |
| Cleo. You can do better yet, but this is meetly. | |
| Ant. Now, by my sword,— | 100 |
| Cleo. And target. Still he mends; | |
| But this is not the best. Look, prithee, Charmian, | |
| How this Herculean Roman does become | |
| The carriage of his chafe. | 104 |
| 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; | 108 |
| 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 | 112 |
| Holds idleness your subject, I should take you | |
| For idleness itself. | |
| Cleo. ’Tis sweating labour | |
| To bear such idleness so near the heart | 116 |
| As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me; | |
| Since my becomings kill me when they do not | |
| Eye well to you: your honour calls you hence; | |
| Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly, | 120 |
| And all the gods go with you! Upon your sword | |
| Sit laurel victory! and smooth success | |
| Be strew’d before your feet! | |
| Ant. Let us go. Come; | 124 |
| Our separation so abides and flies, | |
| That thou, residing here, go’st yet with me, | |
| And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee. | |
| Away! [Exeunt. | 128 |
