Antony and Cleopatra

poorer moment: I do think there is mettle in death, which commits some loving act upon her, she hath such a celerity in dying. Antony She is cunning past man’s thought. Enobarbas 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. Antony Would I had never seen her! Enobarbas O, sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece of work; which not to have been blest withal would have discredited your travel. Antony Fulvia is dead. Enobarbas Sir? Antony Fulvia is dead. Enobarbas Fulvia! Antony Dead. Enobarbas 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. Antony

The business she hath broached in the state
Cannot endure my absence.

Enobarbas And the business you have broached here cannot be without you; especially that of Cleopatra’s, which wholly depends on your abode. 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.

Enobarbas I shall do’t. Exeunt.

Scene III

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 Antony.
Cleopatra	I am sick and sullen.
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.
Antony	Now, my dearest queen⁠—
Cleopatra	Pray you, stand farther from me.
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.
Antony	The gods best know⁠—
Cleopatra	O, never was there queen So mightily betray’d! yet at the first I saw the treasons planted.
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!
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.
Antony	How now, lady!
Cleopatra	I would I had thy inches; thou shouldst know There were a heart in Egypt.
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?
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.
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.
Antony	My precious queen, forbear; And give true evidence to his love, which stands An honourable trial.
Cleopatra