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Eno. Hush! here comes Antony.
Char.

Not he, the

queen,

Enter CLEOPATRA.
Cleo. Saw you my lord ?
Enu.

No, lady
Cleo.

Was he not here?
Char. No, madam.

Clev. He was dispos'd to mirth; but on the sudden A Roman thought hath struck him.- Enobarbus,

Eno, Madam.
Cleo. Seek him, and bring him hither. Where's

Alexas ?
Alex. Here, madam, at your service.—My lord

approaches. Enter ANTONY, with a Messenger, and Attendants. Cleo. We will not look upon him: Go with us. [Exeunt Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Alexas, Iras,

Charmian, Soothsayer, and Attendants. Mess. Fulvia thy wife first came into the field. Ant. Against my brother Lucius ?

Mess. Ay:
But soon that war had end, and the time's state
Made friends of them, jointing their force 'gainst

Cæsar;
Whose better issue in the war, from Italy,
Upon the first encounter, drave them.
Ant.

Well,
What worst?

Mess. The nature of bad news infects the teller. Ant. When it concerns the fool, or coward.

On:
Things, that are past, are done, with me.— 'Tis thus;
Who tells me true, though in his tale lie death,
I hear him as he flatter'd.
Mess.

Labienus
(This is stiff news) hath, with his Parthian force,
Extended Asia from Euphrătes ;
His conquering banner shook, from Syria
To Lydia, and to Ionia ;
Whilst

Ant. Antony, thou would'st say,
Aless.

O, my lord! Ant. Speak to me home, mince not the general

tongue; Name Cleopatra as she's call'd in Rome : Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase; and taunt my faults With such full licence, as both truth and malice Have power to utter. 50, then we bring forth

weeds, When our quick winds lie still; and our ills told us, Is as our earing. Fare thee well a while. Mess. At your noble pleasure.

[Exit. Ant. From Sicyon how the news? Speak there. 1 Att. The man from Sicyon.—Is there such an

one ? 2 Att. He stays upon your will. Ant.

Let him appear. These strong Egyptian fetters I must break,

Enter another Messenger.
Or lose myself in dotage.-What are you?

2 Mess. Fulvia thy wife is dead.
Ant.

Where died she? 2 Mess. In Sicyon: Her length of sickness, with what else more serious Importeth thee to know, this bears. [gides a letter. Ant.

Forbear me..

[Erit Messenger.
There's a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it:
What our contempts do often hurl from us,
We wish it ours again; the present pleasure,
By revolution lowering, does become
The opposite of itself: she's good, being gone;
The hand could pluck her back, that shov'd her on.
I must from this enchanting queen break off;
Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know,
My idleness doth hatch.-How now! Enobarbus!

Enter ENOBARBUS.
Eno. What's your pleasure, sir?
Ant. I must with haste from hence.

Eno. Why, then, we kill all our women: We see how mortal an unkindness is to them; if they suffer our departure, death's the word.

Ant. I must be gone.

Eno. Under a compelling occasion, let women die: It were pity to cast them away for nothing; though, between them and a great cause, they should be

esteem'd nothing. Cleopatra, catching but the least noise of this, dies instantly; I have seen her die twenty times upon far poorer moment: I do think, there is mettle in death, which commits some loving act upon her, she hath such a celerity in dying.

Ant. She is cunning past man's thought.

Eno. 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 almanacks can report: this cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a shower of rain as well as Jove.

Ant. 'Would I had never seen her!

Eno. O, sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece of work; which not to have been bless'd withal, would have discredited your travel.

Ant. Fulvia is dead.
Eno. Sir?
Ant. Fulvia is dead.
Eno. Fulvia ?
Ant. Dead.

Eno. 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 crown'd with consolation; your old smock brings forth a new petticoat:-and, indeed, the tears live in an onion, that should water this sorrow.

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

Eno. And the business you have broach'd here cannot be without you ; especially that of Cleopatra's, which wholly depends on your abode.

Ant. 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 love 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 poisono. Say, our pleasure, To such whose place is under us, requires Our quick remove from hence. Eno. I shall do't.

[Exeunt.

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