A strange invisible perfume hits the sense Thyr. Upon her landing, Antony sent to her, It should be better, he became her guest; For what his eyes eat only. Dol. Royal wench! She made great Julius lay his sword to bed; Thyr. Never! he will not: Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale The appetites they feed; but she makes hungry, Dol. Well, I am sorry, He too approves the common liar, who [Exeunt severally. Cleo. He was disposed to mirth; but, on the sudden, A Roman thought hath struck him. Enobarbus,-Enob. Madam. Cleo. Seek him, and bring him hither.—Where's Alexas? Alexas. Here, lady, at your service. My lord approaches. Enter Antony, with a Messenger; Attendants following. Cleo. We will not look upon him; go with us. Mess. Fulvia, thy wife, came first into the field. Mess. Ay; but soon That war had end; and the time's state made friends Of them, jointing their forces against 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. Ou: 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, Hath with his Parthian force, through extended Asia, Whilst Ant. Antony, thou would'st say,— Mess. 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 license, as both truth and malice Have power to utter. O, then we bring forth weeds, When our quick winds lie still; and our ills told us, Is as our earing. Fare thee well awhile. Mess. At your noble pleasure. [Exit. Ant. From Sicyon how the news? Speak there. one? 2 Atten. 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? Mess. Fulvia, thy wife, is dead. Ant. Where dy'd she? Mess. In Sicyon: Her length of sickness, with what else more serious Importeth thee to know, this bears. [Gives a Letter. Ant. Forbear me.— [Exit 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, The opposite of itself: she's good, being gone; Enter Enobarbus. Enob. What's your pleasure, sir? Ant. I must with haste from hence. Enob. 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 begone. Enob. 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 esteemed nothing. Cleopatra, catching but the least noise of this, dies instantly: I have seen her die twenty times upon far poorer moment. Ant. She is cunning past man's thought. Fulvia is dead. Enob. Sir? Ant. Fulvia is dead. Enob. Fulvia? Ant. Dead. Enob. Why, sir, give the gods a thankful sacrifice. 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. Enob. And the business you have broached 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 Enob. I shall do't. [Exeunt, SCENE III. Another Apartment in the Palace. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas. Cleo. Where is he? Char. I did not see him since. Cleo, See where he is—who's with him-what he does: |