Antony and Cleopatra | Page 5

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--ho, Enobarbus!
[Re-enter ENOBARBUS.]
ENOBARBUS.?What's your pleasure, sir?
ANTONY.?I must with haste from hence.
ENOBARBUS.?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.
ANTONY.?I must be gone.
ENOBARBUS.?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: 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.
ENOBARBUS.?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!
ENOBARBUS.?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.
ENOBARBUS.?Sir?
ANTONY.?Fulvia is dead.
ENOBARBUS.?Fulvia?
ANTONY.?Dead.
ENOBARBUS.?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.
ANTONY.?The business she hath broached in the state?Cannot endure my absence.
ENOBARBUS.?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.
ENOBARBUS.?I shall do't.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE III. Alexandria. A Room in CLEOPATRA'S palace.
[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 in 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 su'd 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