Sooth. If every of your wishes had a womb, And fertile every wish, a million. Char. Out, fool! I forgive thee for a witch. Alex. You think none but your sheets are privy to your wishes. Alex. We'll know all our fortunes. Eno. Mine, and most of our fortunes, to-night, shall be,—drunk to bed. Iras. There's a palm presages chastity, if nothing else. Iras. Go, you wild bedfellow, you cannot soothsay. Char. Nay, if an oily palm be not a fruitful prognostication, I cannot scratch mine ear.-Pr'ythee, tell her but a worky-day fortune. Sooth. Your fortunes are alike. Iras. But how? but how? give me particulars. Sooth. I have said. Iras. Am I not an inch of fortune better than she? Char. Well, if you were but an inch of fortune better than I, where would you choose it? Iras. Not in my husband's nose. Char. Our worser thoughts heavens mend!-Alexas,-come, his fortune, his fortune!-O, let him marry a woman that cannot go, sweet Isis, I beseech thee: and let her die too, and give him a worse! and let worse follow worse, till the worst of all follow him laughing to his grave, fifty-fold a cuckold! Good Isis, hear me this prayer, though thou deny me a matter of more weight; good Isis, I beseech thee! Iras. Amen. Dear goddess, hear that prayer of the people! for, as it is a heart-breaking to see a handsome man loose-wived, so it is a deadly sorrow to behold a foul knave uncuckolded: therefore, dear Isis, keep decorum, and fortune him accordingly! Char. Amen. Alex. Lo, now, if it lay in their hands to make me a cuckold, they would make themselves whores, but they'd do 't! Cleo. He was disposed 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? [Exeunt CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUS, ALEXAS, IRAS, CHARMIAN, and Soothsayer. Enter ANTONY, with a Messenger and Attendants. Mess. Fulvia, thy wife, first came into the field. 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, (This is stiff news) hath, with his Parthian force, Extended Asia from Euphrates; His conquering banner shook, from Syria To Lydia, and to Ionia; whilst Ant. Antony, thou wouldst say,— Mess. O, my lord! Ant. Speak to me home, mince not the general tongue : Name Cleopatra as she is 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. O, then we bring forth weeds, Mess. At your noble pleasure. Speak there! there such a one? Let him appear.— These strong Egyptian fetters I must break, Or lose myself in dotage. Enter another Messenger. [Exit. What are you? 2 Mess. Fulvia thy wife is dead. Ant. 2 Mess. In Sicyon : Ant. Where died she? Her length of sickness, with what else more serious [Giving a letter. Forbear me.[Exit second Messenger. There's a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it: 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. 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 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. 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 almanacs 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 blessed 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 crowned 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 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 And not a serpent's poison. Say, our pleasure, Eno. I shall do it. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-Another Room in the Palace. Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS. Char. I did not see him since. Cleo. See where he is, who 's with him, what he does : I did not send you. -If you find him sad, [Exit ALEXAS. 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. Char. In each thing give him way, cross him in nothing. But here comes Antony. Cleo. I am sick, and sullen. Enter ANTONY. Ant. I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose,— 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,— Cleo. Pray you, stand farther from me. What's the matter i Cleo. 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. O, never was there queen So mightily betray'd! yet at the first I saw the treasons planted. Cleo. Why should I think you can be mine, and true, Ant. Most sweet queen,— Cleo. 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, |