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 15. 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 The cause of our expedience 16 to the queen, And get her love 17 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

away

your

wife

15 As the gods have been pleased to take Fulvia, so they have provided you with a new one in Cleopatra; in like manner as the tailors of the earth, when your old gar ments are worn out, accommodate you with new ones.' 16 Expedition.

17 I think with Mason that we should read leave instead of love.

(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 18 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 19.

Eno. I shall do't.

SCENE III.

[Exeunt.

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:

I did not send you1;-If you find him sad,
Say, I am dancing: if in mirth, report

That I am sudden sick: Quick, and return.

[Exit ALEX. Char. Madam, methinks, if you did love him dearly,

18 This alludes to the ancient vulgar error, that a horse-hair dropped into corrupted water would become animated. Dr. Lister, in the Philosophical Transactions, showed that these animated horse-hairs were real insects, and displayed the fallacy of the popular opinion. It was asserted that these insects moved like serpents, and were poisonous to swallow.

19 Say to those whose place is under us (i. e. to our attendants), that our pleasure requires us to remove in haste from hence.'

'You must go as if you came without my order or knowledge.' So in Troilus and Cressida :

We met by chance; you did not find me here.'

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.

Cleo. Thou teachest like a fool: the way to lose him. Char. Tempt him not so too far: I wish, forbear; In time we hate that which we often fear..

Enter ANTONY.

But here comes Antony.

Cleo.

I am sick, and sullen.

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 2.

Ant.

Now, my dearest queen,

Cleo. Pray you, stand further from me.

Ant.

What's the matter? 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.
Ant. The gods best know,-

Cleo.

O, never was there queen So mightily betray'd! Yet, at the first,

I saw the treasons planted.

Ant.

Cleopatra,

Cleo. Why should I think, you can be mine, and

true,

Though you in swearing shake the throned gods,

2 Thus in Twelfth Night :

There is no woman's sides

Can bide the beating of so strong a passion.'

Who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous madness, To be entangled with those mouth-made vows, Which break themselves in swearing!

Ant.

Most sweet queen,—

Cleo. 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' bent3; none our parts so poor,
But was a race of heaven: They are so still,

4

Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world,

Art turn'd the greatest liar.

Ant.

How now,

lady!

Cleo. I would, I had thy inches; thou should'st

know,

There were a heart in Egypt.

Ant.

Hear me, queen;
The strong necessity of time commands
Our services a while; but my full heart
Remains in use 5 with you. Our Italy

Shines o'er with civil swords: Sextus Pompeius
Makes his approaches to the port of Rome:
Equality of two domestick powers

Breeds scrupulous faction: The hated, grown to strength,

Are newly grown to love: the condemn'd Pompey,

3 Our brows' bent,' is the bending or inclination of our brows. The brow is that part of the face which expresses most fully the mental emotions. So in King John :

'Why do you bend such solemn brows on me.'

4 i. e. of heavenly mould.

Divinæ stirpis alumnus.'

5 The poet here means, in pledge,' the use of a thing is the possession of it. Thus in The Merchant of Venice :

• Gate..

'I am content, so he will let me have

The other half in use.'

Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace
Into the hearts of such as have not thriv'd
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.

Cleo. Though age from folly could not give me
freedom,

It does from childishness:-Can Fulvia die?
Ant. She's dead, my queen:

Look here, and, at thy sovereign leisure, read
The garboils she awak'd9; at the last, best:
See, when, and where she died.

Cleo.
O most false love:
Where be the sacred vials thou should'st fill
With sorrowful water 10? I see, I see,
In Fulvia's death, how mine receiv'd shall be.
Ant. Quarrel no more, but be prepar'd 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.

Cleo.

Cut my lace, Charmian, come;~

But let it be.—I am quickly ill, and well:
So Antony loves.

Ant.
My precious queen, forbear;
And give true evidence to his love, which stands
An honourable trial.

7 i. e. render my going not dangerous.

8 Cleopatra apparently means to say, 'Though age could not exempt me from folly, at least it frees me from a childish and ready belief of every assertion. Is it possible that Fulvia is

dead? I cannot believe it.'

9 The commotion she occasioned.

10 Alluding to the lachrymatory vials filled with tears, which the Romans placed in the tomb of a departed friend.