But here comes 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 sued 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 world,

          Art turn'd the greatest liar.

        ANTONY. How now, lady!

        CLEOPATRA. I would I had thy inches. Thou shouldst know

          There were a heart in Egypt.

        ANTONY. Hear me, queen:

          The strong necessity of time commands

          Our services awhile; but my full heart

          Remains in use with you. Our Italy

          Shines o'er with civil swords: Sextus Pompeius

          Makes his approaches to the port of Rome;

          Equality of two domestic powers

          Breed scrupulous faction; the hated, grown to strength,

          Are newly grown to love. The condemn'd Pompey,

          Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace

          Into the hearts of such as have not thrived

          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.

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

           It does from childishness. Can Fulvia die?

        ANTONY. She's dead, my Queen.

          Look here, and at thy sovereign leisure read

          The garboils she awak'd. At the last, best.

          See when and where she died.

        CLEOPATRA. O most false love!

          Where be the sacred vials thou shouldst fill

          With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see,

          In Fulvia's death how mine receiv'd shall be.

        ANTONY. Quarrel no more, but be prepar'd to know

          The purposes I bear; which are, or cease,

          As you shall give th' advice. By the fire

          That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence

          Thy soldier, servant, making peace or war

          As thou affects.

        CLEOPATRA. Cut my lace, Charmian, come!

          But let it be; I am quickly ill and well-

          So Antony loves.

        ANTONY. My precious queen, forbear,

          And give true evidence to his love, which stands

          An honourable trial.

        CLEOPATRA. So Fulvia told me.

          I prithee turn aside and weep for her;

          Then bid adieu to me, and say the tears

          Belong to Egypt. Good now, play one scene

          Of excellent dissembling, and let it look

          Like perfect honour.

        ANTONY. You'll heat my blood; no more.

        CLEOPATRA. You can do better yet; but this is meetly.

        ANTONY. Now, by my sword-

        CLEOPATRA. And target. Still he mends;

          But this is not the best. Look, prithee, Charmian,

          How this Herculean Roman does become

          The carriage of his chafe.

        ANTONY. I'll leave you, lady.

        CLEOPATRA. Courteous lord, one word.

          Sir, you and I must part- but that's not it.

          Sir, you and I have lov'd- but there's not it.

          That you know well. Something it is I would-

          O, my oblivion is a very Antony,

          And I am all forgotten!

        ANTONY. But that your royalty

          Holds idleness your subject, I should take you

          For idleness itself.

        CLEOPATRA. 'Tis sweating labour

          To bear such idleness so near the heart

          As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me;

          Since my becomings kill me when they do