The Complete Works of William Shakespeare - William Shakespeare (book suggestions .TXT) 📗

handsome man loose-wiv’d, so it is a deadly sorrow to behold a foul knave uncuckolded. Therefore, dear Isis, keep decorum, and fortune him accordingly!

CHARMIAN. Amen.

ALEXAS. Lo now, if it lay in their hands to make me a cuckold, they would make themselves whores but they’ld do’t!

 

Enter CLEOPATRA ENOBARBUS. Hush! Here comes Antony.

CHARMIAN. Not he; the Queen.

CLEOPATRA. Saw you my lord?

ENOBARBUS. No, lady.

CLEOPATRA. Was he not here?

CHARMIAN. No, madam.

CLEOPATRA. He was dispos’d to mirth; but on the sudden A Roman thought hath struck him. Enobarbus!

ENOBARBUS. Madam?

CLEOPATRA. Seek him, and bring him hither. Where’s Alexas?

ALEXAS. Here, at your service. My lord approaches.

 

Enter ANTONY, with a MESSENGER and attendants CLEOPATRA. We will not look upon him. Go with us.

Exeunt CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUS, and the rest MESSENGER. Fulvia thy wife first came into the field.

ANTONY. Against my brother Lucius?

MESSENGER. Ay.

But soon that war had end, and the time’s state Made friends of them, jointing their force ‘gainst Caesar, Whose better issue in the war from Italy Upon the first encounter drave them.

ANTONY. Well, what worst?

MESSENGER. The nature of bad news infects the teller.

ANTONY. 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, I hear him as he flatter’d.

MESSENGER. Labienus—

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—

ANTONY. Antony, thou wouldst say.

MESSENGER. O, my lord!

ANTONY. 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 When our quick minds lie still, and our ills told us Is as our earing. Fare thee well awhile.

MESSENGER. At your noble pleasure. Exit ANTONY. From Sicyon, ho, the news! Speak there!

FIRST ATTENDANT. The man from Sicyon-is there such an one?

SECOND ATTENDANT. He stays upon your will.

ANTONY. Let him appear.

These strong Egyptian fetters I must break, Or lose myself in dotage.

 

Enter another MESSENGER with a letter What are you?

SECOND MESSENGER. Fulvia thy wife is dead.

ANTONY. Where died she?

SECOND MESSENGER. In Sicyon.

Her length of sickness, with what else more serious Importeth thee to know, this bears. [Gives the letter]

ANTONY. Forbear me. Exit MESSENGER

There’s a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it.

What our contempts doth often hurl from us We wish it ours again; the present pleasure, By revolution low’ring, 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. How now, 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 show’r 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 broach’d 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 to 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’ th’ 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. 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.

 

Enter ANTONY

 

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 hereI 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 not Eye well to you. Your honour calls you hence; Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly, And all the gods go with you! Upon your sword Sit laurel victory, and smooth success Be strew’d before your feet!

ANTONY. Let us go. Come.

Our separation so abides and flies

That thou, residing here, goes yet with me, And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee.

Away! Exeunt

SCENE IV.

Rome. CAESAR’S house

 

Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, reading a letter; LEPIDUS, and their train CAESAR. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know, It is not Caesar’s natural vice to hate Our great competitor. From Alexandria This is the news: he fishes, drinks, and wastes The lamps of night in revel; is not more manlike Than Cleopatra, nor the queen of Ptolemy More womanly