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. 136
I must from this enchanting queen break off;
Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know,
My idleness doth hatch. How now! Enobarbus!
Enter Enobarbus.
Eno. What's your pleasure, sir? 140
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. 144
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 148
should be esteemed nothing. Cleopatra, catch-
ing 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 152
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 156
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 160
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 won-164
derful piece of work which not to have been
blessed withal would have discredited your travel.
