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The Tragedie of
We wish it ours againe. The present pleasure,By reuolution lowring, does becomeThe opposite of it selfe: she's good being gon,The hand could plucke her backe, that shou'd her on.I must from this enchanting Queene breake off,Ten thousand harmes, more then the illes I knowMy idlenesse doth hatch.Enter Enobarbus.How now Enobarbus.
Eno.What's your pleasure, Sir?
Anth.I must with haste from hence.
Eno.Why then we kill all our Women. We see howmortall an vnkindnesse is to them, if they suffer our departure death's the word.
Ant.I must be gone.
Eno.Vnder a compelling an occasion, let women die.It were pitty to cast them away for nothing, though betweene them and a great cause, they should be esteemednothing. Cleopatra catching but the least noyse of this,dies instantly: I haue seene her dye twenty times vpponfarre poorer moment: I do think there is mettle in death,which commits some louing acte vpon her, she hath sucha celerity in dying.
Ant.She is cunning past mans thought.
Eno.Alacke Sir no, her passions are made of nothingbut the finest part of pure Loue. We cannot cal her windsand waters, sighes and teares: They are greater stormesand Tempests then Almanackes can report. This cannotbe cunning in her; if it be, she makes a showre of Raineas well as Ioue.
Ant.Would I had neuer seene her.
Eno.Oh sir, you had then left vnseene a wonderfullpeece of worke, which not to haue beene blest withall,would haue discredited your Trauaile.
Ant.Fuluia is dead.
Eno.Sir.
Ant.Fuluia is dead.
Eno.Fuluia?
Ant.Dead.
Eno.Why sir, giue the Gods a thankefull Sacrifice:when it pleaseth their Deities to take the wife of a manfrom him, it shewes to man the Tailors of the earth: comforting therein, that when olde Robes are worne out,there are members to make new. If there were no moreWomen but Fuluia, then had you indeede a cut, and thecase to be lamented: This greefe is crown'd with Consolation, your old Smocke brings foorth a new Petticoate,and indeed the teares liue in an Onion, that should waterthis sorrow.
Ant.The businesse she hath broached in the State,Cannot endure my absence.
Eno.And the businesse you haue broach'd heere cannot be without you, especially that of Cleopatra's, whichwholly depends on your abode.
Ant.No more light Answeres:Let our OfficersHaue notice what we purpose. I shall breakeThe cause of our Expedience to the Queene,And get her loue to part. For not aloneThe death of Fuluia, with more vrgent touchesDo strongly speake to vs: but the Letters tooOf many our contriuing Friends in Rome,Petition vs at home. Sextus PompeiusHaue giuen the dare to Cæsar, and commandsThe Empire of the Sea. Our slippery people,Whose Loue is neuer link'd to the deseruer,Till his deserts are past, begin to throwPompey the great, and all his DignitiesVpon his Sonne, who high in Name and Power,Higher then both in Blood and Life, stands vpFor the maine Souldier. Whose quality going on,The sides o'th'world may danger. Much is breeding,Which like the Coursers heire, hath yet but life,And not a Serpents poyson. Say our pleasure,To such whose places vnder vs, requireOur quicke remoue from hence.
Enob.I shall doo't.
Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Alexas, and Iras.
Cleo.Where is he?
Char.I did not see him since.
Cleo.See where he is,Whose with him, what he does:I did not send you. If you finde him sad,Say I am dauncing: if in Myrth, reportThat I am sodaine sicke. Quicke, and returne.
Char.Madam, me thinkes if you did loue him deerly,You do not hold the method, to enforceThe like from him.
Cleo.What should I do, I do not?
Ch.In each thing giue him way, crosse him in nothing.
Cleo.Thou teachest like a foole: the way to lose him.
Char.Tempt him not so too farre. I wish forbeare,In time we hate that which we often feare.Enter Anthony.But heere comes Anthony.
Cleo.I am sicke, and sullen.
An.I am sorry to giue breathing to my purpose.
Cleo.Helpe me away deere Charmian, I shall fall,It cannot be thus long, the sides of NatureWill not sustaine it.
Ant.Now my deerest Queene.
Cleo.Pray you stand farther from mee.
Ant.What's the matter?
Cleo.I know by that same eye ther's some good news.What sayes the married woman you may goe?Would she had neuer giuen you leaue to come.Let her not say 'tis I that keepe you heere,I haue no power vpon you: Hers you are.
Ant.The Gods best know.
Cleo.Oh neuer was there QueeneSo mightily betrayed: yet at the firstI saw the Treasons planted.
Ant.Cleopatra.
Cleo.
Why should I thinke you can be mine, & true,(Though you in swearing shake the Throaned Gods)Who haue beene false to Fuluia?Riotous madnesse,To be entangled with those mouth-made vowes,Which breake themselues in swearing.
Ant.Most sweet Queene.
Cleo.Nay pray you seeke no colour for your going,But bid farewell, and goe:When you sued staying,Then was the time for words: No going then,Eternity was in our Lippes, and Eyes,Blisse in our browes bent: none our parts so poore,But was a race of Heauen. They are so still,Or thou the greatest Souldier of the world,Art turn'd the greatest Lyar.
Ant.How now Lady?
Cleo.
