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 turned 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 condemned 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 awaked; 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 received shall be. 

 ANTONY. Quarrel no more, but be prepared 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. 

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