ANTONY. From Sicyon, ho, the news? Speak there! 

 SECOND MESSENGER. The man from Sicyon— 

 ANTONY. Is there such a one? 

 SECOND MESSENGER. He stays upon your will. 

 ANTONY. Let him appear. 

 [Exit second Messenger.] 

Messenger

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

 Enter another Messenger with a letter. 

Messenger

 What are you? 

 THIRD MESSENGER. Fulvia thy wife is dead. 

 ANTONY. Where died she? 

 THIRD MESSENGER. In Sicyon: Her length of sickness, with what else more serious Importeth thee to know, this bears. 

 [Gives a letter.] 

 ANTONY. Forbear me. 

 [Exit third Messenger.] 

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 lowering, does become The opposite of itself. She’s good, being gone. The hand could pluck her back that shoved 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! 

 Enter Enobarbus. 

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