Who has profaned the sacred name of friend,
And worn it into vileness!
With how secure a brow, and specious form,
He gilds the secret villain! Sure that face
Was meant for honesty; but Heaven mismatched it,
And furnished treason out with nature's pomp,
To make its work more easy.
DOLABELLA. O my friend!
ANTONY. Well, Dolabella, you performed my message?
DOLABELLA. I did, unwillingly.
ANTONY. Unwillingly?
Was it so hard for you to bear our parting?
You should have wished it.
DOLABELLA. Why?
ANTONY. Because you love me.
And she received my message with as true,
With as unfeigned a sorrow as you brought it?
DOLABELLA. She loves you, even to madness.
ANTONY. Oh, I know it.
You, Dolabella, do not better know
How much she loves me. And should I
Forsake this beauty? This all-perfect creature?
DOLABELLA. I could not, were she mine.