Ant. Octavia, I was looking you, my love:
What, are your letters ready? I have given
My last instructions.
Octav. Mine, my lord, are written.
Ant. Ventidius.[Drawing him aside.
Vent. My lord?
Ant. A word in private.—
When saw you Dolabella?
Vent. Now, my lord,
He parted hence; and Cleopatra with him.
Ant. Speak softly.—'Twas by my command he went,
To bear my last farewell.
Vent. It looked indeed[Aloud.
Like your farewell.
Ant. More softly.—My farewell?
What secret meaning have you in those words
Of—my farewell? He did it by my order.
Vent. Then he obeyed your order. I suppose[Aloud.
You bid him do it with all gentleness,
All kindness, and all—love.