ANTONY.
Most sweet queen!
CLEOPATRA.
Nay, pray you, seek no color for your going,
But bid farewell, and go.
She recovers her dignity for a moment at the news of Fulvia's death, as if roused by a blow:—
Though age from folly could not give me freedom,
It does from childishness. Can Fulvia die?
And then follows the artful mockery with which she tempts and provokes him, in order to discover whether he regrets his wife.
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 receiv'd 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. Now, by the fire
That quickens Nilus' shrine, I go from hence
Thy soldier, servant, making peace or war,
As thou affectest.