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 honorable trial.
CLEOPATRA.
So Fulvia told me.
I pr'ythee 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 honor.
ANTONY.
You'll heat my blood—no more.
CLEOPATRA.
You can do better yet; but this is meetly.