ANTONY.
Now, my dearest queen—
CLEOPATRA.
Pray you, stand farther from me.
ANTONY.
What’s the matter?
CLEOPATRA.
I know by that same eye there’s some good news.
What, says the married woman you may go?
Would she had never given you leave to come!
Let her not say ’tis I that keep you here.
I have no power upon you; hers you are.
ANTONY.
The gods best know—
CLEOPATRA.
O, never was there queen
So mightily betrayed! Yet at the first
I saw the treasons planted.
ANTONY.
Cleopatra—
CLEOPATRA.
Why should I think you can be mine and true,
Though you in swearing shake the throned gods,
Who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous madness,
To be entangled with those mouth-made vows
Which break themselves in swearing!
ANTONY.
Most sweet queen—
CLEOPATRA.
Nay, pray you seek no colour for your going,
But bid farewell and go. When you sued staying,
Then was the time for words. No going then,
Eternity was in our lips and eyes,
Bliss in our brows’ bent; none our parts so poor
But was a race of heaven. They are so still,
Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world,
Art turned the greatest liar.