CLEOPATRA.
Sleep a little.
ANTONY.
No, my chuck.—Eros! Come, mine armour, Eros!
Enter Eros with armour.
Come, good fellow, put thine iron on.
If fortune be not ours today, it is
Because we brave her. Come.
CLEOPATRA.
Nay, I’ll help too.
What’s this for?
ANTONY.
Ah, let be, let be! Thou art
The armourer of my heart. False, false. This, this!
CLEOPATRA.
Sooth, la, I’ll help. Thus it must be.
ANTONY.
Well, well,
We shall thrive now. Seest thou, my good fellow?
Go put on thy defences.
EROS.
Briefly, sir.
CLEOPATRA.
Is not this buckled well?