Ant. How now Lady?
Cleo. I would I had thy inches, thou should'st know
There were a heart in Egypt
Ant. Heare me Queene:
The strong necessity of Time, commands
Our Seruices a-while: but my full heart
Remaines in vse with you. Our Italy,
Shines o're with ciuill Swords; Sextus Pompeius
Makes his approaches to the Port of Rome,
Equality of two Domesticke powers,
Breed scrupulous faction: The hated growne to strength
Are newly growne to Loue: The condemn'd Pompey,
Rich in his Fathers Honor, creepes apace
Into the hearts of such, as haue not thriued
Vpon the present state, whose Numbers threaten,
And quietnesse growne sicke of rest, would purge
By any desperate change: My more particular,
And that which most with you should safe my going,
Is Fuluias death
Cleo. Though age from folly could not giue me freedom
It does from childishnesse. Can Fuluia dye?
Ant. She's dead my Queene.
Looke heere, and at thy Soueraigne leysure read
The Garboyles she awak'd: at the last, best,
See when, and where shee died
Cleo. O most false Loue!
Where be the Sacred Violles thou should'st fill
With sorrowfull water? Now I see, I see,
In Fuluias death, how mine receiu'd shall be
Ant. Quarrell no more, but bee prepar'd to know
The purposes I beare: which are, or cease,
As you shall giue th' aduice. By the fire
That quickens Nylus slime, I go from hence
Thy Souldier, Seruant, making Peace or Warre,
As thou affects
Cleo. Cut my Lace, Charmian come,
But let it be, I am quickly ill, and well,
So Anthony loues
Ant. My precious Queene forbeare,
And giue true euidence to his Loue, which stands
An honourable Triall
Cleo. So Fuluia told me.
I prythee turne aside, and weepe for her,
Then bid adiew to me, and say the teares
Belong to Egypt. Good now, play one Scene
Of excellent dissembling, and let it looke
Like perfect Honor
Ant. You'l heat my blood no more?
Cleo. You can do better yet: but this is meetly
Ant. Now by Sword