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.

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.

ANTONY.

Now, by my sword--

CLEOPATRA.

And target--still he mends:
But this is not the best. Look, pr'ythee, Charmian,
How this Herculean Roman does become
The carriage of his chafe!

This is, indeed, most "excellent dissembling;" but when she has fooled
and chafed the Herculean Roman to the verge of danger, then comes that
return of tenderness which secures the power she has tried to the
utmost, and we have all the elegant, the poetical Cleopatra in her
beautiful farewell.

Forgive me!
Since my becomings kill me when they do not
Eye well to you. Your honor calls you hence,
Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly,
And all the gods go with you! Upon your sword
Sit laurell'd victory; and smooth success
Be strew'd before your feet!

Finer still are the workings of her variable mind and lively
imagination, after Antony's departure; her fond repining at his absence,
her violent spirit, her right royal wilfulness and impatience, as if it
were a wrong to her majesty, an insult to her sceptre, that there should
exist in her despite such things as space and time; and high treason to
her sovereign power, to dare to remember what she choo