last,
When urged with long unkindness and disdain:
Take her again, whom you prefer to me;
She stays but to be called. Poor cozened man!
Let a feigned parting give her back your heart,
Which a feigned love first got; for injured me,
Though my just sense of wrongs forbid my stay,
My duty shall be yours.
To the dear pledges of our former love,
My tenderness and care shall be transferred,
And they shall cheer, by turns, my widowed nights:
So, take my last farewell; for I despair
To have you whole, and scorn to take you half. [_Exit._

_Vent._ I combat heaven, which blasts my best designs:
My last attempt must be to win her back;
But Oh, I fear in vain. [_Exit._

_Ant._ Why was I framed with this plain honest heart,
Which knows not to disguise its griefs and weakness.
But bears its workings outward to the world?
I should have kept the mighty anguish in,
And forced a smile at Cleopatra's falsehood:
Octavia had believed it, and had staid.
But I am made a shallow-forded stream,
Seen to the bottom: all my clearness scorned,
And all my faults exposed.--See where he comes.

_Enter_ DOLABELLA.

Who has profaned the sacred name of friend,
And worn it into vileness!
With how secure a brow, and specious form,
He gilds the secret villain! Sure that face
Was meant for honesty; but heaven mis-matched it,
And furnished treason out with Nature's pomp,
To make its work more easy.

_Dola._ O, my friend!

_Ant._ Well, Dolabella, you performed my message?

_Dola._ I did, unwillingly.

_Ant._ Unwillingly?
Was it so hard for you to bear our parting?
You should have wished it.

_Dola._ Why?

_Ant._ Because you love me.
And she received my message, with as true,
With as unfeigned a sorrow, as you brought it?

_Dola._ She loves you, even to madness.

_Ant._ Oh, I know it.
You, Dolabella, do not better know
How much she loves me. And should I
Forsake this beauty? This all-perfect creature?

_Dola._ I could not, were she mine.

_Ant._ And yet you first
Persuaded me: How come you altered since?

_Dola._ I said at first I was not fit to go:
I could not bear her sighs, and see her tears,
But pity must prevail: And so, perhaps,
It may again with you; for I have promised,
That she should take her last farewell: And, see,
She comes to claim my word.

_Enter_ CLEOPATRA.

_Ant._ False Dolabella!

_Dola._ What's false, my lord?

_Ant._ Why, Dolabella's false,
A