Ant. Most sweet Queen,

Cleo. Nay, pray you, feek no colour for your going, But bid farewel, and go: when you fued staying, Then was the time for words; no going, then; Eternity was in our lips and eyes,

Blifs in our Brows' bent, none our parts fo poor,
But was 7 a race of heav'n. They are fo ftill,
Or thou, the greatest foldier of the world,
Art turn'd the greatest liar.

Ant. How, now, lady?

Cleo. I would I had thy inches, thou should'st know, There were a heart in Egypt.

Ant. Hear me, Queen;

The strong neceffity of time commands
Our services a-while; but my full heart
Remains in Use with you. Our Italy
Shines o'er with civil fwords; Sextus Pompeius
Makes his approaches to the port of Rome.
Equality of two domestick Pow'rs

Breeds fcrupulous faction; the hated, grown to ftrength,
Are newly grown to love: the condemn'd Pompey,
Rich in his father's Honour, creeps apace

Into the hearts of fuch as have not thriv'n
Upon the present ftate, whofe numbers threaten ;
And quietnefs, grown fick of reft, would purge
By any defperate change. My more particular,
And that which moft with you should (a) falve my
going,

Is Fulvia's death.

Cleo. Though age from folly could not give me freedom,

It does from childishness. Can Fulvia die?

7

Ant. She's dead, my Queen.

heaven.

a race of heav'n.-] i. e. had a fmack or flavour of

[(a) falive. Mr. Theobald Vulg. Save.]

Look

Look here, and at thy fovereign leifure read
The garboyls fhe awak'd; at the last, best.
See, when, and where fhe died.

Cleo. O moft falfe love!

Where be the facred vials thou fhould'ft fill
With forrowful water? now I fee, I fee,
In Fulvia's death, how mine fhall be receiv'd.
Ant. Quarrel no more, but be prepar'd to know
The purposes I bear; which are, or cease,
As you fhall give th' advices. By the fire,
That quickens Nilus' flime, I go from hence
Thy foldier, fervant, making peace or war,
As thou affect'st.

8

Cleo. Cut my lace, Charmian, come; But let it be, I'm quickly ill, and well: So, Antony loves.

Ant. My precious Queen, forbear,

And give true evidence to his love, which ftands
An honourable trial.

Clea. So Fulvia told me.

I pry'thee, turn afide, and weep for her;
Then bid adieu to me and fay, the tears
Belong to Egypt. Good now, play one Scene
Of excellent diffembling, and let it look

Like perfect honour.

Ant. You'll heat my blood; no more.

Cleo. You can do better yet; but this is meetly.
Ant. Now by my fword-

Cleo. And target-Still he mends:

But this is not the best. Look, pry'thee, Charmian, How this Herculean Roman does become

8

-I'm quickly ill, and well,

So, Antony loves.] It should be pointed thus,

I'm quickly ill and well:

So Antony loves.

So, i. e. thus fantastically and capricioufly. But the common pointing makes her fay the quite contrary.

The

The carriage of his chafe.

Ant. I'll leave you, lady.

Cleo. Courteous lord, one word;

Sir, you and I must part; (but that's not it,)
Sir, you and I have lov'd; (but there's not it;
That you know well ;) fomething it is, I would:
'Oh, my oblivion is a very Antony,

And I am all forgotten.

Ant. But that your royalty

Holds Idleness your fubject, I fhould take you
For Idlenefs itself.

Cleo. 'Tis fweating labour

To bear fuch Idlenefs fo near the heart,
As Cleopatra, this. But, Sir, forgive me;
Since my becomings kill me, when they do not
Eye well to you. Your honour calls you hence,
Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly,
And all the Gods go with you! On your fword
Sit laurell'd victory, and smooth fuccefs
Be ftrew'd before your feet!

Ant. Let us go: come,
Our feparation fo abides and flies,

That thou, refiding here, goeft yet with me,

9 Oh, my oblivion is a very Antony,

And I am all forgotten.] The plain meaning is, My forgetfulness makes me forget my felf. But the expreffes it by calling forgetfulness, Antony; because forgetfulness had forgot her, as Antony had done. For want of apprehending this quaintness of expreffion, the Oxford Editor is forced to tell us news, That all forgotten is an old way of speaking, for apt to forget every thing.

But that your royalty

Holds Idleness your fubject, 1 should take you

For Idleness itself.] i. e. But that your charms hold me, whe am the greatest fool on earth in chains, I should have adjudged you to be the greateft. That this is the fenfe, is fhewn by her answer,

'Tis fweating labour

To bear fuch Idlenefs fo near the heart,
As Cleopatra, this

And

And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee.
Away.

S C E NE V.

[Exeunt.

Changes to Cæfar's Palace in Rome.

Enter Octavius Cæfar reading a letter, Lepidus, and attendants.

OU may

fee, Lepidus, and henceforth know,

Caf. Y It is not Cefar's natural vice to hate

One great competitor. From Alexandria
This is the news; he fifhes, drinks, and waftes
The lamps of night in revel; is not more manly
Than Cleopatra; nor the Queen of Ptolemy
More womanly than he. Hardly gave audience,
Or did vouchsafe to think that he had partners.
You shall there find a man, who is the abstract
Of all faults all men follow.

Lep. I must not think,

They're evils enough to darken all his goodness;
His faults in him feem as the spots of heav'n,
More fiery by night's blackness: hereditary,
Rather than purchaft; what he cannot change,
Than what he chufes.

Caf. You're too indulgent. Let us grant, it is not Amifs to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy,

To give a kingdom for a mirth, to fit

And keep the turn of tipling with a slave,

To reel the streets at noon; and ftand the buffet With knaves that smell of fweat; fay, this becomes

him;

(As his compofure must be rare, indeed,

Whom these things cannot blemish ;) yet must Antony No way excuse his foils, when we do bear

So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd

His vacancy with his voluptuoufnefs;
Full furfeits, and the drinefs of his bones,
Call on him for't. But to confound fuch time,
That drums him from his sport, and speaks as loud
As his own state, and ours; 'tis to be chid,
As we rate boys, who, (a) immature in knowledge,
Pawn their experience to their prefent pleasure,
And fo rebel to judgment.

Enter a Meffenger.

Lep. Here's more news.

Mef. Thy biddings have been done; and every hour, Most noble Cafar, fhalt thou have report How 'tis abroad. Pompey is ftrong at Sea, And, it appears, he is belov'd of those That only have fear'd Cafar: to the ports The Difcontents repair, and mens' reports Give him much wrong'd.

Caf. I fhould have known no lefs;

*It hath been taught us from the primal State, That he, which is, was wifh'd, until he were:

And the ebb'd man, ne'er lov'd till ne'er worth love,

2 It hath been taught us from the primal State,

That he, which is, was wish'd, until he were:

And the ebb'd man, ne'er lov'd till ne'er worth love,
Comes fear'd, by being lack'd.]

Let us examine the fenfe of this in plain profe. The earlief biftories inform us, that the man in fupreme command was always wifh'd to gain that command, till he had obtain'd it. And he, whom the multitude has contentedly feen in a low condition, when be begins to be wanted by them, becomes to be fear'd by them. But do the multitude fear a man, because they want him? Certainly, we must read;

Comes dear'd, by being lack'd.

i. e. endear'd, a favourite to them. Befides, the context requires this reading; for it was not fear, but love, that made the people flock to young Pompey, and what occafion'd this reflexion. So in Coriolanus,

Ifhall be lov'd, when I am lack'd,

[(a) immature in knowledge. Oxford Editor. -- Vulg. being mature in knowledge.]

VOL. VII.

I

Comes