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SCENE VI.
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SCENE VI.

Enter Cleopatra, Mardian, Alexas, Charmian, Iras, &c.
Ant.
Loth am I to give breathing to my purpose.

Cleo.
Now do I know, by that same Roman there,
There's some new colour found, to varnish falsehood.
You would be gone—is it not so, Mark Antony?
Why came you hither, to betray fond hearts,
With mouth-made vows, that break themselves in binding?
Let not the Romans say, 'tis I that keep you—
I have no power upon you!

Ant.
The gods can witness—

Cleo.
Nay—pray you, seek no colour for your going,
But bid farewell, and go.—When you sued staying,

344

Then was your time for words—No going, then—
Eternity was in our lips and eyes,
Bliss in our lifted brow; no part so poor,
But was the breed of heaven—They are so still;
Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world,
Art turned the greatest lyar.

Ant.
Will you hear me?
The strong necessity of the time commands
My services awhile.—

Cleo.
I know, I know it.
That you have staid so long, there rests the wonder.
For what are Roman oaths, tho' nail'd in heaven?
I would it pleas'd the gods I might rejoice;
For you and I must part—but that's not it.
Yet you and I have loved—but that's not it.
Perhaps you know—Something it is I would,
But cannot—
O me!—Oblivion is a very Antony,
And I am all forgotten.

Ant.
Quarrel no more; but, like yourself, support
What fate lays on us—By the living fire,
That lights up nature! I do go from hence,
Your husband, soldier, servant, making peace
Or war, as you affect.

Cleo.
Ah, Antony!
Have I another lord to guard my weakness?
Or where, else, shall my orphan'd little ones
Look out to find a father?—But, no matter!
Your honour, sir, your honour calls you hence,—
Therefore be deaf to our unpitied wailings;
And all the gods go with you!—On your sword

345

Sit laurel'd victory, and smooth success
Be strew'd before your feet!

Ant.
O—then I feel,
'Tis time to break at once; or we are both,
Both lost, for ever!

[Going, Cleopatra suddenly throws herself on one knee, and catches his robe.
Cleo.
Ah! would you,
Would you, indeed?—Would you then leave me, Antony?

Ant.
But for a season, dearest!—to return,
With rapture multiplied.—
Even as the bow, when strain'd against the temper,
Shoots swifter to its mark!

Cleo.
I could not bear it—
Fancy was not prepared for such a ruin!
You will not—must not,—cannot!—

Ant.
Help, Demetrius!
She winds about my heart!—Help, Enobarbus!
An engine grapples me at every limb,
And every engine is a Cleopatra.

Cleo.
Do, cruel Romans, wrench him, tear him from me.
Fly, Charmian, call my children to assist me!
[Exit Charmian.
Since that the cords of love are not of force,
Let those of nature bind you!—Bring my children.

Ant.
Great father Hercules, confirm your offspring!