as our earing. Fare thee well awhile.
At your noble pleasure.
From Sicyon, ho, the news! Speak there!
The man from Sicyon,--is there such an one?
He stays upon your will.
Let him appear.
These strong Egyptian fetters I must break,
Or lose myself in dotage.
What are you?
Fulvia thy wife is dead.
Where died she?
In Sicyon:
Her length of sickness, with what else more serious
Importeth thee to know, this bears.
Forbear me.
There's a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it:
What our contempt doth often hurl from us,
We wish it ours again; the present pleasure,
By revolution lowering, does become
The opposite of itself: she's good, being gone;
The hand could pluck her back that shoved her on.
I must from this enchanting queen break off:
Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know,
My idleness doth hatch. How now! Enobarbus!
What's your pleasure, sir?
I must with haste from hence.
Why, then, we kill all our women:
we see how mortal an unkindness is to them;
if they suffer our departure, death's the word.
I must be gone.
Under a compelling occasion, let women die; it were
pity to cast them away for nothing; though, between
them and a great cause, they should be esteemed
nothing. Cleopatra, catching but the least noise of
this, dies instantly; I have seen her die twenty
times upon far poorer moment: I do think there is
mettle in death, which commits some loving act upon
her, she hath such a celerity in dying.
She is cunning past man's thought.
Alack, sir, no; her passions are made of nothing but
the finest part of pure love: we cannot call her
winds and waters sighs and tears; they are greater
storms and tempests than almanacs can report: this
cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a
shower of rain as well as Jove.
Would I had never seen her.
O, sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece
of work; which not to have been blest withal would
have discredited your travel.
Fulvia is dead.
Sir?
Fulvia is dead.
Fulvia!
Dead.
Why, sir, give the gods a thankful sacrifice. When
it pleaseth their deities to take the wife of a man
from him, it shows to man the tailors of the earth;
comforting therein, that when old robes are worn
out, there are members to make new. If there were
no more women but Fulvia, then had you indeed a cut,
and the case to be