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