you here: I have no power upon you; hers you are. The gods best know,-- O, never was there queen So mightily betray'd! yet at the first I saw the treasons planted. Cleopatra,-- Why should I think you can be mine and true, Though you in swearing shake the throned gods, Who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous madness, To be entangled with those mouth-made vows, Which break themselves in swearing! Most sweet queen,-- Nay, pray you, seek no colour for your going, But bid farewell, and go: when you sued staying, Then was the time for words: no going then; Eternity was in our lips and eyes, Bliss in our brows' bent; none our parts so poor, But was a race of heaven: they are so still, Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world, Art turn'd the greatest liar. How now, lady! I would I had thy inches; thou shouldst know There were a heart in Egypt. Hear me, queen: The strong necessity of time commands Our services awhile; but my full heart Remains in use with you. Our Italy Shines o'er with civil swords: Sextus Pompeius Makes his approaches to the port of Rome: Equality of two domestic powers Breed scrupulous faction: the hated, grown to strength, Are newly grown to love: the condemn'd Pompey, Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace, Into the hearts of such as have not thrived Upon the present state, whose numbers threaten; And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge By any desperate change: my more particular, And that which most with you should safe my going, Is Fulvia's death. Though age from folly could not give me freedom, It does from childishness: can Fulvia die? She's dead, my queen: Look here, and at thy sovereign leisure read The garboils she awaked; at the last, best: See when and where she died. O most false love! Where be the sacred vials thou shouldst fill With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see, In Fulvia's death, how mine received shall be. Quarrel no more, but be prepared to know The purposes I bear; which are, or cease, As you shall give the advice. By the fire That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence Thy soldier, servant; making peace or war As thou affect'st. Cut my lace, Charmian, come; But let it be: I am quickly ill, and well, So Antony loves. My precious queen, forbear; And give true evidence to his love, which stands An honourable trial. So Fulvia told me