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 fhould't know,

There were a heart in Ægypt.

Ant. Hear me, Queen;

The strong neceffity of time commands
Our fervices a-while; but my full heart
* Remains in ufe with you. Our Italy
Shines o'er with civil fwords; Sextus Pompeius
Makes his approaches to the port of Rome.
Equality of two domeftick 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 most with you should fafe my
going,

Is Fulvia's death.

2 Remains in ufe] The poet feems to allude to the legal diftinction between the fe and abfolute poffeffion

3-My more particular,
And that which most with you

fhould fave my going,
Is Fulvia's death.] Thus all
the more modern editions; the
first and fecond folio's read, fafe:
All corruptedly. Antony is giv-
ing feveral reafons to Cleopatra,
which make his departure from
Egypt neceffary; moft of them,

3

Cleo,

reasons of ftate; but the death of Fulvia, his wife, was a particular and private call. Cleopatra is jealous of Antony, and fufpicious that he is feeking colours for his going. Antony replies to her doubts, with the reasons that obliged him to be abfent for a time; and tells her, that, as his wife Fulvia is dead, and so she has no rival to be jealous of, that circumftance fhould be his best plea and excufe, and have the greatest weight with her for his

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

It does from childishness. Can Fulvia die?
Ant. She's dead, my Queen.

Look here, and at thy fovereign leisure read
The garboyls the awak'd; at the laft, beft,
See, when, and where fhe died.

Cleo. O moft falfe love!

Where be the facred vials thou fhouldft fill
With forrowful water? now I see, I see,
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.

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.

Cleo. So Fulvia told me.

I pr'ythee, turn afide, and weep for her;
Then bid adieu to me and fay, the tears

5

Belong to Egypt. Good now, play one Scene
Of excellent diffembling, and let it look
Like perfect honour,

going. Who does not fee now,
that it ought to be read,

fhould falve my going. THEOBALD., Mr. Upton reads, I think rightly,

Safe my going.

4 a moft falfe love!
Where be the facred vials thou

fhouldft fill

With forrowful water? -] Alluding to the lachrymatory vials, or bottles of tears, which the Romans fometimes put into the urn of a friend.

5to Egypt.] To me, the queen of Egypt.

Ant.

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 beft.

Look, pr'ythee, Charmian,

How this Herculean Roman does become

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

• Oh, my oblivion is a very
Antony.

And I am all forgotten.] The
plain meaning is, My forgetfulness
makes me forget myself. But the
expreffes it by calling forgetful-
nfs, Antony; becaufe forgetful-
nes had forgot her, as Antony had
done. For want of apprehend-
ing 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. WARB,

I cannot understand the learned critick's explanation. It appears to me, that the should rather have faid,

For

think a flight change will reftore the paffage. The Queen, having fomething to fay, which the is not able, or would feem not able to recollect, cries out,

my oblivion!-Tis Antony,

a very

The thought of which I was in queft is a very Antony, is treacherous and fugitive, and has irrevocably left me.

And I am all forgotten. If this reading ftand, I think the explanation of Hanmer must be received. But I will venture another change, by reading,

And I am all forgone. I am all deferted and undone. If any regard can be had to exactness of verfification, the measure authorises my reading. 7 But that your royalty Holds Idlenefs your fubje&, I Should take you

For

For Idleness itself.

Cleo. "Tis fweating labour,

To bear fuch idleness 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 sword
Sit laurell'd victory, and fmooth fuccefs
Be ftrew'd before your feet!

Ant. Let us go; come,

Our feparation fo abides and flies,

That thou, refiding here, goest yet with me,
And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee.

Away.

[Exeunt

SCENE V.

Changes to Cæfar's Palace in Rome..

Enter Octavius Cæfar reading a Letter, Lepidus, and

Caf.

Yo

attendants.

OU may fee, Lepidus, and henceforth know,
It is not Cæfar's natural vice to hate
One great competitor. From Alexandria

This is the news; he fifhes, drinks, and wastes
The lamps of night in revel; is not more manly
Than Cleopatra; nor the Queen of Ptotemy

More womanly than he.

Hardly gave audience, or vouchfaf'd to think

That he had partners.

You fhall there find a man,

Who is th' abftract of all faults that all men follow.
Lep. I must not think,

They're evils enough to darken all his goodness;
His faults in him feem as the fpots of heav'n,
More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary,

Rather than purchas'd; 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 fmell of fweat; fay, this becomes 2

him;

As his composure must be rare, indeed,

Whom these things cannot blemish; yet muft Antony No way excufe his foils, when we do bear

3 So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd His vacancy with his voluptuoufness;

9-as the spots of heav'n, More fiery by night's blackness ;] If by fpots are meant ftars, as night has no other fiery spots, the comparison is forced and harfh, ftars having been always fuppofed to beautify the night; nor do I comprehend what there is in the counter part of this fimile, which anfwers to night's blacknefs. Hanmer reads,

Spots on ermine, Or fires, by night's blackness. -purchas'd] Procured by his own fault or endeavour. 2 -fay, this becomes him ;

As his compofure must be rare,
indeed,
Whom these things cannot ble-

mish ;- -] This feems inconfequent, I read,

And his compofure, &c. Grant that this becomes him, and if it can become him, he must have in him something very uncommon ; yet, &c.

3 So great weight in his lightnefs. The word light is one of Shakespeare's favourite play-things. The fenfe is," His trifling levity throws fo much burden upon us.

Full