SCENE: The Roman Empire  ACT I. SCENE I. Alexandria. CLEOPATRA'S palace  Enter DEMETRIUS and PHILO    PHILO. Nay, but this dotage of our general's     O'erflows the measure. Those his goodly eyes,     That o'er the files and musters of the war     Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now turn,     The office and devotion of their view     Upon a tawny front. His captain's heart,     Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst     The buckles on his breast, reneges all temper,     And is become the bellows and the fan     To cool a gipsy's lust.       Flourish. Enter ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, her LADIES, the train,                     with eunuchs fanning her      Look where they come!     Take but good note, and you shall see in him     The triple pillar of the world transform'd     Into a strumpet's fool. Behold and see.   CLEOPATRA. If it be love indeed, tell me how much.   ANTONY. There's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd.   CLEOPATRA. I'll set a bourn how far to be belov'd.   ANTONY. Then must thou needs find out new heaven, new earth.                         Enter a MESSENGER    MESSENGER. News, my good lord, from Rome.   ANTONY. Grates me the sum.   CLEOPATRA. Nay, hear them, Antony.     Fulvia perchance is angry; or who knows     If the scarce-bearded Caesar have not sent     His pow'rful mandate to you: 'Do this or this;     Take in that kingdom and enfranchise that;     Perform't, or else we damn thee.'   ANTONY. How, my love?   CLEOPATRA. Perchance? Nay, and most like,     You must not stay here longer; your dismission     Is come from Caesar; therefore hear it, Antony.     Where's Fulvia's process? Caesar's I would say? Both?     Call in the messengers. As I am Egypt's Queen,     Thou blushest, Antony, and that blood of thine     Is Caesar's homager. Else so thy cheek pays shame     When shrill-tongu'd Fulvia scolds. The messengers!   ANTONY. Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch     Of the rang'd empire fall! Here is my space.     Kingdoms are clay; our dungy earth alike     Feeds beast as man. The nobleness of life     Is to do thus [emhracing], when such a mutual pair     And such a twain can do't, in which I bind,     On pain of punishment, the world to weet     We stand up peerless.   CLEOPATRA. Excellent falsehood!     Why did he marry Fulvia, and not love her?     I'll seem the fool I am not. Antony     Will be himself.   ANTONY. But stirr'd by Cleopatra.     Now for the love of Love and her soft hours,     Let's not confound the time with conference harsh;     There's not a minute of our lives should stretch     Without some pleasure now. What sport to-night?   CLEOPATRA. Hear the ambassadors.   ANTONY. Fie, wrangling queen!     Whom everything becomes- to chide, to laugh,     To weep; whose every passion fully strives     To make itself in thee fair and admir'd.     No messenger but thine, and all alone     To-night we'll wander through the streets and note     The qualities of people. Come, my queen;     Last night you did desire it. Speak not to us.                      Exeunt ANTONY and CLEOPATRA, with the train   DEMETRIUS. Is Caesar with Antonius priz'd so slight?   PHILO. Sir, sometimes when he is not Antony,     He comes too short of that great property     Which still should go with Antony.   DEMETRIUS. I am full sorry     That he approves the common liar, who     Thus speaks of him at Rome; but I will hope     Of better deeds to-morrow. Rest you happy!            Exeunt     SCENE II. Alexandria. CLEOPATRA'S palace  Enter CHARMIAN, IRAS, ALEXAS, and a SOOTHSAYER    CHARMIAN. Lord Alexas, sweet Alexas, most anything Alexas, almost     most absolute Alexas, where's the soothsayer that you prais'd so     to th' Queen? O that I knew this husband, which you say must     charge his horns with garlands!   ALEXAS. Soothsayer!   SOOTHSAYER. Your will?   CHARMIAN. Is this the man? Is't you, sir, that know things?   SOOTHSAYER. In nature's infinite book of secrecy     A little I can read.   ALEXAS. Show him your hand.                         Enter ENOBARBUS    ENOBARBUS. Bring in the banquet quickly; wine enough     Cleopatra's health to drink.   CHARMIAN. Good, sir, give me good fortune.   SOOTHSAYER. I make not, but foresee.   CHARMIAN. Pray, then, foresee me one.   SOOTHSAYER. You shall be yet far fairer than you are.   CHARMIAN. He means in flesh.   IRAS. No, you shall paint when you are old.   CHARMIAN. Wrinkles forbid!   ALEXAS. Vex not his prescience; be attentive.   CHARMIAN. Hush!   SOOTHSAYER. You shall be more beloving than beloved.   CHARMIAN. I had rather heat my liver with drinking.   ALEXAS. Nay, hear him.   CHARMIAN. Good now, some excellent fortune! Let me be married to     three kings in a forenoon, and widow them all. Let me have a     child at fifty, to whom Herod of Jewry may do homage. Find me to     marry me with Octavius Caesar, and companion me with my mistress.   SOOTHSAYER. You shall outlive the lady whom you serve.   CHARMIAN. O, excellent! I love long life better than figs.   SOOTHSAYER. You have seen and prov'd a fairer former fortune     Than that which is to approach.   CHARMIAN. Then belike my children shall have no names.     Prithee, how many boys and wenches must I have?   SOOTHSAYER. If every of your wishes had a womb,     And fertile every wish, a million.   CHARMIAN. Out, fool! I forgive thee for a witch.   ALEXAS. You think none but your sheets are privy to your wishes.   CHARMIAN. Nay, come, tell Iras hers.   ALEXAS. We'll know all our fortunes.   ENOBARBUS. Mine, and most of our fortunes, to-night, shall be-     drunk to bed.   IRAS. There's a palm presages chastity, if nothing else.   CHARMIAN. E'en as the o'erflowing Nilus presageth famine.   IRAS. Go, you wild bedfellow, you cannot soothsay.   CHARMIAN. Nay, if an oily palm be not a fruitful prognostication, I     cannot scratch mine ear. Prithee, tell her but worky-day fortune.   SOOTHSAYER. Your fortunes are alike.   IRAS. But how, but how? Give me particulars.   SOOTHSAYER. I have said.   IRAS. Am I not an inch of fortune better than she?   CHARMIAN. Well, if you were but an inch of fortune better than I,     where would you choose it?   IRAS. Not in my husband's nose.   CHARMIAN. Our worser thoughts heavens mend! Alexas- come, his     fortune, his fortune! O, let him marry a woman that cannot go,     sweet Isis, I beseech thee! And let her die too, and give him a     worse! And let worse follow worse, till the worst of all follow     him laughing to his grave, fiftyfold a cuckold! Good Isis, hear     me this prayer, though thou deny me a matter of more weight; good     Isis, I beseech thee!   IRAS. Amen. Dear goddess, hear that prayer of the people! For, as     it is a heartbreaking to see a handsome man loose-wiv'd, so it is     a deadly sorrow to behold a foul knave uncuckolded. Therefore,     dear Isis, keep decorum, and fortune him accordingly!   CHARMIAN. Amen.   ALEXAS. Lo now, if it lay in their hands to make me a cuckold, they     would make themselves whores but they'ld do't!                            Enter CLEOPATRA    ENOBARBUS. Hush! Here comes Antony.   CHARMIAN. Not he; the Queen.   CLEOPATRA. Saw you my lord?   ENOBARBUS. No, lady.   CLEOPATRA. Was he not here?   CHARMIAN. No, madam.   CLEOPATRA. He was dispos'd to mirth; but on the sudden     A Roman thought hath struck him. Enobarbus!   ENOBARBUS. Madam?   CLEOPATRA. Seek him, and bring him hither. Where's Alexas?   ALEXAS. Here, at your service. My lord approaches.            Enter ANTONY, with a MESSENGER and attendants    CLEOPATRA. We will not look upon him. Go with us.                        Exeunt CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUS, and the rest   MESSENGER. Fulvia thy wife first came into the field.   ANTONY. Against my brother Lucius?   MESSENGER. Ay.     But soon that war had end, and the time's state     Made friends of them, jointing their force 'gainst Caesar,     Whose better issue in the war from Italy     Upon the first encounter drave them.   ANTONY. Well, what worst?   MESSENGER. The nature of bad news infects the teller.   ANTONY. When it concerns the fool or coward. On!     Things that are past are done with me. 'Tis thus:     Who tells me true, though in his tale lie death,     I hear him as he flatter'd.   MESSENGER. Labienus-     This is stiff news- hath with his Parthian force     Extended Asia from Euphrates,     His conquering banner shook from Syria     To Lydia and to Ionia,     Whilst-   ANTONY. Antony, thou wouldst say.   MESSENGER. O, my lord!   ANTONY. Speak to me home; mince not the general tongue;     Name Cleopatra as she is call'd in Rome.     Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase, and taunt my faults     With such full licence as both truth and malice     Have power to utter. O, then we bring forth weeds     When our quick minds lie still, and our ills told us     Is as our earing. Fare thee well awhile.   MESSENGER. At your noble pleasure.                        Exit   ANTONY. From Sicyon, ho, the news! Speak there!   FIRST ATTENDANT. The man from Sicyon- is there such an one?   SECOND ATTENDANT. He stays upon your will.   ANTONY. Let him appear.     These strong Egyptian fetters I must break,     Or lose myself in dotage.                   Enter another MESSENGER with a letter      What are you?   SECOND MESSENGER. Fulvia thy wife is dead.   ANTONY. Where died she?   SECOND MESSENGER. In Sicyon.     Her length of sickness, with what else more serious     Importeth thee to know, this bears.       [Gives the letter]   ANTONY. Forbear me.                             Exit MESSENGER     There's a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it.     What our contempts doth often hurl from us     We wish it ours again; the present pleasure,     By revolution low'ring, does become     The opposite of itself. She's good, being gone;     The hand could pluck her back that shov'd 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!                      Re-enter ENOBARBUS    ENOBARBUS. What's your pleasure, sir?   ANTONY. I must with haste from hence.   ENOBARBUS. 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.   ANTONY. I must be gone.   ENOBARBUS. 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.   ANTONY. She is cunning past man's thought.   ENOBARBUS. 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 show'r of rain as well as Jove.   ANTONY. Would I had never seen her!   ENOBARBUS. O Sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece of     work, which not to have been blest withal would have discredited     your travel.   ANTONY. Fulvia is dead.   ENOBARBUS. Sir?   ANTONY. Fulvia is dead.   ENOBARBUS. Fulvia?   ANTONY. Dead.   ENOBARBUS. 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 lamented. This grief is crown'd with     consolation: your old smock brings forth a new petticoat; and     indeed the tears live in an onion that should water this sorrow.   ANTONY. The business she hath broached in the state     Cannot endure my absence.   ENOBARBUS. And the business you have broach'd here cannot be     without you; especially that of Cleopatra's, which wholly depends     on your abode.   ANTONY. No more light answers. Let our officers     Have notice what we purpose. I shall break     The cause of our expedience to the Queen,     And get her leave to part. For not alone     The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches,     Do strongly speak to us; but the letters to     Of many our contriving friends in Rome     Petition us at home. Sextus Pompeius     Hath given the dare to Caesar, and commands     The empire of the sea; our slippery people,     Whose love is never link'd to the deserver     Till his deserts are past, begin to throw     Pompey the Great and all his dignities     Upon his son; who, high in name and power,     Higher than both in blood and life, stands up     For the main soldier; whose quality, going on,     The sides o' th' world may danger. Much is breeding     Which, like the courser's hair, hath yet but life     And not a serpent's poison. Say our pleasure,     To such whose place is under us, requires     Our quick remove from hence.   ENOBARBUS. I shall do't.                                Exeunt     SCENE III. Alexandria. CLEOPATRA'S palace  Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS    CLEOPATRA. Where is he?   CHARMIAN. I did not see him since.   CLEOPATRA. See where he is, who's with him, what he does.     I did not send you. If you find him sad,     Say I am dancing; if in mirth, report     That I am sudden sick. Quick, and return.        Exit ALEXAS   CHARMIAN. Madam, methinks, if you did love him dearly,     You do not hold the method to enforce     The like from him.   CLEOPATRA. What should I do I do not?   CHARMIAN. In each thing give him way; cross him in nothing.   CLEOPATRA. Thou teachest like a fool- the way to lose him.   CHARMIAN. Tempt him not so too far; I wish, forbear;     In time we hate that which we often fear.                              Enter ANTONY      But here comes Antony.   CLEOPATRA. I am sick and sullen.   ANTONY. I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose-   CLEOPATRA. Help me away, dear Charmian; I shall fall.     It cannot be thus long; the sides of nature     Will not sustain it.   ANTONY. Now, my dearest queen-   CLEOPATRA. Pray you, stand farther from me.   ANTONY. What's the matter?   CLEOPATRA. I know by that same eye there's some good news.     What says the married woman? You may go.     Would she had never given you leave to come!     Let her not say 'tis I that keep you here-     I have no power upon you; hers you are.   ANTONY. The gods best know-   CLEOPATRA. O, never was there queen     So mightily betray'd! Yet at the first     I saw the treasons planted.   ANTONY. Cleopatra-   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!   ANTONY. Most sweet queen-   CLEOPATRA. 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.   ANTONY. How now, lady!   CLEOPATRA. I would I had thy inches. Thou shouldst know     There were a heart in Egypt.   ANTONY. 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.   CLEOPATRA. Though age from folly could not give me freedom,      It does from childishness. Can Fulvia die?   ANTONY. She's dead, my Queen.     Look here, and at thy sovereign leisure read     The garboils she awak'd. At the last, best.     See when and where she died.   CLEOPATRA. 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 receiv'd shall be.   ANTONY. Quarrel no more, but be prepar'd to know     The purposes I bear; which are, or cease,     As you shall give th' advice. By the fire     That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence     Thy soldier, servant, making peace or war     As thou affects.   CLEOPATRA. Cut my lace, Charmian, come!     But let it be; I am quickly ill and well-     So Antony loves.   ANTONY. My precious queen, forbear,     And give true evidence to his love, which stands     An honourable trial.   CLEOPATRA. So Fulvia told me.     I prithee turn aside and weep for her;     Then bid adieu to me, and say the tears     Belong to Egypt. Good now, play one scene     Of excellent dissembling, and let it look     Like perfect honour.   ANTONY. You'll heat my blood; no more.   CLEOPATRA. You can do better yet; but this is meetly.   ANTONY. Now, by my sword-   CLEOPATRA. And target. Still he mends;     But this is not the best. Look, prithee, Charmian,     How this Herculean Roman does become     The carriage of his chafe.   ANTONY. I'll leave you, lady.   CLEOPATRA. 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. Something it is I would-     O, my oblivion is a very Antony,     And I am all forgotten!   ANTONY. But that your royalty     Holds idleness your subject, I should take you     For idleness itself.   CLEOPATRA. 'Tis sweating labour     To bear such idleness so 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! Upon your sword     Sit laurel victory, and smooth success     Be strew'd before your feet!   ANTONY. Let us go. Come.     Our separation so abides and flies     That thou, residing here, goes yet with me,     And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee.     Away!                                                 Exeunt     SCENE IV. Rome. CAESAR'S house  Enter OCTAVIUS CAESAR, reading a letter; LEPIDUS, and their train    CAESAR. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know,     It is not Caesar's natural vice to hate     Our great competitor. From Alexandria     This is the news: he fishes, drinks, and wastes     The lamps of night in revel; is not more manlike     Than Cleopatra, nor the queen of Ptolemy     More womanly than he; hardly gave audience, or     Vouchsaf'd to think he had partners. You shall find there     A man who is the abstract of all faults     That all men follow.   LEPIDUS. I must not think there are     Evils enow to darken all his goodness.     His faults, in him, seem as the spots of heaven,     More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary     Rather than purchas'd; what he cannot change     Than what he chooses.   CAESAR. You are too indulgent. Let's grant it is not     Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy,     To give a kingdom for a mirth, to sit     And keep the turn of tippling with a slave,     To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet     With knaves that smell of sweat. Say this becomes him-     As his composure must be rare indeed     Whom these things cannot blemish- yet must Antony     No way excuse his foils when we do bear     So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd     His vacancy with his voluptuousness,     Full surfeits and the dryness of his bones     Call on him for't! But to confound such time     That drums him from his sport and speaks as loud     As his own state and ours- 'tis to be chid     As we rate boys who, being mature in knowledge,     Pawn their experience to their present pleasure,     And so rebel to judgment.                     Enter a MESSENGER    LEPIDUS. Here's more news.   MESSENGER. Thy biddings have been done; and every hour,     Most noble Caesar, shalt thou have report     How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea,     And it appears he is belov'd of those     That only have fear'd Caesar. To the ports     The discontents repair, and men's reports     Give him much wrong'd.   CAESAR. I should have known no less.     It hath been taught us from the primal state     That he which is was wish'd until he were;     And the ebb'd man, ne'er lov'd till ne'er worth love,     Comes dear'd by being lack'd. This common body,     Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream,     Goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide,     To rot itself with motion.   MESSENGER. Caesar, I bring thee word     Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates,     Make the sea serve them, which they ear and wound     With keels of every kind. Many hot inroads     They make in Italy; the borders maritime     Lack blood to think on't, and flush youth revolt.     No vessel can peep forth but 'tis as soon     Taken as seen; for Pompey's name strikes more     Than could his war resisted.   CAESAR. Antony,     Leave thy lascivious wassails. When thou once     Was beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st     Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel     Did famine follow; whom thou fought'st against,     Though daintily brought up, with patience more     Than savages could suffer. Thou didst drink     The stale of horses and the gilded puddle     Which beasts would cough at. Thy palate then did deign     The roughest berry on the rudest hedge;     Yea, like the stag when snow the pasture sheets,     The barks of trees thou brows'd. On the Alps     It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh,     Which some did die to look on. And all this-     It wounds thine honour that I speak it now-     Was borne so like a soldier that thy cheek     So much as lank'd not.   LEPIDUS. 'Tis pity of him.   CAESAR. Let his shames quickly     Drive him to Rome. 'Tis time we twain     Did show ourselves i' th' field; and to that end     Assemble we immediate council. Pompey     Thrives in our idleness.   LEPIDUS. To-morrow, Caesar,     I shall be furnish'd to inform you rightly     Both what by sea and land I can be able     To front this present time.   CAESAR. Till which encounter     It is my business too. Farewell.   LEPIDUS. Farewell, my lord. What you shall know meantime     Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir,     To let me be partaker.   CAESAR. Doubt not, sir;     I knew it for my bond.                                Exeunt     SCENE V. Alexandria. CLEOPATRA'S palace  Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN    CLEOPATRA. Charmian!   CHARMIAN. Madam?   CLEOPATRA. Ha, ha!     Give me to drink mandragora.   CHARMIAN. Why, madam?   CLEOPATRA. That I might sleep out this great gap of time     My Antony is away.   CHARMIAN. You think of him too much.   CLEOPATRA. O, 'tis treason!   CHARMIAN. Madam, I trust, not so.   CLEOPATRA. Thou, eunuch Mardian!   MARDIAN. What's your Highness' pleasure?   CLEOPATRA. Not now to hear thee sing; I take no pleasure     In aught an eunuch has. 'Tis well for thee     That, being unseminar'd, thy freer thoughts     May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou affections?   MARDIAN. Yes, gracious madam.   CLEOPATRA. Indeed?   MARDIAN. Not in deed, madam; for I can do nothing     But what indeed is honest to be done.     Yet have I fierce affections, and think     What Venus did with Mars.   CLEOPATRA. O Charmian,     Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he or sits he?     Or does he walk? or is he on his horse?     O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony!     Do bravely, horse; for wot'st thou whom thou mov'st?     The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm     And burgonet of men. He's speaking now,     Or murmuring 'Where's my serpent of old Nile?'     For so he calls me. Now I feed myself     With most delicious poison. Think on me,     That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black,     And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Caesar,     When thou wast here above the ground, I was     A morsel for a monarch; and great Pompey     Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow;     There would he anchor his aspect and die     With looking on his life.                           Enter ALEXAS    ALEXAS. Sovereign of Egypt, hail!   CLEOPATRA. How much unlike art thou Mark Antony!     Yet, coming from him, that great med'cine hath     With his tinct gilded thee.     How goes it with my brave Mark Antony?   ALEXAS. Last thing he did, dear Queen,     He kiss'd- the last of many doubled kisses-     This orient pearl. His speech sticks in my heart.   CLEOPATRA. Mine ear must pluck it thence.   ALEXAS. 'Good friend,' quoth he     'Say the firm Roman to great Egypt sends     This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot,     To mend the petty present, I will piece     Her opulent throne with kingdoms. All the East,     Say thou, shall call her mistress.' So he nodded,     And soberly did mount an arm-gaunt steed,     Who neigh'd so high that what I would have spoke     Was beastly dumb'd by him.   CLEOPATRA. What, was he sad or merry?   ALEXAS. Like to the time o' th' year between the extremes     Of hot and cold; he was nor sad nor merry.   CLEOPATRA. O well-divided disposition! Note him,     Note him, good Charmian; 'tis the man; but note him!     He was not sad, for he would shine on those     That make their looks by his; he was not merry,     Which seem'd to tell them his remembrance lay     In Egypt with his joy; but between both.     O heavenly mingle! Be'st thou sad or merry,     The violence of either thee becomes,     So does it no man else. Met'st thou my posts?   ALEXAS. Ay, madam, twenty several messengers.     Why do you send so thick?   CLEOPATRA. Who's born that day     When I forget to send to Antony     Shall die a beggar. Ink and paper, Charmian.     Welcome, my good Alexas. Did I, Charmian,     Ever love Caesar so?   CHARMIAN. O that brave Caesar!   CLEOPATRA. Be chok'd with such another emphasis!     Say 'the brave Antony.'   CHARMIAN. The valiant Caesar!   CLEOPATRA. By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth     If thou with Caesar paragon again     My man of men.   CHARMIAN. By your most gracious pardon,     I sing but after you.   CLEOPATRA. My salad days,     When I was green in judgment, cold in blood,     To say as I said then. But come, away!     Get me ink and paper.     He shall have every day a several greeting,     Or I'll unpeople Egypt.                               Exeunt