ACT I.
2. SCENE II. Alexandria. Another Room in CLEOPATRA'S palace.
 (continued)
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 broached 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 too
 
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' the 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.] 
 
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