_Lu._ Beleeue it not: Too high a heart she beares, Too Princelie thoughts. _Ant._ Too wise a head she weare Too much enflam’d with greatnes, euermore Gaping for our great Empires gouerment. _Lu._ So long time you her constant loue haue tri’de. _Ant._ But still with me good fortune did abide. _Lu._ Her changed loue what token makes you know? _An._ _Pelusium_ lost, and _Actian_ ouerthrow, Both by her fraud: my well appointed fleet, And trustie Souldiors in my quarell arm’d, Whom she, false she, in stede of my defence, Came to persuade, to yelde them to my foe: Such honor _Thyre_ done, such welcome giuen, Their long close talkes I neither knew, nor would, And treacherouse wrong _Alexas_ hath me done, Witnes too well her periur’d loue to me. But you O Gods (if any faith regarde) With sharpe reuenge her faithles change reward. _Lu._ The dole she made vpon our ouerthrow, Her Realme giuen vp for refuge to our men, Her poore attire when she deuoutly kept The solemne day of her natiuitie, Againe the cost, and prodigall expence Shew’d when she did your birth day celebrate, Do plaine enough her heart vnfained proue, Equally toucht, you louing, as you loue. _Ant._ Well; be her loue to me or false, or true, Once in my soule a cureles wound I feele. I loue, nay burne in fire of her loue: Each day, each night her Image haunts my minde, Her selfe my dreams: and still I tired am, And still I am with burning pincers nipt. Extreame my harme: yet sweeter to my sence Then boiling Torch of iealouse torments fire: This grief, nay rage, in me such sturre doth kepe, And thornes me still, both when I wake and slepe. Take _Cæsar_ conquest, take my goods, take he Th’onor to be Lord of the earth alone, My Sonnes, my life bent headlong to mishapps: No force, so not my _Cleopatra_ take. So foolish I, I can not her forget, Though better were I banisht her my thought. Like to the sicke, whose throte the feauers fire Hath vehemently with thirstie drouth enflam’d, Drinkes still, albee the drinke he still desires Be nothing else but fewell to his flame: He can not rule himselfe: his health’s respect Yeldeth to his distempred stomackes heate. _Lu._ Leaue of this loue, that thus renewes your woe. _Ant._ I do my best, but ah! can not do so. _Lu._ Thinke how you haue so braue a captaine bene, And now are by this vaine affection falne.