_Vent._ You do not know How weak you are to her, how much an infant; You are not proof against a smile, or glance; A sigh will quite disarm you. _Ant._ See, she comes! Now you shall find your error.--Gods, I thank you: I formed the danger greater than it was, And now 'tis near, 'tis lessened. _Vent._ Mark the end yet. _Enter_ CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, _and_ IRAS. _Ant._ Well, madam, we are met. _Cleo._ Is this a meeting? Then, we must part? _Ant._ We must. _Cleo._ Who says we must? _Ant._ Our own hard fates. _Cleo._ We make those fates ourselves. _Ant._ Yes, we have made them; we have loved each other In our mutual ruin. _Cleo._ The gods have seen my joys with envious eyes; I have no friends in heaven; and all the world, As 'twere the business of mankind to part us, Is armed against my love: even you yourself Join with the rest; you, you are armed against me. _Ant._ I will be justified in all I do To late posterity, and therefore hear me. If I mix a lie With any truth, reproach me freely with it; Else, favour me with silence. _Cleo._ You command me, And I am dumb. _Vent._ I like this well: he shews authority. _Ant._ That I derive my ruin From you alone-- _Cleo._ O heavens! I ruin you! _Ant._ You promised me your silence, and you break it Ere I have scarce begun. _Cleo._ Well, I obey you. _Ant._ When I beheld you first, it was in Egypt. Ere Caesar saw your eyes, you gave me love, And were too young to know it; that I settled Your father in his throne, was for your sake; I left the acknowledgment for time to ripen. Caesar stept in, and, with a greedy hand, Plucked the green fruit, ere the first blush of red, Yet cleaving to the bough. He was my lord, And was, beside, too great for me to rival; But, I deserved you first, though he enjoyed you. When, after, I beheld you in Cilicia, An enemy to Rome, I pardoned you. _Cleo._ I cleared myself-- _Ant._ Again you break your promise. I loved you still, and took your weak excuses, Took you into my bosom, stained by Caesar, And not half mine: I went to Egypt with you, And hid me from the business of the world, Shut out enquiring nations from my sight, To give whole years to you. _Vent._ Yes, to your shame be't spoken. [_Aside._ _Ant._ How I loved, Witness, ye days and nights, and all ye hours, That danced away with down upon your feet, As all your business were to count my passion! One day past by, and nothing saw but love; Another came, and still 'twas only love: The suns were wearied out with looking on, And I untired with loving. I saw you every day, and all the day; And every day was still but as the first, So eager was I still to see you more. _Vent._ 'Tis all too true. _Ant._ Fulvia, my wife, grew jealous, As she indeed had reason; raised a war In Italy, to call me back. _Vent._ But yet You went not. _Ant._ While within your arms I lay, The world fell mouldering from my hands each hour, And left me scarce a grasp--I thank your love for't.