_Alex._ Octavia's gone, and Dolabella banished. Believe me, madam, Antony is yours. His heart was never lost; but started off To jealousy, love's last retreat and covert; Where it lies hid in shades, watchful in silence, And listening for the sound that calls it back. Some other, any man, ('tis so advanced) May perfect this unfinished work, which I (Unhappy only to myself) have left So easy to his hand. _Cleo._ Look well thou do't; else-- _Alex._ Else, what your silence threatens.--Antony Is mounted up the Pharos; from whose turret, He stands surveying our Egyptian gallies, Engaged with Caesar's fleet. Now death or conquest! If the first happen, fate acquits my promise; If we o'ercome, the conqueror is yours. [_A distant shout within._ _Char._ Have comfort, madam: Did you mark that shout? [_Second shout nearer._ _Iras._ Hark! they redouble it. _Alex._ 'Tis from the port. The loudness shows it near: Good news, kind heavens! _Cleo._ Osiris make it so! _Enter_ SERAPION. _Serap._ Where, where's the queen? _Alex._ How frightfully the holy coward stares! As if not yet recovered of the assault, When all his gods, and, what's more dear to him, His offerings, were at stake. _Serap._ O horror, horror! Egypt has been; our latest hour is come: The queen of nations, from her ancient seat, Is sunk for ever in the dark abyss: Time has unrolled her glories to the last, And now closed up the volume. _Cleo._ Be more plain: Say, whence thou comest; though fate is in thy face, Which from thy hagard eyes looks wildly out, And threatens ere thou speakest. _Serap._ I came from Pharos; From viewing (spare me, and imagine it) Our land's last hope, your navy-- _Cleo._ Vanquished? _Serap._ No; They fought not. _Cleo._ Then they fled. _Serap._ Nor that. I saw, With Antony, your well-appointed fleet Row out; and thrice he waved his hand on high, And thrice with cheerful cries they shouted back: 'Twas then false Fortune, like a fawning strumpet, About to leave the bankrupt prodigal, With a dissembled smile would kiss at parting, And flatter to the last; the well-timed oars Now dipt from every bank, now smoothly run To meet the foe; and soon indeed they met, But not as foes. In few, we saw their caps On either side thrown up; the Egyptian gallies, Received like friends, past through, and fell behind The Roman rear: And now, they all come forward, And ride within the port, _Cleo._ Enough, Serapion: I've heard my doom.--This needed not, you gods: When I lost Antony, your work was done; 'Tis but superfluous malice.--Where's my lord? How bears he this last blow? _Serap._ His fury cannot be expressed by words: Thrice he attempted headlong to have fallen Full on his foes, and aimed at Caesar's galley: With-held, he raves on you; cries,--He's betrayed. Should he now find you-- _Alex._ Shun him; seek your safety, Till you can clear your innocence. _Cleo._ I'll stay.