Vent. Not see him, say you?  I say, I must, and will.

Gent. He has commanded, On pain of death, none should approach his presence.

Vent. I bring him news will raise his drooping spirits, Give him new life.

Gent. He sees not Cleopatra.

Vent. Would he had never seen her!

Gent. He eats not, drinks not, sleeps not, has no use
Of any thing, but thought; or, if he talks,
’Tis to himself, and then ’tis perfect raving: 
Then he defies the world, and bids it pass;
Sometimes he gnaws his lip, and curses loud
The boy Octavius; then he draws his mouth
Into a scornful smile, and cries,—­“Take all,
The world’s not worth my care.”

Vent. Just, just his nature. 
Virtue’s his path; but sometimes ’tis too narrow
For his vast soul; and then he starts out wide,
And bounds into a vice, that bears him far
From his first course, and plunges him in ills: 
But, when his danger makes him find his fault,
Quick to observe, and full of sharp remorse,
He censures eagerly his own misdeeds,
Judging himself with malice to himself,
And not forgiving what as man he did,
Because his other parts are more than man.—­
He must not thus be lost. [ALEXAS and the Priests come forward.

Alex. You have your full instructions, now advance; Proclaim your orders loudly.

Serap. Romans, Egyptians, hear the queen’s command. 
Thus Cleopatra bids:  Let labour cease;
To pomp and triumphs give this happy day,
That gave the world a lord:  ’tis Antony’s. 
Live, Antony; and Cleopatra live! 
Be this the general voice sent up to heaven,
And every public place repeat this echo.

Vent. Fine pageantry! [Aside.

Serap. Set before your doors
The images of all your sleeping fathers,
With laurels crowned; with laurels wreath your posts,
And strew with flowers the pavement; let the priests
Do present sacrifice; pour out the wine,
And call the gods to join with you in gladness.

Vent. Curse on the tongue that bids this general joy! 
Can they be friends of Antony, who revel
When Antony’s in danger?  Hide, for shame,
You Romans, your great grandsires’ images,
For fear their souls should animate their marbles,
To blush at their degenerate progeny.

Alex. A love, which knows no bounds to Antony,
Would mark the day with honours, when all heaven
Laboured for him, when each propitious star
Stood wakeful in his orb, to watch that hour,
And shed his better influence.  Her own birth-day
Our queen neglected, like a vulgar fate,
That passed obscurely by.

Vent. Would it had slept,
Divided far from his; till some remote
And future age had called it out, to ruin
Some other prince, not him!