Ant. O you wrong me,
To think I sought this parting, or desired
To accuse you more than what will clear myself,
And justify this breach.

Cleo. Thus low I thank you;
And, since my innocence will not offend,
I shall not blush to own it.

Vent. After this, I think she’ll blush at nothing.

Cleo. You seem grieved,
(And therein you are kind) that Caesar first
Enjoyed my love, though you deserved it better: 
I grieve for that, my lord, much more than you;
For, had I first been yours, it would have saved
My second choice:  I never had been his,
And ne’er had been but yours.  But Caesar first,
You say, possessed my love.  Not so, my lord: 
He first possessed my person; you, my love: 
Caesar loved me; but I loved Antony. 
If I endured him after, ’twas because
I judged it due to the first name of men;
And, half constrained, I gave, as to a tyrant,
What he would take by force.

Vent. O Syren!  Syren! 
Yet grant that all the love she boasts were true,
Has she not ruined you?  I still urge that,
The fatal consequence.

Cleo. The consequence indeed;
For I dare challenge him, my greatest foe,
To say it was designed:  ’tis true, I loved you,
And kept you far from an uneasy wife,—­
Such Fulvia was. 
Yes, but he’ll say, you left Octavia for me;—­
And, can you blame me to receive that love,
Which quitted such desert, for worthless me? 
How often have I wished some other Caesar,
Great as the first, and as the second young,
Would court my love, to be refused for you!

Vent. Words, words; but Actium, sir; remember Actium.

Cleo. Even there, I dare his malice.  True, I counselled
To fight at sea; but I betrayed you not. 
I fled, but not to the enemy.  ’Twas fear;
Would I had been a man, not to have feared! 
For none would then have envied me your friendship,
Who envy me your love.

Ant. We are both unhappy:  If nothing else, yet our ill fortune parts us.  Speak; would you have me perish by my stay?

Cleo. If, as a friend, you ask my judgment, go; If, as a lover, stay.  If you must perish—­ ’Tis a hard word—­but stay.

Vent. See now the effects of her so boasted love! 
She strives to drag you down to ruin with her;
But, could she ’scape without you, oh how soon
Would she let go her hold, and haste to shore,
And never look behind!

Cleo. Then judge my love by this. [Giving ANTONY a writing.
Could I have borne
A life or death, a happiness or woe,
From yours divided, this had given me means.

Ant. By Hercules, the writing of Octavius! 
I know it well:  ’tis that proscribing hand,
Young as it was, that led the way to mine,
And left me but the second place in murder.—­
See, see, Ventidius! here he offers Egypt,
And joins all Syria to it, as a present;
So, in requital, she forsake my fortunes,
And join her arms with his.