Sure he would sigh; for he is noble-natured,
And bears a tender heart: I know him well.
Ah, no, I know him not; I knew him once,
But now 'tis past.

_Iras._ Let it be past with you:
Forget him, madam.

_Cleo._ Never, never, Iras.
He once was mine; and once, though now 'tis gone,
Leaves a faint image of possession still.

_Alex._ Think him inconstant, cruel, and ungrateful.

_Cleo._ I cannot: If I could, those thoughts were vain.
Faithless, ungrateful, cruel, though he be,
I still must love him.

_Enter_ CHARMION.

Now, what news, my Charmion?
Will he be kind? and will he not forsake me?
Am I to live, or die? nay, do I live?
Or am I dead? for when he gave his answer,
Fate took the word, and then I lived or died.

_Char._ I found him, madam--

_Cleo._ A long speech preparing?
If thou bring'st comfort, haste, and give it me,
For never was more need.

_Iras._ I know he loves you.

_Cleo._ Had he been kind, her eyes had told me so,
Before her tongue could speak it: Now she studies,
To soften what he said; but give me death,
Just as he sent it, Charmion, undisguised,
And in the words he spoke.

_Char._ I found him, then,
Encompassed round, I think, with iron statues;
So mute, so motionless his soldiers stood,
While awfully he cast his eyes about,
And every leader's hopes or fears surveyed:
Methought he looked resolved, and yet not pleased.
When he beheld me struggling in the crowd,
He blushed, and bade make way.

_Alex._ There's comfort yet.

_Char._ Ventidius fixed his eyes upon my passage,
Severely, as he meant to frown me back,
And sullenly gave place: I told my message,
Just as you gave it, broken and disordered;
I numbered in it all your sighs and tears,
And while I moved your pitiful request,
That you but only begged a last farewell,
He fetched an inward groan; and every time
I named you, sighed, as if his heart were breaking.
But, shunned my eyes, and guiltily looked down:
He seemed not now that awful Antony,
Who shook an armed assembly with his nod;
But, making show as he would rub his eyes,
Disguised and blotted out a falling tear.

_Cleo._ Did he then weep? And was I worth a tear?
If what thou hast to say be not as pleasing,
Tell me no more, but let me die contented.

_Char._ He bid me say,--He knew himself so well,
He could deny you nothing, if he saw you;
And therefore--

_Cleo._ Thou wouldst say, he would not see me?

_Char._ And therefore begged you not to use a power,
W