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.

_Cleo._ And yet you leave me!
You leave me, Antony; and yet I love you,
Indeed I do: I have refused a kingdom;
That is a trifle;
For I could part with life, with any thing,
But only you. O let me die but with you!
Is that a hard request?

_Ant._ Next living with you,
'Tis all that heaven can give.

_Alex._ He melts; we conquer. [_Aside._

_Cleo._ No; you shall go: your interest calls you hence;
Yes; your dear interest pulls too strong, for these
Weak arms to hold you here. [_Takes his hand._
Go; leave me, soldier;
(For you're no more a lover:) leave me dying:
Push me, all pale and panting, from your bosom,
And, when your march begins, let one run after,
Breathless almost for joy, and cry--she's dead:
The soldiers shout; you then, perhaps, may sigh,
And muster all your Roman gravity:
Ventidius chides; and strait your brow clears up,
As I had never been.

_Ant._ Gods, 'tis too much; too much for man to bear.

_Cleo._ What is't for me then,
A weak forsaken woman, and a lover?--
Here let me breathe my last: envy me not
This minute in your arms: I'll die apace,
As fast as e'er I can; and end your trouble.

_Ant._ Die! rather let me perish; loosened nature
Leap from its hinges, sink the props of heaven,
And fall the skies, to crush the nether world!
My eyes, my soul, my all!-- [_Embraces her._

_Vent._ And what's this toy,
In balance with your fortune, honour, fame?

_Ant._ What is't, Ventidius? it out-weighs the