s?

_Dola._ What you have said, so sinks into my soul,
That, if I must speak, I shall speak just so.

_Ant._ I leave you then to your sad task: Farewell.
I sent her word to meet you. [_Goes to the door, and comes back._
I forgot;
Let her be told, I'll make her peace with mine:
Her crown and dignity shall be preserved,
If I have power with Caesar.--O, be sure
To think on that.

_Dola._ Fear not, I will remember.
[ANTONY _goes again to the door, and comes back._

_Ant._ And tell her, too, how much I was constrained;
I did not this, but with extremest force:
Desire her not to hate my memory,
For I still cherish hers;--insist on that.

_Dola._ Trust me, I'll not forget it.

_Ant._ Then that's all. [_Goes out, and returns again._
Wilt thou forgive my fondness this once more?
Tell her, though we shall never meet again,
If I should hear she took another love,
The news would break my heart.--Now I must go;
For every time I have returned, I feel
My soul more tender; and my next command
Would be, to bid her stay, and ruin both. [_Exit._

_Dola._ Men are but children of a larger growth;
Our appetites as apt to change as theirs,
And full as craving too, and full as vain;
And yet the soul, shut up in her dark room,
Viewing so clear abroad, at home sees nothing;
But, like a mole in earth, busy and blind,
Works all her folly up, and casts it outward
To the world's open view: Thus I discovered,
And blamed the love of ruined Antony;
Yet wish that I were he, to be so ruined.

_Enter_ VENTIDIUS _above._

_Vent._ Alone, and talking to himself? concerned too?
Perhaps my guess is right; he loved her once,
And may pursue it still.

_Dola._ O friendship! friendship!
Ill canst thou answer this; and reason, worse:
Unfaithful in the attempt; hopeless to win;
And, if I win, undone: mere madness all.
And yet the occasion's fair. What injury
To him, to wear the robe which he throws by?

_Vent._ None, none at all. This happens as I wish,
To ruin her yet more with Antony.

_Enter_ CLEOPATRA, _talking with_ ALEXAS; CHARMION, IRAS _on the
other side._

_Dola._ She comes! What charms have sorrow on that face!
Sorrow seems pleased to dwell with so much sweetness;
Yet, now and then, a melancholy smile
Breaks loose, like lightning in a winter's night,
And shows a moment's day.

_Vent._ If she should love him too! her eunuch there!
That porc'pisce bodes ill wea