Cleo. I would reason
More calmly with you.  Did not you o’er-rule,
And force my plain, direct, and open love,
Into these crooked paths of jealousy? 
Now, what’s the event?  Octavia is removed;
But Cleopatra’s banished.  Thou, thou villain,
Hast pushed my boat to open sea; to prove,
At my sad cost, if thou canst steer it back. 
It cannot be; I’m lost too far; I’m ruined: 
Hence, thou impostor, traitor, monster, devil!—­
I can no more:  Thou, and my griefs, have sunk
Me down so low, that I want voice to curse thee.

Alex. Suppose some shipwrecked seaman near the shore,
Dropping and faint, with climbing up the cliff,
If, from above, some charitable hand
Pull him to safety, hazarding himself,
To draw the other’s weight; would he look back,
And curse him for his pains?  The case is yours;
But one step more, and you have gained the height.

Cleo. Sunk, never more to rise.

Alex. Octavia’s gone, and Dolabella banished. 
Believe me, madam, Antony is yours. 
His heart was never lost; but started off
To jealousy, love’s last retreat and covert;
Where it lies hid in shades, watchful in silence,
And listening for the sound that calls it back. 
Some other, any man, (’tis so advanced)
May perfect this unfinished work, which I
(Unhappy only to myself) have left
So easy to his hand.

Cleo. Look well thou do’t; else—­

Alex. Else, what your silence threatens.—­Antony
Is mounted up the Pharos; from whose turret,
He stands surveying our Egyptian gallies,
Engaged with Caesar’s fleet.  Now death or conquest! 
If the first happen, fate acquits my promise;
If we o’ercome, the conqueror is yours. [A distant shout within.

Char. Have comfort, madam:  Did you mark that shout?
                                               [Second shout nearer.

Iras. Hark! they redouble it.

Alex. ’Tis from the port.  The loudness shows it near:  Good news, kind heavens!

Cleo. Osiris make it so!

Enter SERAPION.

Serap. Where, where’s the queen?

Alex. How frightfully the holy coward stares! 
As if not yet recovered of the assault,
When all his gods, and, what’s more dear to him,
His offerings, were at stake.

Serap. O horror, horror! 
Egypt has been; our latest hour is come: 
The queen of nations, from her ancient seat,
Is sunk for ever in the dark abyss: 
Time has unrolled her glories to the last,
And now closed up the volume.

Cleo. Be more plain: 
Say, whence thou comest; though fate is in thy face,
Which from thy hagard eyes looks wildly out,
And threatens ere thou speakest.

Serap. I came from Pharos;
From viewing (spare me, and imagine it)
Our land’s last hope, your navy—­