Cle.
Hear'st thou how fares the battle?

Char.
Antony
Now stands surveying our Ægyptian gallies,
Engaging Cæsar's fleet. (Shout again).

Cle.
Now death, or conquest!

Iras.
Have comfort, Madam;—'twas a cheering shout. (Shouts repeated).
Hark! they redouble it.

Char.
'Tis from the port.

Cle.
Good news, kind Heav'n! Enter Alexas.

Alex.
O, horror, horror!
Ægypt has been;—our latest hour is come;
Time has unroll'd our glories to the last,
And, now, closed up the volume.

Cle.
Say the worst.

Alex.
Proud on the waves, your well appointed fleet
Row'd forth to sea, and smooth the well-timed oars
Were dipt to meet the foe;—soon did they meet,

But not as foes! In brief, we saw their caps
On either side thrown up; Ægyptian gallies
(Receiv'd like friends) past through, and fell behind
The Roman rear; and, now, they all come forward,
And ride within the port.

Cle.
Enough, Alexas;
I've heard my doom!—What says Mark Antony?
Where is he? Oh, he will be more enraged
Than Telamon for his shield!

Alex.
You must avoid him.
He raves on you, and cries he is betray'd.
His fury shakes his fabrick like an earthquake;
Heaving for vent, he bursts, like bellowing Ætna,
In sounds scarce human.—Do not see him yet.

Cle.
I must not.—Whither go?

Alex.
Retire, awhile,
Within your monument:—meet not this tempest;
It will o'erblow.

Cle.
Not till he hears I'm dead;—
Then would this gust of anger end in grief.

Alex.
E'en that way turn it, then;—let me report
To Antony that you have slain yourself:
When undeceiv'd, his joy will be so great,
He will forgive, if not forget, the ills
Our fleet hath wrought him.

Cle.
Well, well, be it so.
And yet, 'tis not for fear that I avoid him:
I know him noble; when he banish'd me,
And thought me false, he scorn'd to take my life.
But I'll be justified, and then die with him.
Away, Alexas!—Come, my women, come! Exeunt.—Cleopatra, and her Women, on one side; Alexas on the other.]

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