[Enter an Attendant.]

ATTENDANT.
News, my good lord, from Rome.

ANTONY.
Grates me:--the sum.

CLEOPATRA.
Nay, hear them, Antony:
Fulvia perchance is angry; or who knows
If the scarce-bearded Caesar have not sent
His powerful mandate to you: 'Do this or this;
Take in that kingdom and enfranchise that;
Perform't, or else we damn thee.'

ANTONY.
How, my love!

CLEOPATRA.
Perchance! Nay, and most like:--
You must not stay here longer,--your dismission
Is come from Caesar; therefore hear it, Antony. --
Where's Fulvia's process?--Caesar's I would say?--Both?--
Call in the messengers.--As I am Egypt's queen,
Thou blushest, Antony; and that blood of thine
Is Caesar's homager: else so thy cheek pays shame
When shrill-tongu'd Fulvia scolds.--The messengers!