Ant. O Cleopatra!

Vent. Again?

Ant. I’ve done: In that last sigh she went.
Cæsar shall know what ’tis to force a lover
From all he holds most dear.

Vent. Methinks, you breathe
Another soul: Your looks are more divine;
You speak a hero, and you move a god.

Ant. Oh, thou hast fired me; my soul’s up in arms,
And mans each part about me: Once again,
That noble eagerness of fight has seized me;
That eagerness with which I darted upward
To Cassius’ camp: In vain the steepy hill
Opposed my way; in vain a war of spears
Sung round my head, and planted on my shield;
I won the trenches, while my foremost men
Lagged on the plain below.

Vent. Ye gods, ye gods,
For such another honour!

Ant. Come on, my soldier!
Our hearts and arms are still the same: I long
Once more to meet our foes; that thou and I,
Like Time and Death, marching before our troops,
May taste fate to them; mow them out a passage,
And, entering where the foremost squadrons yield,
Begin the noble harvest of the field.

[Exeunt