<p>Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.</p> <p>Enter Demetrius and Philo.</p> <p>Philo. Nay, but this dotage of our Generals<br />Ore-flowes the measure: those his goodly eyes<br />That o're the Files and Musters of the Warre,<br />Haue glow'd like plated Mars:<br />Now bend, now turne<br />The Office and Deuotion of their view<br />Vpon a Tawny Front. His Captaines heart,<br />Which in the scuffles of great Fights hath burst<br />The Buckles on his brest, reneages all temper,<br />And is become the Bellowes and the Fan<br />To coole a Gypsies Lust.</p> <p>Flourish. Enter Anthony, Cleopatra, her Ladies, the Traine, with<br />Eunuchs<br />fanning her.</p> <p>Looke where they come:<br />Take but good note, and you shall see in him<br />(The triple Pillar of the world) transform'd<br />Into a Strumpets Foole. Behold and see</p> <p>Cleo. If it be Loue indeed, tell me how much</p> <p>Ant. There's beggery in the loue that can be reckon'd<br /> Cleo. Ile set a bourne how farre to be belou'd</p> <p>Ant. Then must thou needes finde out new Heauen,<br />new Earth.<br />Enter a Messenger.</p> <p>Mes. Newes (my good Lord) from Rome</p> <p>Ant. Grates me, the summe</p> <p>Cleo. Nay heare them Anthony.<br />Fuluia perchance is angry: Or who knowes,<br />If the scarse-bearded Caesar haue not sent<br />His powrefull Mandate to you. Do this, or this;<br />Take in that Kingdome, and Infranchise that:<br />Perform't, or else we damne thee</p> <p>Ant. How, my Loue?<br /> Cleo. Perchance? Nay,