First Guard.

Enter Dercetas and Guard.

What's the noise?

Ant. I have done my work ill, friends: O, make an end

Of what I have begun.

Sec. Guard.

First Guard. And time is at his period.

Ail.

Ant. Let him that loves me strike me dead.

First Guard.

Sec. Guard. Nor I.

The star is fall'n.

Alas, and woe!

Not I.

[Exeunt Guard. IIO

Third Guard. Nor any one.

Der. Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers fly.

This sword but shown to Cæsar, with this tidings,
Shall enter me with him.

Ant. Art thou there, Diomed? Draw thy sword, and

[Exit Dercetas.

give me

Sufficing strokes for death.

Dio.

Most absolute lord,

My mistress Cleopatra sent me to thee.

Ant. When did she send thee?

Of what hath come to pass: for when she saw

Which never shall be found you did suspect
She had disposed with Cæsar, and that your rage
Would not be purged, she sent you word she was dead;
But, fearing since how it might work, hath sent
Me to proclaim the truth; and I am come,
I dread, too late.

Ant. Too late, good Diomed: call my guard, I prithee.
Dio. What, ho, the emperor's guard! The guard, what,

ho!

Come, your lord calls.

Enter four or five of the Guard of Antony.

130

Ant. Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra bides; 'Tis the last service that I shall command you. First Guard. Woe, woe are we, sir, you may not live to wear

All.

All your true followers out.

Most heavy day!

Ant. Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp fate

To grace it with your sorrows: bid that welcome
Which comes to punish us, and we punish it
Seeming to bear it lightly. Take me up:
I have led you oft: carry me now, good friends, 139
[Exeunt, bearing Antony.

And have my thanks for all.

Scene XV.

The same. A monument.

Enter Cleopatra, and her maids aloft, with Charmian,
and Iras.

Cleo. O Charmian, I will never go from hence.

Char. Be comforted, dear madam.

Cleo.

No, I will not:

All strange and terrible events are welcome,
But comforts we despise; our size of sorrow,
Proportion'd to our cause, must be as great

As that which makes it.

Enter, below, Diomedes.

How now! is he dead?

Dio. His death's upon him, but not dead.

Cleo.

Ant.

Look out o' the other side your monument;
His guard have brought him thither.

Enter, below, Antony, borne by the Guard.

O sun,

II

Burn the great sphere thou movest in! darkling stand
The varying shore o' the world. O Antony,
Antony, Antony! Help, Charmian, help, Iras, help;
Help, friends below; let's draw him hither.

Not Cæsar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony,
But Antony's hath triumph'd on itself.
Cleo. So it should be, that none but Antony
Should conquer Antony; but woe 'tis so!
Ant. I am dying, Egypt, dying; only
I here importune death awhile, until
Of many thousand kisses the poor last
I lay upon thy lips.

Cleo.

I dare not, dear,

Dear my lord, pardon, I dare not,
Lest I be taken: not the imperious show

Of the full-fortuned Cæsar ever shall

Peace!

20

Be brooch'd with me; if knife, drugs, serpents, have
Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe :

Ant.

Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes

And still conclusion, shall acquire no honour
Demuring upon me. But come, come, Antony, -
Help me, my women,-we must draw thee up;

Assist, good friends.

O, quick, or I am gone.

30

Cleo. Here's sport indeed! How heavy weighs my lord! Our strength is all gone into heaviness;

All.

That makes the weight. Had I great Juno's power,
The strong-wing'd Mercury should fetch thee up
And set thee by Jove's side. Yet come a little-
Wishers were ever fools-O, come, come, come;

[They heave Antony aloft to Cleopatra.
And welcome, welcome! die where thou hast lived:
Quicken with kissing: had my lips that power,
Thus would I wear them out.

Ant. I am dying, Egypt, dying :

A heavy sight!

Give me some wine, and let me speak a little.

Cleo. No, let me speak, and let me rail so high,

Ant.

That the false housewife Fortune break her wheel,
Provoked by my offence.

One word, sweet queen:

Of Cæsar seek your honour, with your safety. O! Cleo. They do not go together. Ant.

Gentle, hear me:

None about Cæsar trust but Proculeius. Cleo. My resolution and my hands I'll trust; None about Cæsar.

Ant. The miserable change now at my end

Lament nor sorrow at, but please your thoughts
In feeding them with those my former fortunes

4°

50

Cleo.

Wherein I lived, the greatest prince o' the world,
The noblest, and do now not basely die,

Not cowardly put off my helmet to

My countryman, a Roman by a Roman
Valiantly vanquish'd. Now my spirit is going;
I can no more.

Noblest of men, woo't die?

Hast thou no care of me? shall I abide
In this dull world, which in thy absence is
No better than a sty? O, see, my women,

60

[Antony dies.

The crown o' the earth doth melt. My lord!

O, wither'd is the garland of the war,

The soldier's pole is fall'n: young boys and girls
Are level now with men; the odds is gone,

And there is nothing left remarkable

Cleo. No more, but e'en a woman, and commanded
By such poor passion as the maid that milks
And does the meanest chares. It were for me
To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods,
To tell them that this world did equal theirs
Till they had stol'n our jewel. All's but naught;
Patience is sottish, and impatience does