1 Sold.
If we be not reliev'd within this hour,
We must return to the court of guard^{5 note}: The night
Is shiny; and, they say, we shall embattle
By the second hour i' the morn.

2 Sold.
This last day was
A shrewd one to us.

Eno.
O, bear me witness, night,—

3 Sold.
What man is this?

2 Sold.
Stand close, and list him^{6 note}

Eno.
Be witness to me, O thou blessed moon,
When men revolted shall upon record
Bear hateful memory, poor Enobarbus did
Before thy face repent!—

1 Sold.
Enobarbus!

3 Sold.
Peace;
Hark further.

Eno.
O sovereign mistress of true melancholy,
The poisonous damp of night disponge upon me^{7 note};
That life, a very rebel to my will,
May hang no longer on me: Throw my heart^{8 note}

A master-leaver, and a fugitive:
O Antony! O Antony! [Dies.

2 Sold.
Let's speak
To him.

1 Sold.
Let's hear him, for the things he speaks
May concern Cæsar.

3 Sold.
Let's do so. But he sleeps.

1 Sold.
Swoons rather; for so bad a prayer as his
Was never yet for sleep^{9 note}.

2 Sold.
Go we to him.

3 Sold.
Awake, awake, sir; speak to us.

2 Sold.
Hear you, sir?

1 Sold.
The hand of death hath raught him^{1 note}. Hark, the drums [Drums afar off.
Demurely^{2 note}
wake the sleepers. Let us bear him
To the court of guard; he is of note: our hour
Is fully out.

3 Sold.
Come on, then;
He may recover yet. [Exeunt with the Body. SCENE X. Between the two Camps. Enter Antony and Scarus, with Forces, marching.

Ant.
Their preparation is to-day by sea;
We please them not by land.

Scar.
For both, my lord.

Ant.
I would, they'd fight i' the fire, or in the air;
We'd fight there too. But this it is; Our foot
Upon the hills adjoining to the city,
Shall stay with us: order for sea is given;
They have put forth the haven^{3 note}

Where their appointment we may best discover,
And look on their endeavour^{4 note}
. [Exeunt. Enter Cæsar, and his Forces, marching.

Cæs.
But being charg'd, we will be still by land,
Which, as I take't, we shall^{5 note}

Re-enter Antony and Scarus.

Ant.
Yet they're not join'd: Where yonder pine does stand,
I shall discover all: I'll bring thee word
Straight, how 'tis like to go. [Exit.

Scar.
Swallows have built
In Cleopatra's sails their nests: the augurers^{6 note}

Say, they know not,—they cannot tell;—look grimly,
And dare not speak their knowledge. Antony
Is valiant, and dejected; and, by starts,
His fretted fortunes give him hope, and fear,
Of what he has, and has not. Alarum afar off, as at a Sea Fight. Re-enter Antony.

Ant.
All is lost;
This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me:
My fleet hath yielded to the foe; and yonder
They cast their caps up, and carouse together
Like friends long lost.—Triple-turn'd whore^{7 note}

Hast sold me to this novice; and my heart
Makes only wars on thee.—Bid them all fly;
For when I am reveng'd upon my charm,
I have done all:—Bid them all fly, be gone. [Exit Scarus.
O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more:
Fortune and Antony part here; even here
Do we shake hands.—All come to this?—The hearts
That spaniel'd me at heels^{8 note}

Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets
On blossoming Cæsar; and this pine is bark'd,
That overtopp'd them all. Betray'd I am:
O this false soul of Egypt! this grave charm^{9 note}

Like a right gipsy, hath, at fast and loose,
Beguil'd me^{2 note}

Enter Cleopatra.
Ah, thou spell! Avaunt.

Cleo.
Why is my lord enrag'd against his love?

Ant.
Vanish; or I shall give thee thy deserving,
And blemish Cæsar's triumph. Let him take thee,
And hoist thee up to the shouting Plebeians:
Follow his chariot, like the greatest spot
Of all thy sex; most monster-like, be shown
For poor'st diminutives, for doits^{4 note}

Patient Octavia plough thy visage up
With her prepared nails^{5 note}. [Exit Cleo.] 'Tis well thou'rt gone,
If it be well to live: But better 'twere
Thou fell'st into my fury, for one death
Might have prevented many.—Eros, ho!—
The shirt of Nessus is upon me: Teach me,
Alcides, thou mine ancestor, thy rage:
Let me lodge Lichas^{6 note}

And with those hands, that grasp'd the heaviest club,
Subdue my worthiest self. The witch shall die;
To the young Roman boy^{7 note} she hath sold me, and I fall
Under this plot: she dies for't.—Eros, ho! [Exit. SCENE XI. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Mardian.

Cleo.
Help me, my women! O, he is more mad
Than Telamon for his shield^{8 note}; the boar of Thessaly
Was never so emboss'd^{9 note}

Char.
To the monument;
There lock yourself, and send him word you are dead.

The soul and body rive not more in parting,
Than greatness going off^{1 note}


.

Cleo.
To the monument:—
Mardian, go tell him I have slain myself;
Say, that the last I spoke was, Antony,
And word it, pr'ythee, piteously: Hence,
Mardian; and bring me how he takes my death.—
To the monument. [Exeunt. SCENE XII. The Same. Another Room. Enter Antony and Eros.

Ant.
Eros, thou yet behold'st me?

Eros.
Ay, noble lord.

Ant.
Sometime, we see a cloud that's dragonish^{2 note}

A vapour, sometime, like a bear, or lion,
A tower'd citadel, a pendant rock,
A forked mountain, or blue promontory
With trees upon't^{3 note}
, that nod unto the world,
And mock our eyes with air: Thou hast seen these signs;
They are black vesper's pageants^{4 note}.

Eros.
Ay, my lord.

Ant.
That, which is now a horse, even with a thought,
The rack dislimns^{5 note}; and makes it indistinct,
As water is in water.

Eros.
It does, my lord.

Ant.
My good knave, Eros^{6 note}

Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave.
I made these wars for Egypt; and the queen,—
Whose heart, I thought, I had, for she had mine;
Which, whilst it was mine, had annex'd unto't
A million more, now lost,—she, Eros, has
Pack'd cards with Cæsar, and false play'd my glory
Unto an enemy's triumph^{7 note}

Nay, weep not, gentle Eros; there is left us
Ourselves to end ourselves.—O, thy vile lady! Enter Mardian.
She has robb'd me of my sword.

Mar.
No, Antony;
My mistress lov'd thee, and her fortunes mingled
With thine entirely.

Ant.
Hence, saucy eunuch; peace;
She hath betray'd me, and shall die the death.

Mar.
Death of one person can be paid but once;
And that she has discharg'd: What thou would'st do,
Is done unto thy hand; the last she spake
Was, Antony! most noble Antony!
Then in the midst a tearing groan did break
The name of Antony; it was divided
Between her heart and lips: she render'd life,
Thy name so buried in her.

Ant.
Dead then?

Mar.
Dead.

Ant.
Unarm, Eros^{8 note}

Heart, once be stronger than thy continent^{2 note},
Crack thy frail case!—Apace, Eros, apace.—
No more a soldier:—Bruised pieces, go;
You have been nobly borne.—From me a while.— [Exit Eros.
I will o'ertake thee, Cleopatra, and
Weep for my pardon. So it must be, for now
All length is torture^{3 note}:—Since the torch is out,
Lie down, and stray no further: Now all labour
Marrs what it does; yea, very force entangles
Itself with strength: Seal then, and all is done^{4 note}

And all the haunt be ours.—Come, Eros, Eros! Re-enter Eros.

Eros.
What would my lord?

Ant.
Since Cleopatra died
I have liv'd in such dishonour, that the gods
Detest my baseness. I, that with my sword
Quarter'd the world, and o'er green Neptune's back
With ships made cities, condemn myself, to lack
The courage of a woman; less noble mind
Than she^{6 note}

I am conqueror of myself. Thou art sworn, Eros,
That, when the exigent should come, (which now

Is come, indeed,) when I should see behind me
The inevitable prosecution of
Disgrace and horror, that, on my command,
Thou then would'st kill me: do't; the time is come:
Thou strik'st not me, 'tis Cæsar thou defeat'st.
Put colour in thy cheek.

Eros.
The gods withhold me!
Shall I do that, which all the Parthian darts,
Though enemy, lost aim, and could not?

Ant.
Eros,
Would'st thou be window'd in great Rome, and see
Thy master thus with pleach'd arms^{7 note}

Eros.
I would not see't.

Ant.
Come then; for with a wound I must be cur'd.
Draw that thy honest sword, which thou hast worn
Most useful for thy country.

Eros.
O, sir, pardon me.

Ant.
When I did make thee free^{1 note}, swor'st thou not then
To do this when I bade thee? Do it at once;
Or thy precedent services are all
But accidents unpurpos'd. Draw, and come.

Eros.
Turn from me then that noble countenance,
Wherein the worship of the whole world^{2 note}

Ant.
Lo thee. [Turning from him.

Eros.
My sword is drawn.

Ant.
Then let it do at once
The thing why thou hast drawn it.

Eros.
My dear master,
My captain, and my emperor! let me say,
Before I strike this bloody stroke, farewell.

Ant.
'Tis said, man;—and farewell.

Eros.
Farewell, great chief. Shall I strike now?

Ant.
Now, Eros.

Eros.
Why, there then:— [Falls on his Sword. Thus do I escape the sorrow
Of Antony's death. [Dies.

Ant.
Thrice nobler than myself!
Thou teachest me, O valiant Eros, what
I should, and thou could'st not. My queen and Eros
Have, by their brave instruction, got upon me
A nobleness in record: But I will be
A bridegroom in my death^{3 note}

Enter Dercetas and Guard.

1 Guard.
What's the noise?

Ant.
I have done my work ill, friends; O, make an end
Of what I have begun.

2 Guard.
The star is fallen.

1 Guard.
And time is at his period.

All.
Alas, and woe!

Ant.
Let him that loves me, strike me dead.

1 Guard.
Not I.

2 Guard.
Nor I.

3 Guard.
Nor any one. [Exeunt Guard.

Der.
Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers fly.
This sword but shown to Cæsar, with this tidings,
Shall enter me with him. Enter Diomedes.

Dio.
Where's Antony?

Der.
There, Diomed, there.

Dio.
Lives he?
Wilt thou not answer, man? [Exit Dercetas.

Ant.
Art thou there, Diomed? Draw thy sword, and give me
Sufficing strokes for death.

Dio.
Most absolute lord,
My mistress Cleopatra sent me to thee.

Ant.
When did she send thee?

Dio.
Now, my lord.

Ant.
Where is she?

Dio.
Lock'd in her monument. She had a prophesying fear^{6 note}

Of what hath come to pass: for when she saw
(Which never shall be found,) you did suspect
She had dispos'd with Cæsar^{7 note}, and that your rage
Would not be purg'd, 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 pr'ythee.

Dio.
What, ho! the emperor's guard! The guard, what, ho!
Come, your lord calls. Enter some of the Guard.

Ant.
Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra bides;
'Tis the last service that I shall command you.

1 Guard.
Woe, woe are we^{8 note}, sir, you may not live to wear
All your true followers out.

All.
!

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,
And have my thanks for all. [Exeunt, bearing Antony. SCENE XIII. The Same. A Monument. Enter above, Cleopatra, 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 Enter Diomedes.
As that which makes it.—How now? is he dead?

Dio.
His death's upon him, but not dead^{9 note}
.
Look out o' the other side your monument,
His guard have brought him thither. Enter Antony, borne by the Guard.

Cleo.
O sun,
Burn the great sphere thou mov'st in!—darkling^{1 note}

stand

The varying shore o' th' world^{2 note}

Ant.
Peace:
Not Cæsar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony,
But Antony's hath triumphed on itself.

Cleo.
So it should be, that none but Antony
Should conquer Antony; but woe 'tis so!

Ant.
I am dying, Egypt, dying^{4 note}
; only

I here impórtune death^{5 note} a while, 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^{6 note}

Edge, sting, or operation^{9 note}

Ant.
O, quick, or I am gone.

Cleo.
Here's sport, indeed^{2 note}

Our strength is all gone into heaviness^{3 note},
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 draw Antony up.
And welcome, welcome! die, where thou hast liv'd^{4 note}:
Quicken with kissing^{5 note}

All.
A heavy sight!

Ant.
I am dying, Egypt, dying:
Give me some wine^{6 note}, and let me speak a little.

Cleo.
No, let me speak; and let me rail so high,
That the false housewife Fortune^{7 note}

Ant.
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^{8 note} now at my end,
Lament nor sorrow at: but please your thoughts,
In feeding them with those my former fortunes
Wherein I liv'd: the greatest prince o' the world,
The noblest: and do now not basely die,
Nor 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. [Dies.

Cleo.
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 stye?—O, see, my women,
The crown o' the earth doth melt:—My lord!—
O, wither'd is the garland of the war,
The soldier's pole^{9 note}

Are level now with men: the odds is gone,
And there is nothing left remarkable
Beneath the visiting moon^{1 note}






. [She faints.

Char.
O, quietness, lady!

Iras.
She is dead too, our sovereign.

Char.
Lady,—

Iras.
Madam,—

Char.
O madam, madam, madam!

Iras.
Royal Egypt!
Empress!

Char.
Peace, peace, Iras.

Cleo.
No more, but e'en a woman^{2 note}

By such poor passion as the maid that milks,
And does the meanest chares^{3 note}

Previous section

Next section