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James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
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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 dragonish2 note










;

-- 369 --


A vapour, sometime, like a bear, or lion,
A tower'd citadel, a pendant rock,
A forked mountain, or blue promontory
With trees upon't3 note
, that nod unto the world,
And mock our eyes with air: Thou hast seen these signs;
They are black vesper's pageants4 note.

Eros.
Ay, my lord.

Ant.
That, which is now a horse, even with a thought,
The rack dislimns5 note; and makes it indistinct,
As water is in water.

Eros.
It does, my lord.

Ant.
My good knave, Eros6 note





, now thy captain is
Even such a body: here I am Antony;

-- 370 --


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 triumph7 note









.—

-- 371 --


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, Eros8 note

; the long day's task is done,
And we must sleep:—That thou depart'st hence safe,
Does pay thy labour richly; Go.—Off, pluck off;— [Exit Mardian.
The seven-fold shield of Ajax cannot keep9 note
The battery from my heart1 note


. O, cleave, my sides!

-- 372 --


Heart, once be stronger than thy continent2 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 torture3 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 done4 note






.—
Eros!—I come, my queen:—Eros!—Stay for me:
Where souls do couch on flowers, we'll hand in hand,
And with our sprightly port make the ghosts gaze:
Dido and her Æneas shall want troops5 note










,

-- 373 --


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 she6 note





















, which, by her death, our Cæsar tells,

-- 374 --


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

-- 375 --


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 arms7 note





, bending down
His corrigible neck8 note, his face subdued
To penetrative shame; whilst the wheel'd seat
Of fortunate Cæsar, drawn before him, branded
His baseness that ensued9 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.

-- 376 --

Eros.
O, sir, pardon me.

Ant.
When I did make thee free1 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 world2 note


lies.

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.

-- 377 --

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 death3 note






, and run into't
As to a lover's bed. Come then; and, Eros,
Thy master dies thy scholar; to do thus [Falling on his Sword.
I learn'd of thee. How! not dead4 note? not dead?—
The guard!—ho5 note









!—O, despatch me.

-- 378 --

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.

-- 379 --

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 fear6 note

Of what hath come to pass: for when she saw
(Which never shall be found,) you did suspect
She had dispos'd with Cæsar7 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 we8 note, sir, you may not live to wear
All your true followers out.

-- 380 --

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.
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James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
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