&blquo;Cæsar.
&blquo;He calls me boy; and chides, as he had power
&blquo;To beat me out of Egypt: my messenger
&blquo;He hath whip'd with rods; dares me to personal combat,
&blquo;Cæsar to Antony: Let the old ruffian know,
&blquo;He hath many other ways to die; mean time,
&blquo;I laugh at his challenge.

&blquo;Mec.
&blquo;Cæsar must think,
&blquo;When one so great begins to rage, he's hunted
&blquo;Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now
&blquo;Make boot of his distraction: Never anger
&blquo;Made good guard for itself.

&blquo;Cæs.
&blquo;Let our best heads
&blquo;Know, that to-morrow the last of many battles
&blquo;We mean to fight: Within our files there are,
&blquo;Of those that serv'd Mark Antony but late,
&blquo;Enough to fetch him in. See it be done;
&blquo;And feast the army: we have store to do't,
&blquo;And they have earn'd the waste. Poor Antony! [Exeunt. SCENE II. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. Enter Antony and Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Iras, Charmian, and others.

Ant.
He will not fight with me, Domitius.

Eno.
No.

Ant.
Why should he not?

Eno.
He thinks, being twenty times of better fortune,
He is twenty men to one.

Ant.
To-morrow, soldier,
By sea and land I'll fight: or I will live,
Or bathe my dying honour in the blood
Shall make it live again. Won't thou fight well?

Eno.
I'll strike; and cry, Take all.

Ant.
Well said; come on.—
Call forth my houshold servants; let's to-night Enter some domestics.
Be bounteous at our meal.—Give me thy hand,
Thou hast been rightly honest;—so hast thou,—
And thou,—and thou,—and thou:—you have serv'd me well,
And kings have been your fellows.

Cle.
What means this?

Eno.
'Tis one of those odd tricks, which sorrow shoots
Out of the mind.

Ant.
And thou art honest too.
I wish I could be made so many men;
And all of you clapt up together in
An Antony; that I might do you service,
So good as you have done.

Dom.
The gods forbid!

Ant.
Well, my good fellows, wait on me to-night;
Scant not my cups; and make as much of me,
As when mine empire was your fellow too,
And suffer'd my command.

Cle.
What does he mean?

Eno.
To make his followers weep.

Ant.
Tend me to-night;
May be, it is the period of your duty:
Haply, you shall not see me more! or if,
A mangl'd shadow: perchance, to-morrow
You'll serve another master. I look on you,
As one that takes his leave. Mine honest friends,
I turn you not away; but, like a master,
Marry'd to your good service, stay 'till death:
Tend me to-night two hours, I ask no more,
And the gods yield you for't!

Eno.
What mean you, sir,
To give them this discomfort? Look, they weep!
And, I, an ass, am onion-ey'd: for shame,
Transform us not to women.

Ant.
Ho, ho, ho!
Now the witch take me, if I meant it thus!

Grace grow where those drops fall! My hearty friends,
You take me in too dolorous a sense:
I spake to you for your comfort; did desire you
To burn this night with torches: Know, my hearts,
I hope well of to-morrow; and will lead you,
Where rather I'll expect victorious life,
Than death and honour. Let's to supper, come,
And drown consideration. [Exeunt. ^note&blquo;SCENE III.

* [Footnote: &blquo;The same. Before the Palace. &blquo;Enter two Soldiers to their guard.

&blquo;1. S.
&blquo;Brother, good night: to-morrow is the day.

&blquo;2. S.
&blquo;It will determine one way: fare you well.
&blquo;Heard you of nothing strange about the streets?

&blquo;1. S.
&blquo;Nothing: What news?

&blquo;2. S.
&blquo;Belike, 'tis but a rumour: Good night to you.

&blquo;1. S.
&blquo;Well, sir, good night. &blquo;Enter two other Soldiers.

&blquo;2. S.
&blquo;Soldiers, have careful watch.

&blquo;3. S.
&blquo;And you: Good night, good night. [&blquo;The two first go to their posts.

&blquo;4. S.
&blquo;Here we: [going to theirs] and if to-morrow
&blquo;Our navy thrive, I have an absolute hope
&blquo;Our landmen will stand up.

&blquo;3. S.
&blquo;'Tis a brave army,
&blquo;And full of purpose. [&blquo;Musick of hautboys, as underneath.

&blquo;4. S.
&blquo;Peace, What noise?

&blquo;1. S.
&blquo;List, list!

&blquo;2. S.
&blquo;Hark! [Advancing from their posts.

&blquo;1. S.
&blquo;Music i'the air.

&blquo;3. S.
&blquo;Under the earth.

&blquo;4. S.
&blquo;It signs well, does it not?

&blquo;3. S.
&blquo;No.

&blquo;1. S.
&blquo;Peace, I say.
&blquo;What should this mean?

&blquo;2. S.
&blquo;'Tis the god Hercules, whom Antony lov'd,
&blquo;Now leaves him.

&blquo;1. S.
&blquo;Walk: let's see if other watchmen
&blquo;Do hear what we do. [Going. &blquo;Enter other Soldiers meeting them.

How now, masters?

&blquo;Sol.
&blquo;How now?
&blquo;How now? Do you hear this?

&blquo;1. S.
&blquo;Ay; is't not strange?

&blquo;3. S.
&blquo;Do you hear, masters; do you hear?

&blquo;1. S.
&blquo;Follow the noise so far as we have quarter;
&blquo;Let's see how 'twill give off.

&blquo;All.
&blquo;Content: 'Tis strange. [Exeunt. &blquo;SCENE IV. The same. A Room in the Palace. &blquo;Enter Antony and Cleopatra; Charmian, Iras, and others attending.

&blquo;Ant.
&blquo;Eros! mine armour, Eros!

&blquo;Cle.
&blquo;Sleep a little.

&blquo;Ant.
&blquo;No, my chuck.—Eros, come; mine armour, Eros! &blquo;Enter Eros with armour.
&blquo;Come, my good fellow, put thine iron on:—
&blquo;If fortune be not ours to-day, it is
&blquo;Because we brave her.—Come. [Eros arms him.

&blquo;Cle.
&blquo;Nay, I'll help too.

&blquo;Ant.
&blquo;What's this for? Ah, let be, let be! thou art
&blquo;The armourer of my heart: False, false; this, this.

&blquo;Cle.
&blquo;Sooth, la, I'll help: Thus it must be.

&blquo;Ant.
&blquo;Well, well;
&blquo;We shall thrive now.—Seest thou, my good fellow?
&blquo;Go, put on thy defences.

&blquo;Eros.
&blquo;Briefly, sir.

&blquo;Cle.
&blquo;Is not this buckl'd well?

&blquo;Ant.
&blquo;O, rarely, rarely:
&blquo;He that unbuckles this, 'till we do please
&blquo;To doff't for our repose, shall hear a storm.—
&blquo;Thou fumbl'st, Eros; and my queen's a squire

&blquo;More tight at this, than thou: Dispatch.—O love,
&blquo;That thou could'st see my wars to-day, and knew'st
&blquo;The royal occupation! thou should'st see &blquo;Enter an Officer armed.
&blquo;A workman in't. Good-morrow to thee; welcome;
&blquo;Thou look'st like him that knows a warlike charge:
&blquo;To business that we love we rise betime,
&blquo;And go to't with delight.

&blquo;1. O.
&blquo;A thousand, sir,
&blquo;Early though 't be, have on their rivetted trim,
&blquo;And at the port expect you. [Shout within. Trumpets. &blquo;Enter other Officers, Soldiers, &c.

&blquo;2. O.
&blquo;The morn is fair.—Good-morrow, general.

&blquo;All.
&blquo;Good morrow, general.

&blquo;Ant.
&blquo;'Tis well blown, lads.
&blquo;This morning, like the spirit of a youth
&blquo;That means to be of note, begins betimes.—
&blquo;So, so; come, give me that: this way, well said.—
&blquo;Fare thee well, dame, whate'er becomes of me:
&blquo;This is a soldier's kiss: rebukeable,
&blquo;And worthy shameful check it were, to stand
&blquo;On more mechanic compliment; I'll leave thee
&blquo;Now, like a man of steel.—You that will fight,
&blquo;Follow me close; I'll bring you to't.—Adieu. [&blquo;Exeunt Eros, Antony, Officers, and Soldiers.

&blquo;Cha.
&blquo;Please you, retire to your chamber.

&blquo;Cle.
&blquo;Lead me.
&blquo;He goes forth gallantly. That he and Cæsar might
&blquo;Determine this great war in single fight!
&blquo;Then, Antony,—But now,—Well, on. [Exeunt. &blquo;SCENE V. Under the walls of Alexandria. Antony's Camp. Trumpets. Enter Antony and Eros; a Soldier meeting them.

&blquo;Sol.
&blquo;The gods make this a happy day to Antony!

Ant.
&blquo;'Would thou and those thy scars had once prevail'd
&blquo;To make me fight at land!

&blquo;Sol.
&blquo;Had'st thou done so,
&blquo;The kings that have revolted, and the soldier
&blquo;That has this morning left thee, would have still
&blquo;Follow'd thy heels.

Ant.
&blquo;Who's gone this morning?

&blquo;Sol.
&blquo;Who?
&blquo;One ever near thee: Call for Enobarbus,
&blquo;He shall not hear thee; or from Cæsar's camp
&blquo;Say, I am none of thine.

&blquo;Ant.
&blquo;What say'st thou?

&blquo;Sol.
&blquo;Sir,
&blquo;He is with Cæsar.

&blquo;Eros.
&blquo;Sir, his chests and treasure
&blquo;He has not with him.

&blquo;Ant.
&blquo;Is he gone?

&blquo;Sol.
&blquo;Most certain.

&blquo;Ant.
&blquo;Go, Eros, send his treasure after; do it,
&blquo;Detain no jot of it, I charge thee: write to him
&blquo;(I will subscribe) gentle adieus, and greetings:
&blquo;Say, that I wish he never find more cause
&blquo;To change a master.—O, my fortunes have
&blquo;Corrupted honest men.—Dispatch.—O Enobarbus! &blquo;[Exeunt. SCENE VI. Before Alexandria. Cæsar's Camp. Flourish. Enter Cæsar, with Agrippa, Enobarbus, and others.

Cæs.
Go forth, Agrippa, and begin the fight:
Our will is, Antony be took alive;
Make it so known.

Agr.
Cæsar, I shall. [Exit Agrippa.

Cæs.
The time of universal peace is near:
Prove this a prosperous day, the three-nook'd world* ^note
Shall bear the olive freely.

Enter a Messenger.

Mes.
Antony
Is come into the field.

Cæs.
Go, charge, Agrippa.
Plant those that have revolted in the van;
That Antony may seem to spend his fury
Upon himself. [Exeunt Cæsar and train.

Eno.
Alexas did revolt: he went to Jewry, on
Affairs of Antony; there did persuade
Great Herod to incline himself to Cæsar,
And leave his master Antony: for this pains,
Cæsar hath hang'd him. Canidius and the rest
That fell away, have entertainment, but
No honourable trust. I have done ill;
Of which I do accuse myself so sorely,
That I will joy no more. Enter a soldier.

Sol.
Enobarbus, Antony
Hath after thee sent all thy treasure, with
His bounty over-plus: The messenger
Came on my guard; and at thy tent is now,
Unloading of his mules.

Eno.
I give it you.

Sol.
I mock not, Enobarbus,
I tell you true: Best you see safe the bringer
Out of the host; I must attend mine office,
Or would have done't myself. Your emperor
Continues still a Jove. [Exit Soldier.

Eno.
I am alone the villain of the earth,
And feel I am so most. O Antony,
Thou mine of bounty, how would'st thou have pay'd
My better service, when my turpitude
Thou dost so crown with gold! This bows my heart:
If swift thought break it not, a swifter mean
Shall out-strike thought; but thought will do't, I feel.
I fight against thee! no: I will go seek
Some ditch, wherein to dye; the foul'st best fits
My latter part of life† ^note. [Exit.

^note&blquo;SCENE VII.

‡ [Footnote: &blquo;Between the Camps. Field of Battle. Alarms. Enter Agrippa and his Forces.&brquo;

&blquo;Agr.
&blquo;Retire, we have engag'd ourselves too far:
&blquo;Cæsar himself has work, and our oppression
&blquo;Exceeds what we expected. [Retreat. Exeunt. &blquo;Alarums. Enter Antony and Forces, with Scarus wounded.

&blquo;Sca.
&blquo;O my brave emperor, this is fought indeed!
&blquo;Had we done so at first, we had driven them home
&blquo;With clouts about their heads.

&blquo;Ant.
&blquo;Thou bleed'st apace.

&blquo;Sca.
&blquo;I had a wound here that was like a T,
&blquo;But now 'tis made an H. [Retreat afar off.

&blquo;Ant.
&blquo;They do retire.

&blquo;Sca.
&blquo;We'll beat 'em into bench-holes; I have yet
&blquo;Room for six scotches more. &blquo;Enter Eros.

&blquo;Eros.
&blquo;They are beaten, sir; and our advantage serves
&blquo;For a fair victory.

&blquo;Sca.
&blquo;Let us score their backs,
&blquo;And snatch 'em up as we take hares, behind:
&blquo;'Tis sport to maul a runner.

&blquo;Ant.
&blquo;I will reward thee
&blquo;Once for thy sprightly comfort, and ten-fold
&blquo;For thy good valour. Come thee on.

&blquo;Sca.
&blquo;I'll halt after. [Exeunt. SCENE VIII. Gates of Alexandria. Enter Antony, marching; Scarus and Forces.

Ant.
We have beat him to his camp;—Run one before,
And let the queen know of our guests:—To-morrow,
Before the sun shall see us, we'll spill the blood
That has to-day escap'd. I thank you all;

For doughty-handed are you; and have fought,
Not as you serv'd the cause, but as 't had been
Each man's like mine; you have all shewn you Hectors.
Enter the city, clip your wives, your friends,
Tell them your feats; whilst they with joyful tears
Wash the congealment from your wounds, and kiss
The honour'd gashes whole.—Give me thy hand; [to Sca. Enter Cleopatra, attended.
To this great fairy I'll commend thy acts,
Make her thanks bless thee.—O thou day o' the world,
Chain mine arm'd neck; leap thou, attire and all,
Through proof of harness to my heart, and there
Ride on the pants triumphing.

Cle.
Lord of lords,
O infinite virtue, com'st thou smiling from
The world's great snare uncaught?

Ant.
My nightingale,
We have beat them to their beds. What, girl? though grey
Do something mingle with our brown; yet have we
A brain that nourishes our nerves, and can
Get goal for goal of youth. Behold this man,
Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand;—
Kiss it, my warrior: he hath fought to-day,
As if a god, in hate of mankind, had
Destroy'd in such a shape.

Cle.
I'll give thee, friend,
An armour all of gold; it was a king's.

Ant.
He has deserv'd it, were it carbuncl'd
Like holy Phœbus' car. Give me thy hand;—
Through Alexandria make a jolly march;
Bear our hackt targets like the men that owe them:
Had our great palace the capacity
To camp this host, we all would sup together;
And drink carouses to the next day's fate,
Which promises royal peril.—Trumpeters,
With brazen din blast you the city's ear;
Make mingle with our rattling tabourins;

That heaven and earth may strike their sounds together,
Applauding our approach* ^note. [Flourish. Exeunt. SCENE IX. Out-skirts of Cæsar's Camp. Sentinels upon their Posts. Enter Enobarbus.

3. S.
If we be not reliev'd within this hour,
We must return to the court of guard: the night
Is shiny; and, they say, we shall embattle
By the second hour i'the morn.

1. S.
This last day was
A shrewd one to us.

Eno.
O, bear me witness, Night,—

2. S.
What man is this?

1. S.
Stand close, and list him.

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.

3. S.
Enobarbus!

2. S.
Peace; hark further.

Eno.
O sovereign mistress of true melancholy,
The poisonous damp of night dispunge upon me;
That life, a very rebel to my will,
May hang no longer on me: throw my heart
Against the flint and hardness of my fault;
Which, being dry'd with grief, will break to powder,
And finish all foul thoughts. O' Antony,
Nobler than my revolt is infamous,
Forgive me in thine own particular;
But let the world rank me in register
A master-leaver, and a fugitive:
O Antony! O Antony!† ^note [dies.

1. S.
Let's speak to him.

3. S.
Let's hear him further, for the things he speaks
May concern Cæsar.

2. S.
Let's do so. But he sleeps.

3. S.
Swoons rather; for so bad a prayer as his
Was never yet for sleep.

1. S.
Go we to him.

2. S.
Awake, sir, [to Eno.
Awake; speak to us.

1. S.
Hear you, sir? [shaking him.

3. S.
The hand
Of death hath raught him. [Drum afar off.
Hark, how the drums demurely wake the sleepers:
Let's bear him to the court of guard; he is
Of note: our hour is fully out.

2. S.
Come on then;
He may recover yet. [Exeunt with the Body. SCENE X. Hills without the City. &blquo;Enter Antony, and Scarus, with Forces, marching.

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

&blquo;Sca.
&blquo;For both, my lord.

&blquo;Ant.
&blquo;I would, they'd fight i'the fire, or i'the air;
&blquo;We'd fight there too. But this it is, Our foot,
&blquo;Upon the hills adjoining to the city,
&blquo;Shall stay with us: order for sea is given;
&blquo;They have put forth the haven: hie we on,
&blquo;Where their appointment we may best discover,
&blquo;And look on their endeavour. [Exeunt. &blquo;Enter Cæsar, and his Forces, marching.

&blquo;Cæs.
&blquo;But being charg'd, we will be still by land,
&blquo;Which, as I take't, we shall; for his best force
&blquo;Is forth to man his gallies. To the vales,
&blquo;And hold our best advantage. [Exeunt. &blquo;Re-enter Antony, and Scarus.

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

&blquo;Sca.
&blquo;Swallows have built
&blquo;In Cleopatra's sails their nests: the augurers
&blquo;Say, they know not, they cannot tell; look grimly,
&blquo;And dare not speak their knowledge. Antony
&blquo;Is valiant, and dejected; and, by starts,
&blquo;His fretted fortunes give him hope, and fear,
&blquo;Of what he has, and has not. [Shouts afar off. Re-enter Antony, hastily* ^note.

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! 'tis thou
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.
On sun, thy up-rise 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, to whom I gave
Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets
On blossoming Cæsar; and this pine is bark'd,
That over-top'd them all. Betray'd I am:
(O this false soil of Egypt!) This grave charm,—
Whose eye beck'd forth my wars, and call'd them home;
Whose bosom was my crownet, my chief end,—
Like a right gipsy, hath, at fast and loose† ^note,
Beguil'd me to the very heart of loss.—
What, Eros, Eros! Enter Cleopatra.
Ah, thou spell! Avant.

Cle.
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 Plébeians:
Follow his chariot, like the greatest spot
Of all thy sex; most monster-like, be shewn
For poor'st diminutives, for doits; and let
Patient Octavia plough thy visage up
With her prepared nails. [Exit Cle.] '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 on the horns o'the moon;
And with those hands that grasp'd the heaviest club
Subdue my worthiest self. The witch shall die;
To the Roman boy she hath sold me, and I fall
Under this plot: she dies for't.—Eros, ho! &blquo;[Exit. &blquo;SCENE XI. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. &blquo;Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Mardian.

&blquo;Cle.
&blquo;Help me, my women: O, he is more mad
&blquo;Than Telamon for his shield; the boar of Thessaly
&blquo;Was never so imbost.

&blquo;Cha.
&blquo;To the monument;
&blquo;There lock yourself, and send him word you are dead.
&blquo;The soul and body rive not more in parting,
&blquo;Than greatness going off.

&blquo;Cle.
&blquo;To the monument:—
&blquo;Mardian, go tell him I have slain myself;
&blquo;Say, that the last I spoke was, Antony,
&blquo;And word it, pr'ythee, piteously: hence, Mardian;
&blquo;And bring me how he takes my death.—To the monument‡ ^note.

&blquo;SCENE XII. The same. Another Room. &blquo;Enter Antony, and Eros.

Ant.
Eros, thou yet behold'st me?

Ero.
Ay, noble lord.

Ant.
Sometime, we see a cloud that's dragonish;
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, that nod unto the wind,
And mock our eyes with air: thou hast seen these signs;
They are black vesper's pageants?

Ero.
Ay, my lord.

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

Ero.
It does, my lord.

Ant.
My good knave, Eros, now thy captain is&verbar2; ^note
Even such a body: here I am Antony;
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 annext 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.
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 mingl'd
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 pay'd but once;
And that she hath 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 bury'd in her.

Ant.
Dead then?

Mar.
Dead.

Ant.
Unarm me, Eros; the long day's task is done,
And we must sleep:—That thou depart'st hence safe,
Does pay thy labour richly; go. [Exit Mar.] Pluck off;—
The sevenfold shield of Ajax cannot keep
The battery from my heart. O, cleave, my sides!
Heart, once be stronger than thy continent,
Crack thy frail case!—Apace, Eros, apace.—
No more a soldier: bruised pieces, go;
You have been nobly born.—From me a while. [Exit Eros.
I will o'er-take thee, Cleopatra, and
Weep for my pardon. So it must be, for now
All length is torture; since the torch is out,
Lie down, and stray no farther: now all labour
Marrs what it does; yea, very force entangles
Itself with strength: seal then, and all is done* ^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 troops,
And all the haunt be ours.—Come, Eros, Eros. Re-enter Eros.

Ero.
What would my lord?

Ant.
Since Cleopatra dy'd,
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-minded
Than she, which, by her death, our Cæsar tells,
I am conqueror of myself. Thou art sworn, Eros,
That, when the exigent shall 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.

Ero.
The gods withold 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, bending down
His corrigible neck, his face subdu'd
To penetrative shame; whil'st the wheel'd seat
Of fortunate Cæsar, drawn before him, branded
His baseness that ensu'd?† ^note

Ero.
I would not see't.

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

&blquo;Ero.
&blquo;O, sir, pardon me.

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

Ero.
Turn from me then that noble countenance,
Wherein the worship of the whole world lies.

Ant.
Lo thee. [turning away his face.

Ero.
My sword is drawn.

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

Ero.
My dear master,
My captain, and my emperor, let me say,
Before I strike this bloody stroke, farewel.

Ant.
'Tis said, man; and farewel.

Ero.
Farewel, great chief. Shall I strike now?

Ant.
Now, Eros.

Ero.
Why, there then: [falling on his sword.] Thus I do escape the sorrow
Of Antony's death.

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 bride-groom in my death, and run into't
As to a lover's bed. Come then; [taking Eros' sword] and, Eros,
Thy master dies thy scholar; to do thus [running on it.
I learnt of thee. How! not yet dead? not dead? Enter Guard, and Dercetas.
The guard? how!—O, dispatch me.

1. G.
What's the noise?

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

2. G.
The star is fallen.

1. G.
And time is at his period.

All.
Alas, and woe!

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

1. G.
Not I.

2. G.
Nor I.

3. G.
Nor any one. [Exeunt Guard.

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

Enter Diomede.

Dio.
Where's Antony?

Der.
There, Diomede, there.

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

Ant.
Art thou there, Diomede? 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
Of what hath come to pass: for when she saw
(Which never shall be found) you did suspect
She had dispos'd with Cæsar, 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 Diomede: call my guard, I pr'ythee.

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

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

1. G.
Woe are we, sir, you may not live to wear
All your true followers out.

All.
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,
And have my thanks for all. [Exeunt, bearing Antony.

&blquo;SCENE XIII. The same. A Monument. &blquo;Enter, at a Window, above, Cleopatra, Charmian, and Iras.

&blquo;Cle.
&blquo;O Charmian, I will never go from hence.

&blquo;Cha.
&blquo;Be comforted, dear madam.

&blquo;Cle.
&blquo;No, I will not:
&blquo;All strange and terrible events are welcome,
&blquo;But comforts we despise; our size of sorrow,
&blquo;Proportion'd to our cause, must be as great &blquo;Enter Diomede.
&blquo;As that which makes it.—How now? is he dead?

&blquo;Dio.
&blquo;His death's upon him, but not dead. Look out
&blquo;O' the other side your monument,—But see,
&blquo;His guard have brought him hither. &blquo;Enter Antony, borne by the Guard.

&blquo;Cle.
&blquo;O sun, sun,
&blquo;Burn the great sphere thou mov'st in! darkling stand
&blquo;The varying shore o' the world!—O Antony,
&blquo;Antony, Antony!—Charmian, help; help, Iras;
&blquo;Help, friends below: let's draw him hither.

&blquo;Ant.
&blquo;Peace:
&blquo;Not Cæsar's valour hath o'er-thrown Antony,
&blquo;But Antony's hath triumph'd on itself.

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

&blquo;Ant.
&blquo;I am dying, Egypt, dying; only yet
&blquo;I here impórtune death a while, until
&blquo;Of many thousand kisses the poor last
&blquo;I lay upon thy lips: Come down.

&blquo;Cle.
&blquo;I dare not,
&blquo;(Dear, dear my lord, your pardon that I dare not)
&blquo;Lest I be taken: not the imperious shew
&blquo;Of the full-fortun'd Cæsar ever shall
&blquo;Be brooch'd with me; if knives, drugs, serpents, have
&blquo;Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe:
&blquo;Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes,

&blquo;And still conclusion, shall acquire no honour
&blquo;Demuring upon me.—But come, come, Antony,—
&blquo;Help me, my women,—we must draw thee up;—
&blquo;Assist, good friends. [Cleopatra, and her Women, throw out certain Tackle, into which the People below put Antony, and he is drawn up.

&blquo;Ant.
&blquo;O, quick, or I am gone.

&blquo;Cle.
&blquo;Here's sport, indeed! How heavy weighs my lord?
&blquo;Our strength is all gone into heaviness,
&blquo;That makes the weight: Had I great Juno's power,
&blquo;The strong-wing'd Mercury should fetch thee up,
&blquo;And set thee by Jove's side. Yet come a little,—
&blquo;Wishers were ever fools;—O, come, come, come;
&blquo;And welcome, welcome! die, where thou hast liv'd:
&blquo;Quicken with kissing; had my lips that power,
&blquo;Thus would I wear them out.

&blquo;All.
&blquo;A heavy sight!

&blquo;Ant.
&blquo;I am dying, Egypt, dying:
&blquo;Give me some wine, and let me speak a little.

&blquo;Cle.
&blquo;No, let me speak; and let me rail so high,
&blquo;That the false huswife fortune break her wheel,
&blquo;Provok'd by my offence.

&blquo;Ant.
&blquo;One word, sweet queen:
&blquo;Of Cæsar seek your honour, with your safety. O!

&blquo;Cle.
&blquo;They do not go together.

&blquo;Ant.
&blquo;Gentle, hear me:
&blquo;None about Cæsar trust, but Proculeius.

&blquo;Cle.
&blquo;My resolution, and my hands, I'll trust,
&blquo;None about Cæsar.

&blquo;Ant.
&blquo;The miserable change now at my end
&blquo;Lament nor sorrow at: but please your thoughts,
&blquo;In feeding them with those my former fortunes
&blquo;Wherein I liv'd: the greatest prince o'the world,
&blquo;The noblest: and do now not basely die,
&blquo;Not cowardly put off my helmet; to
&blquo;My countryman, a Roman by a Roman
&blquo;Valiantly vanquish'd. Now my spirit is going,
&blquo;I can no more. [sinks.

&blquo;Cle.
&blquo;Noblest of men, wou't die?
&blquo;Hast thou no care of me? shall I abide

&blquo;In this dull world, which in thy absence is,
&blquo;No better than a sty?—O, see, my women, [Ant. dies.
The crown o' the earth doth melt:—My lord!—
&blquo;O, wither'd is the garland of the war,
&blquo;The soldier's pole is fall'n; young boys, and girls,
&blquo;Are level now with men: the odds is gone,
&blquo;And there is nothing-left remarkable
&blquo;Beneath the visiting moon* ^note.

&blquo;Cha.
&blquo;O, quietness, lady. [Cleopatra swoons.

&blquo;Ira.
&blquo;She is dead too, our sovereign.

&blquo;Cha.
&blquo;Lady,—

&blquo;Ira.
&blquo;Madam,—

&blquo;Cha.
&blquo;O madam, madam, madam!

&blquo;Ira.
&blquo;Royal Egypt!
&blquo;Emperess!

&blquo;Cha.
&blquo;Peace, peace, Iras. [seeing her recover.

&blquo;Cle.
&blquo;No more but e'en a woman; and commanded
&blquo;By such poor passion, as the maid that milks,
&blquo;And does the meanest chares. It were for me,
&blquo;To throw my scepter at the injurious gods;
&blquo;To tell them, that this world did equal theirs,
&blquo;'Till they had stol'n our jewel. All's but naught;
&blquo;Patience is sottish; and impatience does
&blquo;Become a dog that's mad: then is it sin,
&blquo;To rush into the secret house of death,
&blquo;Ere death dare come to us?—How do you, women?
&blquo;What? what? good cheer! Why, how now, Charmian?
&blquo;My noble girls!—Ah, women, women! look,
&blquo;Our lamp is spent, it's out:—Good sirs, take heart:—
&blquo;We'll bury him; and then, what's brave, what's noble,
&blquo;Let's do it after the high Roman fashion,
&blquo;And make death proud to take us. Come, away:
&blquo;This case of that huge spirit now is cold.

&blquo;Ah, women, women! come; we have no friend
&blquo;But resolution, and the briefest end. &blquo;[Exeunt; those above bearing off the body† ^note.

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