Cæs.
How! fall'n upon his sword, and dying, say you?

Dol.
'Tis held for certain that he cannot live.

Cæs.
The breaking of so great a spirit should
Convulse the frame of nature; this our globe
Should have shook lions into civil streets,
And citizens to dens. In his name lay
A moiety of the world. O Antony!
I've follow'd thee to this: I must, perforce,
Have shewn to thee such a declining day,
Or look on thine.

Agr.
Cæsar is touch'd

Dol.
When such a spacious mirror's set before him,
He needs must see himself.

Cæsar.
Come hither, Dolabella;
Hie thee to Cleopatra; say to her
We purpose her no shame: give her what comfort
The quality of her passion shall require;
Lest, in her greatness, by some desperate act
She do defeat us; for her life in Rome
Would be eternal in our triumph.—Go. [Exit Dolabella.
On, in our march, through Alexandria. [Flourish, Exeunt.

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