Ant.
All's lost! this foul Ægyptian hath betray'd 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.

(49) ^note


Oh, 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,
(50) ^note

That over-topt them all. Betray'd I am.
Oh, this false soul of Ægypt! this gay Charm,
Whose eye beck'd forth my wars, and call'd them home,
Whose bosom was my Crownet, my chief end,
Like a right Gipsie, hath at fast and loose
Beguil'd me to the very heart of loss.
What, Eros, Eros! Enter Cleopatra.
Ah! thou spell! avant.—

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
(51) ^note

Patient Octavia plough thy visage up
With her prepared nails. 'Tis well, thou'rt gone; [Exit Cleopatra.
If it be well to live. But better 'twere,
Thou fell'st into my fury; for one death
Might have prevented many. Eros, hoa!
The shirt of Nessus is upon me; (52) ^note

To the young Roman boy she hath sold me, and I fall
Under his plot: she dies for't. Eros, hoa! [Exit. Re-enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Mardian.

Cleo.
Help me, my women! oh, he is more mad
Than Telamon for his shield; the boar of Thessaly
Was never so imbost.

Char.
To th' Monument,
There lock your self, and send him word you're dead:
The soul and body rive not more in parting,
Than Greatness going off.

Cleo.
To th' Monument:
Mardian, go tell him I have slain my self;
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 th' Monument. [Exeunt. Re-enter Antony, and Eros.

Ant.
Eros, thou yet behold'st me.

Eros.
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 world,
And mock our eyes with air. Thou'st seen these signs,
They are black Vesper's pageants.

Eros.
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.

Eros.
It do's, my Lord.

Ant.
My good knave, Eros, now thy Captain is
Even such a body; here I'm Antony,
Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave.
I made these wars for Ægypt; 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
Packt cards with Cæsar, and false play'd my Glory
Unto an enemy's triumph—
Nay, weep not, gentle Eros, there is left us
Our selves to end our selves. Enter Mardian.
Oh, thy vile Lady!—
Sh' has robb'd me of my sword.

Mar.
No, Antony,
My Mistress lov'd thee, and her fortunes mingled
With thine intirely.

Ant.
Hence, sawcy Eunuch, peace, she hath betray'd me,
And she 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 rendred life,
Thy name so buried 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 Mardian.
Off, pluck off;—
The seven-fold shield of Ajax cannot keep
The battery from my heart. Oh cleave, my sides!
Heart, once be stronger than thy continent,
Crack thy frail case! apace, Eros, apace.
No more a Soldier—bruised pieces, go; [Unarming himself.
You have been nobly borne;—from me a while— [Exit Eros.
I will o'ertake thee, Cleopatra, and
Weep for my pardon. So't must be, for now
All length is torture; since the torch is out,

Lye down and stray no further. Now all labour
Marrs what it does, yea, very force entangles
It self with strength; (53) ^noteseal then, and all is done,
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;
(54) ^note

Eros.
What would my Lord?

Ant.
Since Cleopatra died,
I've 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 my self, to lack

The courage of a woman; less noble-minded
Than she, which, by her death, our Cæsar tells,
“I'm conqueror of my self.” Thou art sworn, Eros,
That when the exigent should come, which now
Is come indeed, when I should see behind me
Th' inevitable prosecution of disgrace
And horrour, that on my command thou then
Wouldst kill me. Do it, for the time is come:
Thou strik'st not me, 'tis Cæsar thou defeat'st.
Put colour in thy cheek.

Eros.
The Gods with-hold me!
Shall I do That, which all the Parthian darts,
Though enemy, lost aim, and could not?

Ant.
Eros,
Wouldst thou be window'd in great Rome, and see
Thy master thus with pleacht arms, bending down
His corrigible neck, his face subdu'd
To penetrative shame: whilst the wheel'd seat
Of fortunate Cæsar, drawn before him, branded
His baseness that ensued?

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.
Oh, Sir, pardon me.

Ant.
When I did make thee free, swor'st thou not then
To do this when I bad 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 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 Emp'ror! Let me say,
Before I strike this bloody stroke, farewel.

Ant.
'Tis said, man,—and farewel.

Eros.
Farewel, great Chief. Shall I strike now?

Ant.
Now, Eros.

Eros.
Why, there then— [Eros kills himself.
Thus I do escape the sorrow
Of Antony's death. [Dyes.

Ant.
Thrice nobler than my self!
Thou teachest me, oh, 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, 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 learnt of thee. How, not yet dead? not dead?—
The Guard—ho!—oh, dispatch me. Enter Dercetas, and Guard.

1 Guard.
What's the noise?

Ant.
I've done my work ill, friends:
O, make an end of what I have begun.

2 Guard.
The star is faln.

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.

Der.
Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers fly.
This sword but shewn 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?

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.
Lockt 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 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, hoa!
Come, your Lord calls. Enter the Guard.

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

1 Guard.
Woe are we, Sir! you may not live to wear
All your true follow'rs 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.

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