Cæsar.
Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield;
Being so frustrate, tell him,
He mocks the pauses that he makes.

Dol.
Cæsar, I shall.(57) ^note [Exit Dolabella. Enter Dercetas, with the sword of Antony.

Cæs.
Wherefore is that? and what art thou, that dar'st
Appear thus to us?

Der.
I am call'd Dercetas;
Mark Antony I serv'd, who best was worthy
Best to be serv'd; whilst he stood up, and spoke,
He was my master, and I wore my life
To spend upon his haters. If thou please
To take me to thee, as I was to him
I'll be to Cæsar: If thou pleasest not,
I yield thee up my life.

Cæs.
What is't thou say'st?

Der.
I say, oh, Cæsar, Antony is dead.

Cæs.
The breaking of so great a thing should make
A greater crack. The round world should have shook
Lions into civil streets, and Citizens
Into their dens.—The death of Antony
Is not a single doom, in that name lay
A moiety of the world.

Der.
He is dead, Cæsar,
Not by a publick minister of justice,
Nor by a hired knife; but that self-hand,
Which writ his Honour in the acts it did,
Hath with the courage, which the heart did lend it,
Splitted the heart. This is his sword,
I robb'd his wound of it: behold it stain'd
With his most noble blood.

Cæs.
Look you sad, friends:—(58) ^note


The Gods rebuke me, but it is a tiding
To wash the eyes of Kings!

Agr.
And strange it is,
That nature must compel us to lament
Our most persisted deeds.

Mec.
His taints and honours
Weigh'd equal in him.

Agr.
A rarer spirit never
Did steer humanity; but you Gods will give us
Some faults to make us men. Cæsar is touch'd.

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

Cæs.
O Antony!
I've follow'd thee to this—but we do lance
Diseases in our bodies. I must perforce
Have shewn to thee such a declining day,
Or look on thine; we could not stall together
In the whole world. But yet let me lament
With tears as soveraign as the blood of hearts,
That thou my brother, my competitor
In top of all design, my mate in Empire,
Friend and companion in the front of war,
The arm of mine own body, and the heart
Where mine its thoughts did kindle; that our stars,
Unreconcileable, should have divided
Our equalness to this. Hear me, good friends,
But I will tell you at some meeter season.—
The business of this man looks out of him,
We'll hear him what he says. Whence are you?

Enter an Ægyptian.

Ægypt.
A poor Ægyptian yet; the Queen my mistress,
Confin'd in all she has, (her Monument)
Of thy intents desires instruction;
That she preparedly may frame her self
To th' way she's forc'd to.

Cæs.
Bid her have good heart;
She soon shall know of us, by some of ours,
How honourably and how kindly we
Determine for her. For Cæsar cannot live,
To be ungentle.

Ægypt.
May the Gods preserve thee! [Exit.

Cæs.
Come hither, Proculeius; go, and say,
We purpose her no shame; give her what comforts
The quality of her passion shall require;
Lest in her Greatness by some mortal stroke
She do defeat us: for her life in Rome
Would be eternal in our triumph. Go,
And with your speediest bring us what she says,
And how you find of her.

Pro.
Cæsar, I shall. [Exit Proculeius.

Cæs.
Gallus, go you along;—where's Dolabella,
To second Proculeius? [Exit Gallus.

All.
Dolabella!

Cæs.
Let him alone; for I remember now,
How he's employ'd: he shall in time be ready.
Go with me to my Tent, where you shall see
How hardly I was drawn into this war;
How calm and gentle I proceeded still
In all my writings. Go with me, and see
What I can shew in this. [Exeunt. Scene 2 SCENE changes to the Monument. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, Mardian, and Seleucus, above.

Cleo.
My desolation does begin to make
A better life; 'tis paltry to be Cæsar:

Not being fortune, he's but fortune's knave,
A minister of her Will, and it is great
To do that thing, that ends all other deeds;
Which shackles accidents, and bolts up change;
Which sleeps, and never palates more the dugg:—(59) ^note

Pro.
Cæsar sends Greeting to the Queen of Ægypt,
And bids thee study on what fair demands
Thou mean'st to have him grant thee.

Cleo.
What's thy name?

Pro.
My name is Proculeius.

Cleo.
Antony
Did tell me of you, bad me trust you, but
I do not greatly care to be deceiv'd,
That have no use for trusting. If your master
Would have a Queen his beggar, you must tell him,
That Majesty, to keep decorum, must
No less beg than a Kingdom; if he please

To give me conquer'd Ægypt for my Son,
He gives me so much of mine own, as I
Will kneel to him with thanks.

Pro.
Be of good cheer:
You're faln into a princely hand, fear nothing;
Make your full ref'rence freely to my lord,
Who is so full of grace, that it flows over
On all that need. Let me report to him
Your sweet dependency, and you shall find
A Conqu'ror that will pray in aid for kindness,
Where he for grace is kneel'd to.

Cleo.
Pray you, tell him,
I am his fortune's vassal, and I send him
The Greatness he has got. I hourly learn
A doctrine of obedience, and would gladly
Look him i'th' face.

Pro.
This I'll report, dear lady.
Have comfort, for, I know, your plight is pity'd
Of him that caus'd it. [Here Gallus, and Guard, ascend the Monument by a Ladder, and enter at a back-Window.

Gall.
You see, how easily she may be surpriz'd.(60) ^note

Pro.
Guard her, 'till Cæsar come.

Iras.
O Royal Queen!

Char.
Oh Cleopatra! thou art taken, Queen.—

Cleo.
Quick, quick, good hands. [Drawing a Dagger. [The Monument is open'd; Proculeius rushes in, and disarms the Queen.

Pro.
Hold, worthy lady, hold:
Do not your self such wrong, who are in this
Reliev'd, but not betray'd.

Cleo.
What, of death too, that rids our dogs of languish?

Pro.
Do not abuse my master's bounty, by
Th' undoing of your self: let the world see
His Nobleness well acted, which your death
Will never let come forth.

Cleo.
Where art thou, Death?
Come hither, come: oh come, and take a Queen
Worth many babes and beggars.

Pro.
Oh temperance, lady!

Cleo.
Sir, I will eat no meat, I'll not drink, Sir:
If idle talk will once be necessary,
I'll not sleep neither. This mortal house I'll ruin,
Do Cæsar what he can. Know, Sir, that I
Will not wait pinion'd at your master's Court,
Nor once be chastis'd with the sober eye
Of dull Octavia. Shall they hoist me up,
And shew me to the shouting varlotry
Of cens'ring Rome? rather a ditch in Ægypt
Be gentle Grave unto me! rather on Nilus' mud
Lay me stark nak'd, and let the water-flies
Blow me into abhorring! rather make
My Country's high Pyramides my gibbet,
And hang me up in chains!

Pro.
You do extend
These thoughts of horror further than you shall
Find cause in Cæsar. Enter Dolabella.

Dol.
Proculeius,
What thou hast done thy master Cæsar knows,
And he hath sent for thee: as for the Queen,
I'll take her to my guard.

Pro.
So, Dolabella,
It shall content me best; be gentle to her;
To Cæsar I will speak what you shall please,
If you'll employ me to him.

Cleo.
Say, I would die. [Exit Proculeius.

Dol.
Most noble Empress, you have heard of me.

Cleo.
I cannot tell.

Dol.
Assuredly, you know me.

Cleo.
No matter, Sir, what I have heard or known:
You laugh, when boys or women tell their dreams;
Is't not your trick?

Dol.
I understand not, Madam.

Cleo.
I dreamt, there was an Emp'ror Antony;
Oh such another sleep, that I might see
But such another man!

Dol.
If it might please ye—

Cleo.
His face was as the heav'ns; and therein stuck
A Sun and Moon, which kept their course, and lighted(61) ^note

Dol.
Most sovereign creature!—

Cleo.
His legs bestrid the ocean, his rear'd arm
Crested the world: his voice was propertied
As all the tuned Spheres, when that to friends:
But when he meant to quail, and shake the Orb,

He was as ratling thunder. For his bounty,(62) ^note

Dol.
Cleopatra—

Cleo.
Think you, there was, or might be, such a man
As this I dreamt of?

Dol.
Gentle Madam, no.

Cleo.
You lie, up to the hearing of the Gods;
But if there be, or ever were one such,
It's past the size of dreaming: Nature wants stuff(63) ^note

To vye strange forms with Fancy, yet t'imagine
An Antony, were Nature's Prize 'gainst Fancy,
Condemning shadows quite.

Dol.
Hear me, good Madam:
Your loss is as your self, great; and you bear it,
As answ'ring to the weight: would, I might never
O'er-take pursu'd success, but I do feel,
By the rebound of yours, a grief that shoots
My very heart at root.

Cleo.
I thank you, Sir.
Know you, what Cæsar means to do with me?

Dol.
I'm loth to tell you, what I would you knew.

Cleo.
Nay, pray you, Sir.

Dol.
Though he be honourable—

Cleo.
He'll lead me then in triumph?

Dol.
Madam, he will, I know't.

All.
Make way there,—Cæsar. Enter Cæsar, Gallus, Mecænas, Proculeius, and Attendants.

Cæs.
Which is the Queen of Ægypt?

Dol.
It is the Emperor, Madam. [Cleo. kneels.

Cæs.
Arise, you shall not kneel:
I pray you, rise, rise, Ægypt.

Cleo.
Sir, the Gods
Will have it thus; my master and my lord
I must obey

Cæs.
Take to you no hard thoughts:
The record of what injuries you did us,
Though written in our flesh, we shall remember
As things but done by chance.

Cleo.
Sole Sir o'th' world,
I cannot project mine own cause so well
To make it clear, but do confess, I have
Been laden with like frailties which before
Have often sham'd our Sex.

Cæs
Cleopatra, know,
We will extenuate rather than inforce:
If you apply your self to our intents,
(Which tow'rds you are most gentle) you shall find
A benefit in this Change; but if you seek
To lay on me a cruelty, by taking
Antony's course, you shall bereave your self
Of my good purposes, and put your children
To that destruction which I'll guard them from,
If thereon you relie. I'll take my leave.—

Cleo.
And may, through all the world: 'tis yours; and we,
Your scutcheons, and your signs of Conquest, shall
Hang in what place you please. Here, my good lord.

Cæs.
You shall advise me in all for Cleopatra.(64) ^note

Cleo.
This is the brief of mony, plate, and jewels
I am possest of—'tis exactly valued,(65) ^note

Sel.
Here, Madam.

Cleo.
This is my treasurer, let him speak, my lord,
Upon his peril, that I have reserv'd
To my self nothing. Speak the truth, Seleucus.

Sel.
Madam, I had rather seal my lips,
Than to my peril speak that which is not.

Cleo.
What have I kept back?

Sel.
Enough to purchase what you have made known.

Cæs.
Nay, blush not, Cleopatra; I approve
Your wisdom in the deed.

Cleo.
See, Cæsar! Oh, behold,
How Pomp is follow'd: mine will now be yours,
And, should we shift estates, yours would be mine.
Th' ingratitude of this Seleucus do's
Ev'n make me wild. Oh slave, of no more Trust
Than love that's hir'd—What, goest thou back? thou shalt
Go back, I warrant thee: but I'll catch thine eyes,
Though they had wings. Slave, soul-less villain, dog,
O rarely base!—

Cæs.
Good Queen, let us intreat you.

Cleo.
O Cæsar, what a wounding shame is this,
That thou, vouchsafing here to visit me,

Doing the honour of thy lordliness(66) ^note

Through th' ashes of my chance: wert thou a man,
Thou would'st have mercy on me.

Cæs.
Forbear, Seleucus.

Cleo.
Be't known, that we the Greatest are misthought
For things that others do; and when we fall,
We answer others merits, in our names
Are therefore to be pitied.

Cæs.
Cleopatra,
Not what you have reserv'd, nor what acknowledg'd,
Put We i'th' roll of Conquest, still be't yours;
Bestow it at your pleasure, and believe,
Cæsar's no merchant to make prize with you
Of things that merchants sold. Therefore, be cheer'd:
Make not your thoughts your prisons; no, dear Queen,
For we intend so to dispose you, as
Your self shall give us counsel: feed, and sleep.
Our care and pity is so much upon you,
That we remain your friend; and so, adieu.

Cleo.
My master, and my lord!

Cæs.
Not so:—adieu. [Exeunt Cæsar and his train.

Cleo.
He words me, Girls, he words me,
That I should not be noble to my self.
But hark thee, Charmian. [Whispers Charmian.

Iras.
Finish, good lady, the bright day is done,
And we are for the dark.

Cleo.
Hie thee again.—(68) ^note


I've spoke already, and it is provided;
Go put it to the haste.

Char.
Madam, I will. [Exit Charm.

Enter Dolabella.

Dol.
Where is the Queen?

Char.
Behold, Sir.

Cleo.
Dolabella!

Dol.
Madam, as thereto sworn, by your Command,
Which my love makes religion to obey,
I tell you this: Cæsar through Syria
Intends his journey, and, within three days,
You with your children will he send before;
Make your best use of this. I have perform'd
Your pleasure and my promise.

Cleo.
Dolabella,
I shall remain your debtor.

Dol.
I your servant.
Adieu, good Queen; I must attend on Cæsar. [Exit.

Cleo.
Farewel, and thanks. Now, Iras, what think'st thou?
Thou, an Ægyptian puppet, shalt be shewn
In Rome as well as I: mechanick slaves
With greasie aprons, rules, and hammers, shall
Uplift us to the view. In their thick breaths,
Rank of gross diet, shall we be enclouded,
And forc'd to drink their vapour.

Iras.
The Gods forbid!

Cleo.
Nay, 'tis most certain, Iras: sawcy lictors
Will catch at us like strumpets, and scall'd rhimers
Ballad us out-o'-tune. The quick Comedians
Extemp'rally will stage us, and present
Our Alexandrian revels: Antony
Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see
Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my Greatness
I'th' posture of a whore.

Iras.
O the good Gods!

Cleo.
Nay, that's certain.

Iras.
I'll never see it; for, I'm sure, my nails
Are stronger than mine eyes.

Cleo.
Why, that's the way(69) ^note

Guards.
Here is a rural fellow,
That will not be deny'd your Highness' presence;
He brings you figs.

Cleo.
Let him come in. How poor an instrument [Exit Guardsman.
May do a noble deed!—he brings me liberty.
My resolution's plac'd, and I have nothing
Of woman in me; now from head to foot

I'm marble constant: now the fleeting moon
No planet is of mine. Enter Guardsman, and Clown with a basket.

Guards.
This is the man.

Cleo.
Avoid and leave him. [Exit Guardsman.
Hast thou the pretty worm of Nilus there,
That kills and pains not?

Clown.

Truly, I have him: but I would not be the party should desire you to touch him, for his biting is immortal: those, that do die of it, do seldom or never recover.

Cleo.

Remember'st thou any that have dy'd on't?

Clown.

Very many, men and women too. I heard of one of them no longer than yesterday, a very honest woman, but something given to lie, as a woman should not do, but in the way of honesty. How she dy'd of the biting of it, what pain she felt! truly, she makes a very good report o'th' worm: but he, that will believe half that they say, shall never be saved by all that they do:(70) ^note but this is most fallible, the worm's an odd worm.

Cleo.

Get thee hence, farewel.

Clown.

I wish you all joy of the worm.

Cleo.

Farewel.

Clown.

You must think this, look you, that the worm will do his kind.

Cleo.

Ay, ay, farewel.

Clown.

Look you, the worm is not to be trusted but in the keeping of wise people; for, indeed, there is no goodness in the worm.

Cleo.

Take thou no care, it shall be heeded.

Clown.

Very good, give it nothing, I pray you, for it is not worth the feeding.

Cleo.

Will it eat me?

Clown.

You must not think, I am so simple, but

I know the devil himself will not eat a woman: I know, that a woman is a dish for the Gods, if the devil dress her not. But, truly, these same whore-son devils do the Gods great harm in their women! for in every ten that they make, the devils mar five.

Cleo.

Well, get thee gone, farewel.

Clown.

Yes, forsooth, I wish you joy o'th' worm.

Cleo.
Give me my Robe, put on my Crown; I have
Immortal Longings in me. Now no more
The juice of Ægypt's grape shall moist this lip.
Yare, yare, good Iras; quick—methinks, I hear
Antony call, I see him rowse himself
To praise my noble act. (71) ^note

Char.
Dissolve, thick Cloud, and rain, that I may say,
The Gods themselves do weep.

Cleo.
This proves me base—
If she first meet the curled Antony,
He'll make demand of her, and spend that kiss,

Which is my heav'n to have. Come, mortal wretch,
With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate [To the serpent.
Of life at once untie: poor venomous fool,
Be angry, and dispatch. Oh, could'st thou speak,
That I might hear thee call great Cæsar ass,
Unpolicied!

Char.
Oh eastern star!

Cleo.
Peace, peace!
Dost thou not see my baby at my breast,
That sucks the nurse asleep?

Char.
O break! O break!

Cleo.
As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle,
O Antony!—Nay, I will take thee too.—(72) ^note

What should I stay— [Dies.

Char.
In this wild world? so, fare thee well:
Now boast thee, Death, in thy possession lies
A lass unparallel'd.—Downy windows, close;
And golden Phœbus never be beheld
Of eyes again so royal! your Crown's awry;
I'll mend it, and then play— Enter the Guard, rushing in.

1 Guard.
Where's the Queen?

Char.
Speak softly, wake her not.

1 Guard.
Cæsar hath sent.— [Charmian applies the asp.

Char.
Too slow a messenger.
Oh, come apace, dispatch, I partly feel thee.

1 Guard.
Approach, ho! all's not well. Cæsar's beguil'd.

2 Guard.
There's Dolabella sent from Cæsar; call him.

1 Guard.
What work is here, Charmian? is this well done?

Char.
It is well done, and fitting for a Princess
Descended of so many royal Kings.
Ah, soldiers!— [Charmian dies. Enter Dolabella.

Dol.
How goes it here?

2 Guard.
All dead!

Dol.
Cæsar, thy thoughts
Touch their effects in this; thy self art coming
To see perform'd the dreaded act, which thou
So sought'st to hinder.

Enter Cæsar and Attendants.

All.
Make way there, make way for Cæsar.

Dol.
Oh, Sir, you are too sure an augurer;
That you, did fear, is done.

Cæs.
Bravest at last:
She levell'd at our purpose, and, being royal,
Took her own way. The manner of their deaths?—
I do not see them bleed.

Dol.
Who was last with them?

1 Guard.
A simple countryman, that brought her figs;
This was his basket.

Cæs.
Poison'd then!

1 Gent.
Oh Cæsar!
This Charmian liv'd but now, she stood and spake:
I found her trimming up the diadem
On her dead mistress; tremblingly she stood,
And on the sudden dropt.

Cæs.
Oh noble weakness!
If they had swallow'd poison, 'twould appear
By external swelling; but she looks like Sleep;(73) ^note

As she would catch another Antony
In her strong toil of grace.

Dol.
Here, on her breast,
There is a vent of blood, and something blown:
The like is on her arm.

1 Guard.
This is an aspick's trail;
And these fig-leaves have slime upon them, such
As th' aspick leaves upon the caves of Nyle.

Cæs.
Most probable,
That so she died; for her physician tells me,
She hath pursu'd conclusions infinite
Of easie ways to die. Take up her bed,
And bear her women from the Monument:
She shall be buried by her Antony.
No Grave upon the earth shall clip in it
A Pair so famous. High events as these
Strike those that make them; and their story is
No less in pity, than his glory, which
Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall,
In solemn shew, attend this funeral;
And then to Rome: come, Dolabella, see
High Order in this great Solemnity. [Exeunt Omnes.

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