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, ev'n with a thought
The Rack dislimns, and makes it indistinct
As water is in water.

Eros.
It does, my Lord.

Ant.
My good knave, Eros, now thy Captain is
Ev'n 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 annex'd unto't
A million more, now lost!) she, Eros, has

^{7 note}

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

Ant.
Hence, saucy 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 wouldst 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
^{8 note}
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,
Lie down and stray no further. Now all labour
Marrs what it does, yea, very force entangles
Itself with strength; ^{9 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 myself, to lack
The courage of a woman; less noble-minded
Than she, which, by her death, our Cæsar tells,
“I'm conqueror of myself.” 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 horror, 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 ^{1 note}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
^{2 note}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 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 ^{3 note}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 do I escape the sorrow
Of Antony's death. [Dies.

Ant.
Thrice nobler than myself!
Thou teachest me, oh, valiant Eros, what
I should, and thou couldst 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.

Previous section

Next section