Cleo.
Oh Charmion, I will never go from hence.

Char.
Be comforted, dear Madam.

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

Dio.
His death's upon him, but not dead.
Look out o' th' other side your Monument,
His guard have brought him thither.

Enter Antony, borne by the Guard.

Cleo.
^{4 note}

Ant.
Peace.
Not Cæsar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony,
But Antony's hath triumph'd on itself.

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

Ant.
I am dying, Ægypt, dying; only yet
^{5 note}

Cleo.
I dare not, dear,
Dear, my Lord, pardon, I dare not,

Lest I be taken. Not th' imperious shew
Of the full fortun'd Cæsar ever shall
Be brooch'd with me; if knife, drugs, serpents, have
Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe.
Your Wife Octavia, with her modest eyes
And ^{6 note}still conclusion, shall acquire no honour
Demuring upon me. But come, come, Antony.
Help me, my women. We must draw thee up—
Assist, good friends.

Ant.
Oh, quick, or I am gone.

Cleo.
^{7 note}Here's sport, indeed!—how heavy weighs my Lord!
Our strength is all gone into heaviness,
That makes the weight. Had I great Juno's power,
The strong'd-wing'd Mercury should fetch thee up,
And set thee by Jove's side. Yet come a little—
Wishers were ever fools. Oh come, come, come— [They draw Antony up to Cleopatra.
And welcome, welcome. Die, where thou hast liv'd.

^{8 note}Quicken with kissing. Had my lips that power,
Thus would I wear them out.

All.
O heavy sight!

Ant.
I am dying, Ægypt, dying.
Give me some wine, and let me speak a little.

Cleo.
No, let me speak, and let me rail so high,
That the false ^{9 note}huswife Fortune break her wheel,
Provok'd by my offence.

Ant.
One word, sweet Queen.
Of Cæsar seek your honour with your safety—oh—

Cleo.
They do not go together.

Ant.
Gentle, hear me.
None about Cæsar trust, but Proculeius.

Cleo.
My resolution and my hands I'll trust;
None about Cæsar.

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

Cleo.
Noblest of men, woo 't die?
Hast thou no care of me? shall I abide
In this dull world, which in thy absence is
No better than a stye? O see, my women!
The crown o' th' earth doth melt—my Lord!
Oh, wither'd is the garland of the war,
^{1 note}The soldier's pole is fall'n; young boys and girls
Are level now with men; the odds is gone;

And there is nothing left remarkable,
Beneath the visiting moon. [She faints.

Char.
Oh, quietness, Lady!

Iras.
She's dead too; our sovereign.

Char.
Lady!

Iras.
Madam!

Char.
Oh Madam, Madam, Madam—

Iras.
Royal Ægypt! Empress!

Char.
^{2 note}

Cleo.
No more but in a woman, and commanded
By such poor passion as the maid that milks,
And does the meanest chares!—It were for me
To throw my scepter at th' injurious Gods;
To tell them, that this world did equal theirs,
'Till they had stol'n our jewel. All's but naught.
Patience is sottish, and impatience does
Become a dog that's mad. Then is it sin,
To rush into the secret house of death,
Ere death dare come to us? how do you, women?
What, what. Good cheer! Why, how now, Charmion?
My noble girls?—ah, women, women; look,
Our lamp is spent, it's out—Good Sirs, take heart,
We'll bury him; and then what's brave, what's noble,
Let's do it after the high Roman fashion,
And make death proud to take us. Come away,
This case of that huge spirit now is cold.
Ah, women, women! come, we have no friend
But resolution, and the briefest end. [Exeunt, bearing off Antony's body.

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