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 hast seen these signs;
They are black vesper's pageants. 9Q0967

Eros.
Ay, my lord.

Ant.
That, which is now a horse, even with a thought,
^{3 note}The rack dislimns; and makes it indistinct,
As water is in water.

Eros.
It does, my lord.

Ant.
My good knave, Eros^{4 note}

^{5 note}

Mar.
No, Antony;
My mistress lov'd thee, and her fortunes mingled
With thine entirely.

Ant.
Hence, saucy eunuch; peace;
She hath betray'd me, and shall die the death.

Mar.
Death of one person can be paid but once;
And that she hath 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 render'd life,
The name so buried in her.

Ant.
Dead then?

Mar.
Dead.

Ant.
Unarm, Eros; the long day's task is done,
And we must sleep:—That thou depart'st hence safe,
Does pay thy labour richly; Go.—Off, pluck off;— [Exit Mardian.
The seven-fold shield of Ajax cannot keep
^{6 note}
The battery from my heart. O, cleave, my sides!
Heart, once be stronger than thy continent^{7 note},
Crack thy frail case!—Apace, Eros, apace.—
No more a soldier:—Bruised pieces, go;
You have been nobly borne.—From me a while.— [Exit Eros.
I will o'ertake thee, Cleopatra, and
Weep for my pardon. So it 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: ^{8 note}

And all the haunt be ours.—Come, Eros, Eros! Re-enter Eros.

Eros.
What would my lord?

Ant.
Since Cleopatra dy'd,
I have 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 mind
Than she, which, by her death, our Cæsar tells,
I am conqueror of myself. Thou art sworn, Eros,
That, when the exigent should come, (which now
Is come, indeed) when I should see behind me
The inevitable prosecution of
Disgrace and horror, that, on my command,
Thou then would'st kill me: do't, the time is come:
Thou strik'st not me, 'tis Cæsar thou defeat'st.
Put colour in thy cheek.

Eros.
The gods withhold me!
Shall I do that, which all the Parthian darts,
Though enemy, lost aim, and could not?

Ant.
Eros,
Would'st thou be window'd in great Rome, and see
Thy master thus ^{9 note}

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.
O, sir, pardon me.

Ant.
When I did make thee free^{3 note}, 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 ^{4 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 emperor! 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:—Thus do I escape the sorrow [Eros kills himself.
Of Antony's death. [Dies.

Ant.
Thrice nobler than myself!
Thou teachest me, O 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: ^{1 note}


But I will be
A bridegroom in my death, and run into't
As to a lover's bed. 9Q0969 Come then; and, Eros,
Thy master dies thy scholar; to do thus [Falling on his sword.
I learn'd of thee. How! not dead? not dead?—
The guard?—how!— 9Q0970O, dispatch me. Enter Dercetas, and Guards.

1 Guard.
What's the noise?

Ant.
I have done my work ill, friends; O, make an end
Of what I have begun.

2 Guard.
The star is fallen.

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? [Exit Dercetas.

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.
Lock'd 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^{2 note} with Cæsar, and that your rage
Would not be purg'd, she sent you 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, ho!
Come, your lord calls.

Enter a Guard.

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

1 Guard.
Woe, woe, are we, sir, you may not live to wear
All your true followers 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. SCENE XIII. A Monument. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, and Iras, above.

Cleo.
O Charmian, 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 Enter Diomedes.
As that which makes it.—How now? is he dead?

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

Enter Antony, borne by the guard.

Cleo.
^{3 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
^{5 note}

Of many thousand kisses the poor last
I lay upon thy lips.—

Cleo.
I dare not,
Dear, dear, my lord, pardon; I dare not,
Lest I be taken: not the imperious shew
Of the full-fortun'd Cæsar ever shall
Be brooch'd with me^{6 note}

Edge, sting, or operation^{7 note}

Ant.
O, quick, or I am gone,

Cleo.
^{9 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-wing'd Mercury should fetch thee up,
And set thee by Jove's side. Yet come a little,—
Wishers were ever fools;—O, come, come, come;— [They draw Antony up to Cleopatra.
And welcome, welcome! die, where thou hast liv'd:
^{1 note}

All.
A heavy sight!

Ant.
I am dying, Ægypt, dying:
Give me some wine, and let me speak a little^{2 note}.

Cleo.
No, let me speak; and let me rail so high,
That the false ^{3 note}huswife Fortune break her wheel,
Provok'd by my offence.

Ant.
One word, sweet queen:
Of Cæsar seek your honour, with your safety.—O!—

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^{4 note},
Lament nor sorrow at: but please your thoughts
In feeding them with those my former fortunes
Wherein I liv'd, the greatest prince o' the 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' the earth doth melt:—My lord!—
O, wither'd is the garland of the war,
^{5 note}The soldier's pole is fallen; 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.
O, quietness, lady!

Iras.
She is dead too, our sovereign.

Char.
Lady!

Iras.
Madam!—

Char.
O madam, madam, madam,—

Iras.
Royal Ægypt! empress!

Char.
^{6 note}

Cleo.
No more—but e'en a woman; and commanded

By such poor passion as the maid that milks,
And does the meanest chares^{7 note}