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 Cittadel, 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.

Eros.
Ay, my Lord.

Ant.
That which is now a Horse, even with a Thought
The Rack dislimn's, 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 am 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 plaid my Glory
Unto an Enemy's Triumph.

Nay, weep not, gentle Eros, there is left us
Our selves to end our selves. Oh the vile Lady! Enter Mardian.
She 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 betraid 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. Oh, pluck off, [Exit Mardian.
The seven-fold shield of Ajax cannot keep
The battery from my Heart. Oh cleave my sides.
Heart, once be stronger than thy Continent, [Unarming himself.
Crack thy frail Case. Apace, Eros, apace,
No more a Soldier—bruised pieces go,
You have been nobly born; from me a while. [Exit Eros.
I will o'er-take thee, Cleopatra, and
Weep for my pardon. So it must be, for now
All length is Torture; since the Torch is out,
Lye down and stray no farther. Now all labour
Marrs what it does, yea, very force entangles
It self with strength; seal 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;
Dido, and her Æneas shall want Troops,
And all the haunt be ours. Come, Eros, Eros!

Enter Eros.

Eros.
What would my Lord?

Ant.
Since Cleopatra died,
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 my self, to lack
The Courage of a Woman; less noble minded
Than she which, by her death, our Cæsar tells,
I am 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't, the time is come:
Thou strik'st not me, 'till Cæsar thou defeat'st.
Put colour in my 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 lyes.

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— [Eros kills himself.
Thus I do escape the sorrow of Antony's death.

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 dead? not dead?—
The Guard—how!—oh dispatch me. Enter Decretas and Guard.

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 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.
Not I.

3 Guard.
Nor any one. [Exeunt.

Dec.
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?

Dec.
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 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 prethee.

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.

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.

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