Cleo.
Oh 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
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 hither. Enter Antony, born by the Guard.

Cleo.
O Sun,
Burn the great Sphere thou mov'st in, darkling stand
The varying Shore o'th'World. O Antony! Antony! Antony!
Help, Charmian, help, Iras, help; help, Friends,
Below, let's draw him hither.

Ant.
Peace,
Not Cæsar's Valour hath o'er-thrown Antony,
But Antony hath triumpht on himself.

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

Ant.
I am dying, Ægypt, dying; only
I here importune Death awhile, until
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 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 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.
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. Oh come, come, come— [They draw Antony up to Cleopatra.

And welcome, welcome. Die when thou hast liv'd,
Quicken with kissing; had my Lips that power,
Thus would I wear them out.

All.
Oh 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 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 once; 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,
The Soldiers Pole is faln: 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.
Peace, peace, Iras.

Cleo.
No more but a meer 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 the injurious Gods,
To tell them that this world did equal theirs,
'Till they had stoln our Jewel. All's but nought:
Patience is sottish, and Impatience does
Become a Dog that's mad: Then is it sin,
To rush into the secret House of death,
E'er death dare come to us? How do you, Women?
What, what good cheer? why how now, Charmian?
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't 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. SCENE VII. Cæsar's Camp. Enter Cæsar, Agrippa, Dolabella, and Menas.

Cæs.
Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield,
Being so frustrate, tell him,
He mocks the pawses that he makes.

Dol.
Cæsar, I shall. Enter Decretas with the Sword of Antony.

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

Dec.
I am called Decretas,
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 sayest?

Dec.
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 to their Dens. The Death of Antony
Is not a single Doom, in the name lay
A moiety of the World.

Dec.
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,
The Gods rebuke me, but it is a Tiding
To wash the Eyes of Kings.

Dol.
And strange it is,
That Nature must compel us to lament
Our most persisted Deeds.

Men.
His taints and honours weigh'd equal in him.

Dol.
A rarer Spirit never
Did steer humanity; but you Gods will give us
Some faults to make us Men. Cæsar is touch'd.

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

Cæs.
Oh Antony!
I have followed thee to this, but we do launch
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 his Thoughts did kindle; that our Stars
Unreconcileable, should divide 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 honourable, and how kindly we
Determine for her. For Cæsar cannot leave to be ungentle.

Ægypt.
So 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.

Cæs.

Gallus, go you along; where's Dolabella, to second Proculeius?

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 VIII. The Monument. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, Mardian, and Seleucus.

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 pallats more the dung,
The Beggar's Nurse, and Cæsar's. Enter Proculeius.

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 reference 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 Conqueror that will pray in aid for kindness,
Where he for Grace is kneel'd to.

Cleo.
Pray you tell him,
I am his Fortunes 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 pitied
Of him that caus'd it.

Char.
You see how easily she may be surpris'd:
Guard her 'till Cæsar come.

Iras.
Royal Queen.

Char.
Oh Cleopatra, thou art taken Queen.

Cleo.
Quick, quick, good hands.

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.
Cleopatra, 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 the 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. Tis mortal house I'll ruin,
Do Cæsar what he can. Know, Sir, that I
Will not wait pinnion'd at your Master's Court,
Not once to be chastis'd with the sober Eye
Of dull Octavia. Shall they hoist me up,
And shew me to the shouting Varlotry
Of censuring Rome? rather a ditch in Ægypt.
But 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, my 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. [Exit Proculeius.

Cleo.
Say, I would die.

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 Emperor 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
The little o'th' Earth.

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, and that to Friends:
But when he meant to quail, and shake the Orb,
He was as ratling Thunder. For his bounty,
There was no Winter in't. An Antony it was,
That grew the more by reaping: his delights
Were Dolphin-like, they shew'd his back above
The Element they liv'd in; In his Livery
Walk'd Crowns and Crownets: Realms and Islands
As Plates dropt from his Pocket.

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
To vy strange forms with Fancy, yet t'imagine
An Antony were Nature's piece, 'gainst Fancy,
Condemning Shadows quite.

Dol.
Hear me, good Madam:
Your loss is as your self, great; and you bear it
As answering 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 suits
My very Heart at Root.

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

Dol.
I am 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. Enter Cæsar, Gallus, Mecænas, Proculeius and Attendants.

All.
Make way there—Cæsar.

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 towards 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 rely. 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.

Cleo.
This is the brief: of Mony, Plate, and Jewels
I am possest of, 'tis exactly valued,
Not petty things admitted. Where's Seleucus?

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 followed: mine will now be yours,
And should we shift Estates, yours would be mine.
The ingratitude of this Seleucus, do's
Even 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, Villian, 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
To one so meck, that mine own Servant should
Parcel the sum of my disgraces, by
Addition of his Envy! Say, good Cæsar,
That I some Lady-trifles have reserv'd,
Immoment toys, things of such Dignity
As we greet modern Friends withal, and say
Some Nobler Token I have kept apart
For Livia and Octavia, to induce
Their mediation, must I be unfolded
With one that I have bred? the gods! it smites me
Beneath the fall I have. Prethee go hence,
Or I shall shew the Cynders of my Spirits
Through th'ashes of my chance: Wert thou a Man,
Thou would'st have mercy on me.

Cæs.
Forbear, Seleucus.

Cleo.
Be it known, that we the greatest are mis-thought
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 me 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.

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

Cleo.
Hie thee again.
I have spoke already, and it is provided,
Go put it to the haste.

Char.
Madam, I will. Enter Dolabella.

Dol.
Where's 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 a tune. The quick Comedians
Extemporally will stage us, and present
Our Alexandrian Revels: Antony
Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see
Some speaking 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't; for I am sure my Nails
Are stronger than mine Eyes.

Cleo.
Why that's the way
To fool their preparation and to conquer
Their most absurd intents. Now Charmian. Enter Charmian.
Shew me my Women like a Queen: Go fetch
My best Attires. I am again for Cidnus
To meet Mark Antony. Sirrah Iras, go,
Now, noble Charmian, we'll dispatch indeed,
And when thou hast done this chare, I'll give thee leave
To play 'till Doom's-day: bring our Crown, and all [A noise within.
Wherefore this noise? Enter a Guardsman.

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 am 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 that 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 all that they say, shall never be saved by half that they do: 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 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. [Exit.

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 his Lip.
Yare, yare, good Iras, quick—methinks I hear

Antony call, I see him rowse himself
To praise my noble Act. I hear him mock
The luck of Cæsar, which the gods give Men
To excuse their after wrath. Husband, I come;
Now to that Name, my Courage prove my Title.
I am Fire, and Air; my other Elements
I give to baser life. So—have you done?
Come then, and take the last warmth of my Lips.
Farewel kind Charmian, Iras, long farewel. [Applying the Asp.
Have I the Aspick in my Lips? Dost fall?
If thou and Nature can so gently part,
The stroke of Death is as a Lovers Pinch,
Which hurts, and is desir'd. Dost thou lye still?
If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the World
It is not worth leave taking.

Char.
Dissolve thick Cloud and Rain, that I may say,
The gods themselves do weep.

Cleo.
This proves me base—
If she approves the curled Antony,
He'll make demand of her, and spend that kiss
Which is my Heav'n to have. Come thou mortal wretch,
With thy sharp Teeth this knot intrinsicate
Of life at once untie: Poor venomous Fool,
Be angry and dispatch. Oh couldst 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.
What should I stay— [Dies.

Char.
In this wild World? so fare thee well:
Now boast thee Death, in thy possession lyes
A Lass unparallel'd. Downy Windows close,
And Golden Phœbus never be beheld
Of Eyes again so Royal: your Crowns away,
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— [Charmain and Iras apply 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's well done, and fitting for a Princess
Descended of so many Royal Kings.
Ah Soldiers!— [Charmian and Iras Die. 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 the last,
She levell'd at our purposes, 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 Guard.
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.

Cæsar.
Oh noble weakness
If they had swallowed Poison, 'twould appear.
By external Swelling; but she looks like sleep.

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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