Me to proclaim the truth; and I am come,
I dread, too late.

Ant. Too late, good Diomed: call my guard, I prithee.

Dio. What, ho, the emperor's guard! The guard, what, ho!

Come, your lord calls!

Enter four or five of the Guard of ANTONY.

130

Ant. Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra bides;

'Tis the last service that I shall command you. First 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 wel

come

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.

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[Exeunt, bearing Antony.

SCENE XV. The same. A monument.

Enter CLEOPATRA, and her maids aloft, with
CHARMIAN and IRAS.

Cleo. O Charmian, I will never go from hence.
Be comforted, dear madam.

Char.

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, below, DIOMEDES.

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, below, ANTONY, borne by the Guard. Cleo.

O sun,

Burn the great sphere thou movest in! darkling stand

IO

The varying shore o' the world. O Antony, Antony, Antony! Help, Charmian, help, Iras, help;

Peace!

Help, friends below; let's draw him hither.
Ant.
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, Egypt, dying; only
I here importune death awhile, until
Of many thousand kisses the
I lay upon thy lips.
Cleo.

poor last

I dare not, dear,—

Dear my lord, pardon,-I dare not,

Lest I be taken: not the imperious show

Of the full-fortuned Cæsar ever shall

20

Be brooch'd* with me; if knife, drugs, serpents, have

Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe:

Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes

*Ornamented.

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.

31

O, 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,-O, come, come, come;
[They heave Antony aloft to Cleopatra.
And welcome, welcome! die where thou hast
lived:

Quicken with kissing: had my lips that power,
Thus would I wear them out.

All.

A heavy sight!

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Ant. I am dying, Egypt, 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 housewife Fortune break her wheel, Provoked by my offence. One word, sweet queen: Of Cæsar seek your honour, with your safety. O! Cleo. They do not go together.

Ant.

Ant.

Gentle, hear me:

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

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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 lived, the greatest prince o' the world, The noblest; and do now not basely die, Not 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.

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 sty? O, see, my women,

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[Antony dies. The crown o' the earth doth melt. My lord! O, wither'd is the garland of the war, 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.

Char.

[Faints.

O, quietness, lady!

Iras. She is dead too, our sovereign.

Char.

Iras.

Lady!
Madam!

Royal Egypt, 70

Char. O madam, madam, madam!

Iras.

Empress!

Char. Peace, peace, Iras!

Cleo. No more, but e'en a woman, and com

manded

By such poor passion as the maid that milks
And does the meanest chares.* It were for me
To throw my sceptre at the 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 *Task-work.
Become a dog that's mad: then is it sin
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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, 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 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.

91

[Exeunt; those above bearing off Antony's body

ACT V.

SCENE I. Alexandria. Cæsar's camp.

Enter CESAR, AGRIPPA, DOLABELLA, MECENAS, GALLUS, PROCULEIUS, and others, his council of

war.

Cæs. Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield; Being so frustrate,* tell him he mocks

The pauses that he makes.

Dol.

Cæsar, I shall.

*Frustrated.

[Exit.

Enter DERCETAS, with the sword of ANTONY.

Cæs. Wherefore is that? and what art thou that darest

Appear thus to us?

Der.

I am call'd Dercetas;

Mark Antony I served, who best was worthy Besi to be served: 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 say'st?

Der. I say, O Cæsar, Antony is dead.

ΙΟ

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.

Der.

He is dead, Cæsar;
Not by a public minister of justice,

Nor by a hired knife; but that self hand,
Which writ his honour in the acts it did,

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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.

The gods rebuke me, but it is tidings
To wash the eyes of kings.

Agr.

Look you sad, friends?

And strange it is,

His taints and honours 30

That nature must compel us to lament
Our most persisted deeds.

Mec.

A rarer spirit never

Waged equal with him.
Agr.
Did steer humanity: but you, gods, will give us
Some faults to make us men. Cæsar is touch'd.
Mec. When such a spacious mirror's set before
him,

He needs must see himself.

Cæs.

O Antony!

I have follow'd thee to this; but we do lance
Diseases in our bodies: I must perforce
Have shown 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 sovereign as the blood of hearts,

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