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,
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;

To be ungentle.

So the gods preserve thee!

[Exit.

Mess.
Cas. 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,
Exit PROCULEIUS.
Cas. Gallus, go you along. Where's Dolabella,
To second Proculeius ?
[Exit GALLUS.

Agr. Mec.

Dolabella!

Cas. Let him alone, for I remember now How he's employed; 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 show in this.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-Alexandria. A Room in the Monu

ment.

Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, and IRAS.
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 palates more the dung;
The beggar's nurse, and Cæsar's.

Enter, to the gates of the Monument, PROCULEIUS,
GALLUS, and Soldiers.

Pro. Cæsar sends greeting to the Queen of Egypt; And bids thee study on what fair demands Thou mean'st to have him grant thee. Cleo. [Within.]

Pro.My name is Proculeius

What's thy name?

Cleo. [Within.]

Antony

Did tell me of you,-bade 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 hiin,
That majesty, to keep decorum, must

No less beg than a kingdom: if he please
To give me conquer'd Egypt 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 are fallen 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 pay in aid for kindness,
Where he for grace is kneel'd to.

Cleo. [Within.]

Pray you, tell him I am his fortune's vassal, and I send him The greatness he has got. I hourly learn A doctrine of obedience; and would gladly Look him i'the face.

Pro.

This I'll report, dear lady. Have comfort; for, I know, your plight is pitied Of him that caus'd it.

Gal. You see how easily she may be surprised. [Here PROCULEIUS, and two of the Guard descend the Monument by a ladder placed against a window, and, having descended, come behind CLEOPATRA. Some of the Guard unbar and open the gates.

Guard her till Cæsar come.

[TO PROCULEIUS and the Guard. [Exit GALLUS. Iras. Royal queen!

Char. O, Cleopatra! thou art taken, queen!—
Cleo. Quick, quick, good hands.

Pro.

[Drawing a dagger.

Hold, worthy lady, hold: [Seizes her and disarms her.

Do not yourself 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
The undoing of yourself: let the world see
His nobleness well acted, which your death
Will never let come forth.

Cleo.
Where art thou, death?
Come hither, come! come, come, and take a queen
Worth many babes and beggars!

Pro.
O, 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: this mortal house I'll ruin,
Do Cæsar what he can. Know, sir, that I
Will not wait pinion'd at your master's court;
Nor once be chastis'd with the sober eye
Of dull Octavia. Shall they hoist me up,
And show me to the shouting varletry
Of censuring Rome ? Rather a ditch in Egypt
Be gentle grave to me! Rather on Nilus' mud
Lay me stark naked, and let the water-flies
Blow me into abhorring! Rather make
My country's high pyramides my gibbet
And hang me up in chains!

O, such another sleep, that I might see
But such another man!
Dol.
If it might please you,—
Cleo. His face was as the heavens; and therein
stuck

A sun and moon; which kept their course, and lighted
The little O, the 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 rattling thunder. For his bounty,
There was no winter in't; an autumn 'twas,
That grew the more by reaping: his delights
Were dolphin-like; they show'd his back above
The element they liv'd in: in his livery

Walked crowns and crownets; realms and islands

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 vie strange forms with fancy; yet, to imagine An Antony, were nature's piece 'gainst fancy, Condemning shadows quite.

Dol.
Hear me, good madam:
Your loss is as yourself, great; and you bear it
As answering to the weight: 'would I might never
O'ertake pursu'd success, but I do feel,

By the rebound of yours, a grief that shoots
My very heart at root.

Cleo.

I thank you, sir.

We will extenuate rather than enforce:
If you apply yourself 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 yourself
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.
Cas. You shall advise me in all for Cleopatra.
Cleo. This is the brief of money, plate, and jewels,
I am possess'd 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 myself 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.

Ces, Nay, blush not, Cleopatra; I approve
Your wisdom in the deed.
Cleo.

See, Cæsar! O, behold,
How pomp is follow'd! mine will now be yours;
And, should we shift estates, your's would be mine.
The ingratitude of this Seleucus does
Even make we wild: O, 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, soulless villain, dog!
O, rarely base!
Good queen, let us entreat you.
Cleo, O, Caesar, what a wounding shame is this!
That thou, vouchsafing here to visit me,
Doing the honour of thy lordliness

To one so meek, 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 reserved,
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. Pr'ythee, go hence;

[TO SELEUCUS. Or I shall show the cinders of my spirits Through the ashes of my chance: wert thou a man, Thou wouldst have mercy on me. Cas

Forbear, Seleucus.

[Exit SELEUCUS.

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

thought

For things that others do; and, wheu we fall, We answer others' merits in our name,

Are therefore to be pitied.

Cas

Cleopatra,

Not what you have reserv'd, nor what acknowledg'd, Put we i'the roll of conquest: still be it 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

Yourself 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!
Cas.

Not so: adieu.

[Exeunt CESAR, and his Train,

Cleo. He words me, girls, he words me, that I

should not

O, the good gods!

Cleo. Nay, that is certain.

Iras. I'll never see it; 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.

Show me, my women, like a queen;-go fetch
My best attires;-I am again for Cydnus,
To meet Mark Antony: sirrah, Iras, go.-
Now, noble Charmian, we'll despatch indeed:

And, when thou hast done this chare, I'll give thee leave

To play till doomsday.-Bring our crown and all.
Wherefore's this noise ?

[Exit IRAS. A noise within. Enter one of the Guard.

Here is a rural fellow,

Guard.
That will not be denied your highness' presence;
He brings you figs.
Cleo. Let him come in. How poor an instrument
[Exit Guard.

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.

Re-enter Guard with a Clown, bringing a basket.
Guard.
This is the man.
Cleo. Avoid, and leave him.
[Exit Guard.
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. Rememberest thou any that have died 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 died of the biting of it, what pain she felt,-truly, she makes a very good report o' the 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; farewell!

Clown. I wish you all joy of the worm.

Cleo. Farewell!

[Clown sets down the basket

Clown. You must think this, look you, that the worm will do his kind.

Cleo. Av, ay, farewell.

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 thou 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 whoreson 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; farewell.

Clown. Yes, forsooth; I wish you joy of the worm. [Exit.

Re-enter IRAS, with a robe, crown, &c. Cleo. Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have Inmortal longings in me: now no more The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip:Yare, yare, good Iras; quick. Methinks, I hear Antony call; I see him rouse 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.
Farewell, kind Charmian!-Iras, long farewell!
[Kisses them. Iras falls and dies.
Have I the aspick in my lips? Dost fall?
If thou and nature can so gently part,
The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch,
Which hurts, and is desir'd. Dost thou lie 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 first meet the curled Antony,

He'll make demand of her; and spend that kiss,
Which is my heaven to have. Come, mortal wretch,
[To the asp, which she applies to her breast.
With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate
Of life at once untie: poor venomous fool,
Be angry, and despatch. O, couldst thou speak!
That I might hear thee call great Cæsar ass
Unpolicied!

Char. O, 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:-
[Applying another asp to her arm.
What should I stay- [Falls on a bed, and dies.
Char. In this wide world -So, fare thee well!—
Now boast thee, death! in thy possession lies
A lass unparallel'd.- Downy windows, close;
And golden Phoebus never be beheld

Of eyes again so royal! Your crown's awry;
I'll mend it, and then play.

Enter the Guard, rushing in.

1 Guard. Where is the queen ? Char.

Speak softly, wake her not. Too slow a messenger. [Applies the asp.

1 Guard. Cæsar hath sentChar.

O, come; apace, despatch: I partly feel thee. 1 Guard. Approach, ho! all's not well: Cæsar's

beguil'd.

Dol.

All dead.

[Dies.

Cæsar, thy thoughts Touch their effects in this: thyself art coming To see perform'd the dreaded act, which thou So sought'st to hinder. Within.

A way there, a way for Cæsar! Enter CESAR and Attendants. Dol. O, sir, you are too sure an augurer; That you did fear is done.

Cæs. Bravest at the last: She levelled 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.

1 Guard.

Poison'd, then.

O, Cæsar,
This Charmian lived but now; she stood, and spake:
I found her trimming up the diadem
On her dead mistress; tremblingly she stood,
And on the sudden dropp'd.

Cæs.
O, noble weakness!-
If they had swallow'd 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

SCENE I.-Britain.

ACT I.

1 Gent. I cannot delve him to the root: his father
Was called Sicilius, who did join his honour,
Against the Romans, with Cassibelan;
But had his titles by Tenantius, whom
He serv'd with glory and admir'd success:
So gain'd the sur-addition, Leonatus :
And had, besides this gentleman in question,
Two other sons, who, in the wars o'the time,
Died with their swords in hand; for which, their fa-
ther

(Then old, and fond of issue), took such sorrow,
That he quit being; and his gentle lady,
Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceas'd
As he was born. The king, he takes the babe
To his protection; calls him Posthumus;
Breeds him, and makes him of his bed-chamber:
Puts him to all the learnings that his time
Could make him the receiver of; which he took,
As we do air, fast as 'twas minister'd; and
In his spring became a harvest: liv'd in court
(Which rare it is to do) most prais'd, most lov'd:
A sample to the youngest; to the more mature,
A glass that featured them; and to the graver,
A child that guided dofards: to his mistress,
For whom he now is banish'd,-her own price
Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his virtue;
By her election may be truly read,
What kind of man he is.

2 Gent,
I honour him
Even out of your report. But, 'pray you,
Is she sole child to the king?

tell

me,

His only child.

line's Palace.

Enter Two Gentlemen.

Were stolen; and to this hour no guess in knowledge Which way they went.

2 Gent.

How long is this ago ?

1 Gent. Some twenty years.

2 Gent. That a king's children should be so con

vey'd!

So slackly guarded! and the search so slow, That could not trace them!

1 Gent.

Howsoe'er 'tis strange,

Or that the negligence may well be laugh'd at, Yet is it true, sir.

2 Gent.

I do well believe you.

1 Gent. We must forbear: here comes the queen and princess.

SCENE II.-The same.

[Exeunt.

After the slander of most step-mothers,

Evil-ey'd unto you: you are my prisoner, but
Your jailer shall deliver you the keys

That lock up your restraint. For yon, Posthumus,
So soon as I can win the offended king,

I will be known your advocate: marry, yet
The fire of rage is in him; and 'twere good,
You lean'd unto his sentence, with what patience
Your wisdom may inform you.

Post.

I will from hence to-day. Queen.

Please your highness,

You know the peril : I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying The pangs of barr'd affections; though the king Hath charg'd you should not speak together. [Exit QUERN.

Imo.

Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant

Can tickle where she wounds !-My dearest husband,
I something fear my father's wrath; but nothing
(Always reserv'd my holy duty), what

His rage can do on me: you must be gone;
And I shall here abide the hourly shot
Of angry eyes; not comforted to live,
But that there is this jewel in the world,
That I may see again.

Post. My queen! my mistress!

O, lady, weep no more; lest I give cause
To be suspected of more tenderness
Than deth become a man! I will remain

The loyal'st husband that did e'er plight troth.
My residence in Rome, at one Philario's;
Who to my father was a friend, to me
Known but by letter: thither write, my queen,
And with mine eyes I'll drink the words you send,
Though ink be made of gall.

Re-enter QUEEN.

Queen. Be brief, I pray you: If the king come, I shall incur I know not How much of his displeasure: yet I'll move him

No harm, I trust, is done?

Pis.

[Aside.

To walk this way: I never do him wrong, But he does buy my injuries, to be friends; Pavs dear for my offences.

Post.

[Exit.
Should we be taking leave
As long a term as yet we have to live,
The loathness to depart would grow: adieu!
Imo. Nay, stay a little:

Were you but riding forth to air yourself,
Such parting were too petty. Look here, love;
This diamond was my mother's: take it, heart;
But keep it till you woo another wife,
When Imogen is dead.

Post. How! how! another?-
You gentle gods, give me but this I have,
And sear up my embracements from a next
With bonds of death !-Remain thou here

Ha!

There might have been, But that my master rather play'd than fought, And had no help of anger: they were parted By gentlemen at hand.

Queen.

I am very glad on't.

Imo. Your son's my father's friend; he takes his

part.

To draw upon an exile !-O, brave sir!

I would they were in Afric both together;
Myself by with a needle, that I might prick
The goer back.-Why came you from your master?
Pis. On his command: he would not suffer me

To bring him to the haven: left these notes
Of what commands I should be subject to,
When it pleas'd you to employ me.

Queen.

This hath been

Your faithful servant; I dare lay mine honour, He will remain so.

Pis.

I humbly thank your highness.
Queen. Pray, walk awhile,
Imo.

About some half-hour hence,
I pray you, speak with me: you shall, at least,
Go see my lord aboard: for this time, leave me.
[Exeunt.

SCENE III.-A Public Place.

Enter CLOTEN; and two Lords.

1 Lord. Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the violence of action hath made you reek as a sacri fice: where air comes out, air comes in: there's noue abroad so wholesome as that you vent.

Clo. If my shirt were bloody, then to shift itHave I hurt him ?

2 Lord. No, faith; not so much as his patience. [Aside. 1 Lord. Hurt him! his body's a passable carcass, if he be not hurt: it is a thoroughfare for steel, if it be not hurt.

2 Lord. His steel was in debt: it went o'the back side the town. [Aside.

Clo. The villain would not stand me.

2 Lord. No; but he fled forward still, toward your face. [Aside. 1 Lord. Stand you! You had land enough of your own: but he added to your having; gave you some ground.

2 Lord. As many inches as you have oceans: puppies! [Aside. Clo. I would, they had not come between us. 2 Lord. So would I, till you had measured how long a fool you were upon the ground. [Aside. Clo. And that she should love this fellow, and re

fuse me!

2 Lord. If it be a sin to make a true election, she is damned. [Aside.

1 Lord. Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain go not together: she's a good sign, but I have seen small reflection of her wit.

2 Lord. She shines not upon fools, lest the reflection should hurt her. [Aside.

Clo. Come, I'll to my chamber: 'would there had been some hurt done!

2 Lord. I wish not so; unless it had been the fall

of an ass, which is no great hurt.