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Iras. She is dead too, our sovereign.
Char. Lady—

Iras. Madam—

Char. O madam, madam, madam!
Iras. Royal Egypt!

Empress!

Char. Peace, peace, Iras.

[Seeing her recover.

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

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 but naught:
Patience is sottish; and impatience does
Become a dog that's mad. Then is it sin

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, Char

mian?

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.

[Exeunt.

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.

Camp before Alexandria.

Enter OCTAVIUS CESAR, with DOLABELLA,AGRIPPA, MECENAS, GALLUS, PROCULEIUS, and Others.

Oct. Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield;

Being so frustrated, tell him he mocks

The pauses that he makes.

Dol. Cæsar, I shall.

[Exit DOLABELLA,

Enter DERCETAS, with Antony's Sword.

Oct. Wherefore is that? and what art thou, that dar'st

Appear thus to us?

Der. I am call'd Dercetas;

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.

Oct. What is't thou say'st?

Der. I say, O Cæsar, Antony, is dead.

Oct. The breaking of so great a thing should make

A greater crack in nature: the round world

Should have shook lions into civil streets,

H

And citizens to their dens: The death of Antony

Is not a single doom; in that 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,
Hath, with the courage which the heart did lend it,
Splitted the heart itself. This is his sword,
I robb'd his wound of it; behold it stain'd
With his most noble blood.

Oct. Look you sad, friends?

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

Agrip. And strange it is,

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

Oct. O Antony,

I have follow'd thee to this:—But we do launch
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,
Unreconciliable, should divide

Our equalness to this.—Hear me, good friends,—

Enter Mardian.

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, sir?

Mar. A poor Egyptian; the queen, my mistress,

Confin'd in all she has, her monument,
Of thy intents desires instruction;
That she preparedly may frame herself
To the way she's forc'd to.

Oct. Bid her have good heart;

She soon shall know of us, by some of ours,
How honourably and how kindly we
Determin'd for her; for Cæsar cannot live
To be ungentle.

Mar. So the gods preserve thee!

[Exit.

Oct. 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 eternaling our triumph: Go;

And, with your speediest, bring us what she says,

And how you find of her.

Proc. Cæsar, I shall.

[Exit.

Oct. Gallus, go you along. [Exit Gallus.] Where's Dolabella,

To second Proculeius?

Agrip. Dolabella!

Oct. 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 show in this.

[Exeunt.

76

SCENE II.

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Alexandria.

A Room in the Monument.

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.

Proculeius and Gallus, with Soldiers,
at the Door of the Monument, without.

Proc. 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. What's thy name?

Proc. My name is Proculeius.

Cleo. 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 him,

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 my own, as I
Will kneel to him with thanks.

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