Ant. 'Tis said, man ;-and farewell. Eros. Farewell, great chief. Shall I strike now? Ant. Now, Eros. Eros. Why, there then :-[Falls on his sword. Thus do I escape the sorrow Of Antony's death. Ant. [Dies. Thrice nobler than myself! Thou teachest me, O valiant Eros, what I should, and thou could'st not. My queen and Eros A bridegroom in my death, and run into't [Falling on his sword. I learn'd of thee. How! not yet dead? not dead?→→ The guard!-ho!-O, despatch me. 1 Guard. Enter Dercetas and Guard. What's the noise? Ant. I have done my work ill, friends; O, make an end Of what I have begun. 2 Guard. 1 Guard. And time is at his period. All. Ant. Let him that loves me, strike me dead. 1 Guard. 2 Guard. Nor I. 3 Guard. Nor any one. The star is fallen. Alas, and woe! Not I. [Exeunt Guard. Der. Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers fly. This sword but shown to Cæsar, with this tidings, Shall enter me with him. 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. Dio. Ant. Now, my lord. Where is she? Dio. Lock'd in her monument. She had a pro phesying fear Of what hath come to pass: for when she saw dead; But, fearing since how it might work, hath sent I dread, too late. Ant. Too late, good Diomed:-Call my guard, I pr'ythee. Dio. What ho! the emperor's guard! The guard, what, ho! Come, your lord calls. Enter some of the Guard. Ant. Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra bides; 'Tis the last service that I shall command you. 1 Guard. 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 * Settled. I have led you oft; carry me now, good friends, And have my thanks for all. [Exeunt, bearing Antony. SCENE XIII. The same. A monument. Enter above, Cleopatra, Charmian, and Iras. Cleo. O 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 Enter Diomedes. As that which makes it.-How now? is he dead? Enter Antony, borne by the Guard. Cleo. O thou sun, Burn the great sphere thou mov'st in!-darkling* stand The varying shore o'the world!-O Antony! Antony, Antony!-Charmian, help; help, Iras; Help, friends below; let's draw him hither. Ant. Not Cæsar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony, Without light. Peace: Cleo. So it should be, that none but Antony Cleo. I dare not, dear (Dear my lord, pardon), I dare not, Lest I be taken: not the imperious show Be brooch'd with me; if knife, drugs, serpents, have Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes, And still conclusiont, shall acquire no honour Demuring upon me.-But come, come, Antony,Help me, my women,-we must draw thee up ;Assist, good friends. Ant. 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, And welcome, welcome! die, where thou hast liv'd: All. A heavy sight! 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, Provok'd by my offence. Ant. One word, sweet queen: Of Cæsar seek your honour, with your safety.-O! * Ornamented. + Sedate determination. Revive. 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' the world, The noblest 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. Cleo. Noblest of men, woo't die? Hast thou no care of me? shall I abide [Dies. In this dull world, which in thy absence is The soldier's pole is fallen; young boys, and girls, And there is nothing left remarkable Beneath the visiting moon. Char. Iras. She is dead too, our sovereign. Char. Iras. [She faints. O, quietness, lady! Lady, Madam, Royal Egypt! Char. O madam, madam, madam! Iras. Empress ! Char. Peace, peace, Iras, Cleo. No more, bute'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 scepter at the injurious gods; To tell them, that this world did equal theirs, |