Imagens das páginas
PDF
ePub

A heavy sight!

All.

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.

Ant.

One word, sweet Queen :

Of Cæsar seek your honour, with your safety. —O!
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 lived 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;

with her into these monuments, drew Antonius up. They that were present to behold it said they never saw so pitiful a sight. For they plucked up poor Antonius, all bloody as he was, and drawing on with pangs of death; who, holding up his hands to Cleopatra, raised up himself as well as he could. It was a hard thing for these women to do; but Cleopatra, putting-to all her strength, did lift him up with much ado, and never let go her hold, with the help of the women beneath, that bade her be of good courage, and were as sorry to see her labour so as she herself. So, when she had gotten him in after that sort, and laid him on a bed, she rent her garments upon him, clapping her breast, and scratching her face and stomach. Then she dried up his blood that had berayed his face, and called him her lord, her husband, and emperor, forgetting her own misery and calamity for the pity and compassion she took of him. Antonius made her cease her lamenting, and called for wine, either because he was athirst, or else for that he thought thereby to hasten his own death. - PLUTARCH.

7 When he had drunk, he earnestly prayed her, that she would seek to

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,
The crown o' the Earth doth melt.

O, wither'd is the garland of the war,

[ANTONY dies.

My lord! my lord!

The soldier's pole 9 is fall'n; young boys and girls

Are level now with men; the odds is gone,

And there is nothing left remarkable 10
Beneath the visiting Moon.

Char. O, quietness, lady!

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

Iras. Madam,

Char. O madam, madam, madam,

Iras. Royal Egypt, Empress,

Char. Peace, peace, Iras!

[Faints.

Cleo. No more but e'en a woman,11 and commanded

By such poor passion as the maid that milks

And does the meanest chares.12 It were for me

save her life, if she could possible, without reproach and dishonour; and chiefly that she should trust Proculeius above any man else about Cæsar. And as for himself, that she should not lament nor sorrow for the miserable change of his fortune; but rather that she should think him the more fortunate for the former triumphs and honours he had received; considering that, while he lived, he was the noblest and greatest prince of the world; and that now he was overcome, not cowardly, but valiantly, a Roman by another Roman.

[ocr errors]

PLUTARCH.

8 Woo't was a colloquial variation of wouldst thou or wilt thou.

9 "The soldier's pole" is the standard or banner; that which the soldiers follow and rally to.

10 Remarkable carried a much stronger sense in the Poet's time than it does now; such as extraordinary, glorious, wonderful.

11 Here, as often, but is equivalent simply to than.

12 Chares is an old word for various odds and ends of work, such as commonly fall to boys and servant girls. Now spelt and pronounced chores.

To throw my sceptre at th' injurious gods; 13
To tell them that this world did equal theirs
Till they had stol'n 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,

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,14 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.15

[Exeunt; those above bearing off ANTONY's body.

18" It were right for me to throw," or "I might justly throw, my sceptre at the unjust gods." Cleopatra has been used to think herself and Antony so nearly equal with the gods, that the latter have no right to shut down so sternly upon them.

[ocr errors]

14 This is evidently addressed to the women; and Dyce has shown, beyond question, that such modes of address were not uncommon. So, in a later scene, we have " Sirrah, Iras, go."

15 Briefest for quickest or speediest. See page 112, note 3.

SCENE I.

ACT V.

CÆSAR'S Camp before Alexandria.

Enter CESAR, AGRIPPA, DOLABELLA, MECENAS, GALLUS, PRO

CULEIUS, and others.

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

Being so frustrate, tell him he mocks us by
The pauses that he makes.

Dol.

Cæsar, I shall.

Enter DERCETAS, with the Sword of ANTONY.

[Exit.

Cas. Wherefore is that? and what art thou that darest Appear thus to us?1

Der.

I am call'd Dercetas ;

Mark Antony I served, who best was worthy

Best 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.

Cæs. The breaking of so great a thing should make

A greater crack: the round-uproared world 2

Should have shook lions into civil streets,

And citizens to their dens. The death of Antony

1 That is, with a drawn and bloody sword in thy hand.

2 The Poet elsewhere uses to uproar as a transitive verb, and with a sense much stronger than it now bears. So in Macbeth, iv. 3: "Had I power, should pour the sweet milk of concord into Hell, uproar the universal peace," &c.

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 self3 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 tidings.
To wash the eyes of kings: and strange it is
That nature must compel us to lament

Our most persisted deeds.

Mec.

Waged equal with him.

Agr.

His taints and honours

A rarer spirit never

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.

I've follow'd thee to this.

O Antony !

But we do lance

Diseases in our bodies: I must perforce
Have shown to thee such a declining day,
Or look'd on thine; we could not stall together
In the whole world: but yet let me lament,

8 Shakespeare often uses self as equivalent to self-same.

4 "May the gods rebuke me if it be not tidings to make kings weep." But again in its exceptive sense. We have tidings used as a noun singular in the preceding Act, scene 14: "This tidings."

5 Waged here must mean to be opposed as equal stakes in a wager; unless we suppose that weighed is meant.

« AnteriorContinuar »