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!-0 Antony! 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, 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," All. A heavy sight! 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. Revive. + Sedate determination. Cleo. They do not go together. Ant. Gentle, hear me: None about Cæsar trust, but Proculeius. Ant. The miserable change now at my end, 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. 1ras. [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 meauest chares.-It were for me To throw my scepter at the injurious gods; To tell them, that this world did equal theirs, Till they had stolen our jewel. All's but naught; 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, ble, Let's do it after the high Roman fashion, And make death proud to take us. Come, away: Ah, women, women! come; we have no friend [Exeunt; those above bearing off Antony's ACT V. SCENE I. Cæsar's camp before Alexandria. Enter Cæsar, Agrippa, Dolabella, Mæcenas, Gallus, Proculeius, and others. Cas. Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield; Being so frustrate*, tell him, he mocks us by The pauses that he makest. Dol. Cæsar, I shall. [Exit Dolabella. * Frustrated. + He trifles with us. Enter Dercetas, with the sword of Antony. Cas. 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, 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 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, 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 a tidings To wash the eyes of kings. Agr. Look you sad, friends? And strange it is, His taints and honours Waged equal with him. Agr. A rarer spirit never That nature must compel us to lament Mac. |