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Have, by their brave instruction, got upon me
A nobleness in record : But I will be
A bridegroom in my death, and run into 't
As to a lover's bed. Come then; and, Eros,
Thy master dies thy scholar; to do thus

[Falling on his sword. I learn'd of thee. How ! not dead ? not dead ?The guard—how?-0, despatch me.

Enter DERCETAS and Guard. 1 Guard.

What 's the noise ? Ant. I have done my work ill, friends : 0, make an

end Of what I have begun. 2 Guard.

The star is fallen. 1 Guard. And time is at his period. AU.

Alas, and woe! Ant. Let him that loves me strike me dead. 1 Guard.

Not I. 2 Guard. Nor I. 3 Guard. Nor any one.

[Exeunt Guard. Der. Thy death and fortunes hid thy followers fly. This sword but shown to Cæsar, with this tidings, Shall enter me with him.

Dio. Where's Antony ?

There, Diomed, there.

Lives he? Wilt thou not answer, man?

[Exit Der. 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.

Ant. When did she send thee?

Now, my lord.


Where is she? Dio. Lock'd in her monument. She had a prophe

sying fear Of what hath come to pass : for when she saw (Which never shall be found,) you did suspect She had dispos’d with“ Cæsar, and that your rage Would not be purg'd, she sent you word she was dead; But, fearing since how it might work, hath sent Me to proclaim the truth; and I am come, I dread, too late. Ant. Too late, good Diomed :-Call my guard, I

prithee. 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; "T is the last service that I shall command you. 1 Guard. Woe, 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 Which comes to punish us, and we punish it Seeming to bear it lightly. Take me up: I have led you oft; carry me now, good friends, And have my thanks for all. [Exeunt, bearing Ant.

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.

A Dispos'd with-made terms with.


No, I will not.
All strange and terrible events are welcome,
But comforts we despise; our size of sorrow,
Proportion'd to our canse, must be as great


As that which makes it.-How now? is he dead?

Dio. His death 's upon him, but not dead. Look out o' the other side your monument, His guard have brought him thither.

Enter Antony, borne by the Guarı. Cleo. O sun, Burn the great sphere thou mov’st in !-darkling

The varying shore o' the world!--O Antony !
Antony, Antony !-Help, Charmian; help, Iras, help;
Help, friends below; let 's draw him hither.

Peace :
Not Cæsar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony,
But Antony's hath triumph'd on itself.

Cleo. So it should be, that none but Antony
Should conquer Antony; but woe 't is so !

Ant. I am dying, Egypt, dying; only
I here importune death a while, until
Of many thousand kisses the poor last
I lay upon thy lips.-

I dare not, dear,
(Dear iny lord, pardon,) I dare not,
Lest I be taken : not the imperious show
Of the full-fortun'd Cæsar ever shall
Be brooch'd b with me; if knife, drugs, serpents, have
Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe:

& Cleopatra dares not come down out of the monument, to bestow the poor laast kiss.

b Brooch'd-adorned, as with a brooch.

Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes
And still conclusion, shall acquire no honour
Demuring upon me. But come, come, Antony,-
Help me, my women,---we must draw thee up ;-
Assist, good friends.

0, 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,
The strong-wing'd Mercury should fetch thee up,
And set thee by Jove's side. Yet come a little,
Wishers were ever fools ;-0, come, come, come;

[They draw ANT. up.
And welcome, welcome ! die where thou hast liv'd :
Quicken with kissing; had my lips that power,
Thus would I wear them out.

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.

One word, sweet queen:
Of Cæsar seek your honour, with your safety.-0!

Cleo. They do not go together.

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
In this dull world, which in thy absence is
No better than a sty?-0, see, my women,
The crown o' the earth doth melt:--My lord !-
0, wither'd is the garland of the war,
The soldier's pole is fallen; young boys and girls
Are level now with men : the odds is gone,
And there is nothing left remarkable
Beneath the visiting moon.

[She faints. Char.

O, quietness, lady!
Iras. She is dead too, our sovereign.


Madam,Char. O madam, madam, madam! Iras.

Royal Egypt ! Empress !

Char. Peace, peace, Iras.

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 stolen our jewel. All's 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,

a Chares. A chare, or char, is a single act, or piece of work, --a turn, or bout of work, from the Anglo-Saxon cyran, to turn. Hence, a charwoman.

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