Ant. Sometime we see a cloud that's dragonish ;
A vapour, fometime, like a bear, or lion,
A tower'd citadel. a pendant rock,

A forked mountain, or blue promontory
With trees upon't, that nod unto the world,
And mock our eyes with air. Thou'ft feen these
figns,

They are black Vefper's pageants.

Eros. Ay, my Lord.

Ant. That, which is now a horfe, even with a thought

The Rack diflimns, and makes it indiftinct
As water is in water.

Eros. It do's, my Lord.

Ant. My good knave, Eros, now thy Captain is Even fuch a body; here I'm Antony,

Yet cannot hold this vifible fhape, my knave.
I made these wars for Egypt; and the Queen,
Whole heart, I thought, I had, (for fhe had mine;
Which, whilft it was mine, had annext unto't
A million more, now loft!) fhe, Eros, has

Packt cards with Cæfar, and falfe play'd my Glory
Unto an enemy's triumph-

Nay, weep not, gentle Eros, there is left us
Ourselves to end ourselves.

Enter Mardian.

Oh, thy vile Lady!

Sh' has robb'd me of my fword.

Mar. No, Antony!

My Miftrefs lov'd thee, and her fortunes mingled
With thine entirely.

Ant. Hence, faucy Eunuch, peace, the hath betray'd me,

And fhe fhall die the death.

Mar. Death of one person can be paid but once, And that she has difcharg'd. What thou would'st do, Is done unto thy hand; the laft the fpake

Was,

Was, Antony! most noble Antony!

Then in the midft a tearing Groan did break
The name of Antony; it was divided

Between her heart and lips; fhe render'd life,
Thy name fo buried in her.

Ant. Dead then!

Mar. Dead.

Ant. Unarm me, Eros, the long day's task is done, And we must fleep; that thou depart'ft hence safe, Does pay thy labour richly; go.

Off, pluck off;

[Exit Mardian.

The feven-fold fhield of Ajax cannot keep

The battery from my heart. O cleave, my fides,
Heart, once be fironger than thy continent,
Crack thy frail cafe! apace, Eros, ápace.
No more a Soldier-bruifed pieces, go;

[Unarming himself. You have been nobly borne ;—from me a while— [Exit Eros.

I will o'ertake thee, Cleopatra, and
Weep for my pardon. So't muft be, for now
All length is torture; fince the torch is out,
Lie down and ftray no further. Now all labour
Mars what it does, yea, very force entangles
Itfelf with ftrength; feal then, and all is done.
Eros!-I come, my Queen-Eros !--ftay for me,
Where fouls do couch on flowers, we'll hand in
hand,

And with our fprightly port make the Ghofts gaze; * Dido and her Sichaus fhall want troops,

And all the haunt be ours.-Come, Eros, Eros!
Enter Eros.

Eros. What would my Lord?

*Dido and her AEneas fhail want troops,] But Dido's Fondnefs did not reach to the other World: She then defpifed AEneas, and return'd to her old Affection for Sichaus. I fhould think, therefore, that the Poet wrote,

Dido and her Sichæus.

Warb.

Ant

Ant. Since Cleopatra died,

I've liv'd in fuch difhonour, that the Gods
Deteft my basenefs. I, that with my fword
Quarter'd the world, and o'er green Neptune's back,
With fhips, made cities; condemn myself, to lack
The courage of a woman; lefs noble minded
Than fhe, which, by her death, our Cæfar tells,
I'm conqueror of myfelf. Thou art fworn, Eros,
That when the exigent fhould come, which now
Is come indeed, when I fhould fee behind me
Th' inevitable profecution of disgrace

And horror, that on my command thou then
Would't kill me. Do it, for the time is come;
Thou strik'ft not me, 'tis Cæfar thou defeat'st.
Put colour in thy cheek.

Eros The Gods with-hold me!

Shall I do That, which all the Parthian darts,
Though enemy, loft aim, and could not?

Ant. Eros,

Would't thou be window'd in great Rome, and fee
Thy mafter thus with pleacht arms, bending down
His corrigible neck, his face fubdu'd

To penetrative shame: whilft the wheel'd feat
Of fortunate Cæfar, drawn before him, branded
His bafenefs that enfued?

Eros. I would not fee't.

Ant. Come then; for with a wound I must be cur'd. Draw that thy honeft sword, which thou haft worn Moft useful for thy Country.

Eros. Oh, Sir, pardon me.

Ant. When I did make thee free, fwor'ft thou not then

To do this when I bade thee? do it at once,

Or thy precedent services are all

But accidents unpurpos'd. Draw, and come.

Eros. Turn from me then that noble countenance, Wherein the worship of the whole world lies.

Ant. Lo thee.

VOL. VIII.

N

[Turning from him.

Eros.

Eros. My fword is drawn.

Ant. Then let it do at once

The thing why thou haft drawn it.

Eros. My dear Master,

My Captain, and my Emp'ror! Let me fay,
Before I ftrike this bloody ftroke, farewel.

Ant. 'Tis faid, man,

Eros. Farewel, great Chief.

Ant. Now, Eros.

Eros. Why, there then

-and farewel.

Shall I strike now ?

[Eros kills himself.

[Dies.

Thus do I efcape the forrow

Of Antony's death.

Ant. Thrice nobler than myself!

Thou teacheft me, oh, valiant Eros, what

I fhould, and thou could'ft not; my Queen and Eros
Have by their brave inftruction got upon me

A Noblenefs 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 Mafter dies thy Scholar; to do thus

[Falling on his fword. I learnt of thee. How, not yet dead? not dead?— The guard-ho!-oh, difpatch me.

1 Guard.

SCENE XI.

Enter Dercetas, and Guard.

WHAT's the noife?

Ant. I've done my work ill, friends

O, make an end of what I have begun.

2 Guard. The ftar is fall'n.

1 Guard. And time is at his period!

All. Alas, and woe!

Ant. Let him, that loves me, ftrike me dead.

Der. Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers fly. This fword but fhewn to Cæfar, with this tidings, Shall enter me with him!

Enter Diomedes.

Die. Where's Antony?

Der. There, Diomed, there.

Dio. Lives he? wilt thou not answer, man? Ant. Art thou there, Diomed? draw thy fword, and give me Sufficing ftrokes for death.

Dio. Moft abfolute lord,

My Miftrefs Cleopatra fent me to thee.

Ant. When did fhe fend thee?

Dio. Now, my Lord.

Ant. Where is the ?

Dio. Lockt in her Monument.

phefying fear

She had a pro

Of what hath come to pafs; for when she saw
(Which never fhall be found) you did suspect
She had difpos'd with Cæfar; and that your rage
Would not be purg'd, fhe fent word fhe was dead.
But fearing fince how it might work, hath fent
Me to proclame the truth, and I am come,

I dread, too late.

[pr'ythee. Ant. Too late, good Diomed; call my Guard, I Dio. What, ho! the Emperor's Guard.

Guard, What, hoa!

Come, your Lord calls.

Enter the Guard.

The

Ant. Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra 'bides, 'Tis the laft fervice that I fhall command you. Guard. Woe are we, Sir! you may not live to

Ant. Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp

Fate