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Enter Diomedes.

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 Guard.

O thou sun,

Cleo. 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.

Peace:

Ant.
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 wo 'tis 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.—

Cleo.
I dare not, dear
(Dear my lord, pardon,) I dare not,

Lest I be taken: not the imperious show

Of the full-fortun'd Cæsar ever shall

Be brooch'd2 with me; if knife, drugs, serpents,

have

Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe:

Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes,

And still conclusion,3 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!

(1) Without light.

(2) Ornamented.

Sedate determination.

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

All.

power,

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 house-wife Fortune break her wheel, Provok'd 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 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. [Dies.

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 stye?-O, see, my women,

The crown o'the earth doth melt :-My lord!O, wither'd is the garland of the war,

The soldier's pole is fallen; young boys, and girls, (1) Revive.

Are level now with men: the odds is gone,

And there is nothing left remarkable
Beneath the visiting moon.

Char.

[She faints.

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

Char.

Iras.

Lady,

Madam,-

Royal Egypt!

Char. O madam, madam, madam!

Iras.

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.1-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,
Our lamp is spent, it's out:-Good sirs, take heart:-
[To the guard below.
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.

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

(1) Task-work.

ACT V.

SCENE I-Caesar's camp before Alexandria. Enter Cæsar, Agrippa, Dolabella, Mæcenas, Gallus, Proculeius, and others.

Cæs. Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield; Being so frustrate,' tell him, he mocks us by The pauses that he makes.2

Dol.

Cæsar, I shall.

[Exit Dolabella.

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,
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.

Cœs.

What is't thou say'st?

Der. I say, O Cæsar, Antouy is dead.

Caes. The breaking of so great a thing should make A greater crack: The round world should have

shock

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,

(1) Frustrated.

(2) He trifles with us.

Splitted the heart.-This is his sword,

I robb'd his wound of it; behold it stain'd
With his most noble blood.

Cœs.

Look you sad, friends?

The gods rebuke me, but it is a tidings

To wash the eyes of kings.

Agr.

And strange it is,

His taints and honours

That nature must compel us to lament
Our most persisted deeds.

Mac.

A rarer spirit never

Waged equal with him.
Agr.
Did steer humanity: but you, gods, will give us
Some faults to make us men. Cæsar is touch'd.
Mac. When such a spacious mirror's set before
him,

He needs must see himself.

Cæs.

O Antony!

I have follow'd thee to this ;-But we do lance
Diseases in our bodies: I must perforce
Have shown to thee such a declining day,
Or look on thine; we could not stali together
In the whole world: But yet let me lament,
With tears as sovereign as the blood of hearts,
That thou, my brother, my competitor
In top of all design, my mate in empire,
Friend and companion in the front of war,
The arm of mine own body, and the heart

Where mine his thoughts did kindle,-that our

stars,

Unreconciliable, should divide

Our equalness to this.-Hear me, good friends,--But I will tell you at some meeter season;

Enter a Messenger.

The business of this man looks out of him,

We'll hear him what he says.-Whence are you? Mess. A poor Egyptian yet. The queen my

mistress,

(1) Its.

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