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To penetrative shame: whilst the wheeld seat
Of fortunate Cæfar, drawn before him, branded
His baseness that ensued ?

Eros. I would not see't.

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

Eros. Oh, Sir, pardon me.
Ant. When I did make thee free, swor'st thou not

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.

[Turning from bin. Eros. My sword is drawn.

Ant. Then let it do at once
The thing why thou hast drawn it.

Eros. My dear Mafter,
My Captain, and my Emp'ror ! Let me say,
Before I strike this bloody ftroke, farewel.

Ant. 'Tis faid, man, and farewel.
Eros. Farewel, great Chief. Shall I ftrike now?
Ant. Now, Eros.
Eros. Why, there then

[Eros kills himself Thus do I escape the sorrow Qf Antony's death.

[Dyes. Ant. Thrice-nobler than my

self! Thou teachelt me, oh, valiant Eros, what I should, and thou could't not; my Queen and Eros 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 Mafter dies thy Scholar; to do thus

[Falling on his sword. I learnt of thee. How, not yet dead ? not dead ?The Guardho!-oh, dispatch me, H 4

Enter Enter Dercetas, and Guard. i Guard. What's the noise ?

Ant. I've done my work ill, friends : O, make an end of what I have begun. 2 Guard. The star is faln. i Guard. And time is at his period ! All. Alas, and woe! Ant. Let him, that loves me, Átrike me dead. I Guard. Not I. 2 Guard. Nor I. 3 Guard. Nor any one,

[Exeunt. Der. Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers fly. This sword but shewn to Cæfar, with this tidings, Shall enter me with him.

Enter Diomedes. Dio. Where's Antony ? Der. There, Diomed, there. Dio. Lives he? wilt thou not answer, man? Ant. Art thou there, Diomed? draw thy sword, and

give me
Sufficing strokes for death.

Dio. Moft absolute Lord,
My Miftress Cleopatra fent me to thee.

Ant. When did she send thee?
Dio. Now, my Lord."
Ant. Where is she ?
Dio. Locke in her Monument. She had a prophe-

fying fear
Of what hath come to pass; for when she saw,
(Which never shall be found) you did suspect
She had dispos’d with Cæfar; and that your rage
Would not be purg'd, she sent 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



Dio. What, ho! the Emperor's Guard. The Guard,

what, hoa! Come, your Lord calls.

Enter the Guard. Ant. Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra bides, 'Tis the last service that I shall command you.

Guard. Woe are we, Sir! you may not live to wear All your true follow'rs out. Áll. Moft 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

thanks for all.

[Exeunt, bearing Antony SCENE changes to a magnificent Monumento

Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, and Iras, above.
H Charmian, I will


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. As that which makes it.

Enter Diomedes. How now? is he dead?

Dio. His death's upon him, but not dead.
Look out o'th' other fide your Monument,
His Guard, have brought him thither.

Enter Antony, borne by the Guard.
Cleo. O thou Sun,
Burn the great Sphere thou mov'rt in!-darkling stand
The varying shore o'th'world! O Antony !



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Help, Charmian'; help, Ira's, help; help, friends,
Below ; let's draw him hither.

Ant. Peace.
Not Cæfar's valour hath o'er-thrown Antony,
But Antony hath triumph'd on himself.

Cleo. So it should be, that none but Antony
Should conquer Antony ; but, woe, 'tis fo!

Ant. I am dying, Ægypt, dying ; only yet
(31) I here importune death a while, until
Of many thousand kisses the poor last
I lay upon thy lips. Come down

Cleo. I dare not,
(Dear, dear my Lord, your pardon, that I dare not ;)
Left I be taken ; not th'imperious shew
Of the full-fortun'd Cæfar ever shall
Be brooch'd with me; if knife, drugs, ferpents, have
Edge, fting, or operation, I am fafe :
Your Wife Ottavia, with her modeft eyes
And still conclufion, shall acquire no honour,

(31) 1 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,

Left I be taken.) What curious hobbling Versification do we encounter here in the last Line but one ? Besides, how inconsistently is the Lady made to reply? Antony says, he only holds Life, till he can give her one last Kiss: and She cries, She dares not: What dares le not do! Kiss Antony? But how should She? She was above lock'd in her Monument; and He below, on the Outside of it. With a very flight Addition, I think, I can cure the whole; and have a Warrant from Plutarch for it into the Bargain. Now Plutarchf fays that “ Antony was carry'd in his Men's “ Arms into the Entry of the Monument : Notwithstanding, Cleo

patra would not open the Gates, but came to the high Windows, " and cast out certain Chains and Ropes, di". So that Antony might very reasonably desire her to come down; and She as reasonably excuse her self, for fear of being inInared by Cafar,


Dem uring upon me. But come, come, Antony,
Help me, my women ; we must draw thee up
Affilt, good friends.

Ant. "Oh, quick, or I am gone.
Cleo. Here's sport, indeed !-- how heavy weighs my

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 fide. Yet come a little,
Wishers were ever foo's. Oh come, come, come

[They draw Antony up to Cleopatra. And welcome, welcome. Die, where thou hast liy'd; e Quicken with kisling; had my lips that power, Thus would I wear them out.

All. O heavy fight!

Ant. I am dying, Aygpt, 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 huswife Fortune break her wheel,
Provok'd by my offence.

Ant. One word, sweet Queen.
Of Cæfar seek your honour, with your safety oh-

Cleo. They do not go together.

Ant. Gentle, hear me;
None about Cæfar trust, but Proculeius.

Cleo. My resolution, and my hands, I'll trust;
None about Cæfar,

Ant. The miserable change, now at my end,
Lament, nor forrow at: but please your thoughts
In feeding them with those my former fortunes,
Wherein I liv'd the greatest prince o’th' world,
The noblest once; and do not now 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-

[Antony dies.
Cleo. Noblest of men ! -woo't die?
Haft thou no care of me? shall I abide
In this dull world, which in thy absence is


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