To penetrative shame: whilft the wheel'd feat
Of fortunate Cefar, 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 fword, which thou haft worn Most 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.

Eros. My fword is drawn.

Ant. Then let it do at once

The thing why thou haft drawn it.

Eros. My dear Master,

[Turning from bim.

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

Ant. 'Tis faid, mañ,

-and farewel.

Eros. Farewel, great Chief. Shall I ftrike now?

Thou teachest me, oh, valiant Eros, what

I fhould, and thou could't not; my Queen and Eros
Have by their brave inftruction 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 fword. I learnt of thee. How, not yet dead? not dead ?The Guard-ho!-oh, dispatch me.

Enter Dercetas, and Guard.

1 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 faln.

1 Guard. And time is at his period! All. 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. 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.

Dio. 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. She had a prophe fying fear

Of what hath come to pafs; for when she saw,
(Which never shall be found) you did fufpect
She had difpos'd with Cafar; and that your rage
Would not be purg'd, fhe fent word fhe was dead.
But fearing fince 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 pr'ythee.

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 laft fervice that I shall command you.

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

All. Moft heavy day!

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

To grace it with your forrows. 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 Antony.

SCENE changes to a magnificent Monument.

Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, and Iras, above.

Cleo. Char. Be comforted, dear Madam.

Cleo. No, I will not:

All strange and terrible events are welcome,
But comforts we defpife; our fize of forrow,
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'ft in!-darkling ftand
The varying fhore o'th' world! O Antony !

H 5

Help,

Help, Charmian; help, Iras, 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 fhould be, that none but Antony
Should conquer Antony; but, woe, 'tis fo!
Ant. I am dying, Egypt, dying; only yet
(31) I here importune death a while, until
Of many thousand kiffes the poor last
I lay upon thy lips.-

Cleo. I dare not,

-Come down.

(Dear, dear my Lord, your pardon, that I dare not;) Left I be taken; not th'imperious fhew

Of the full-fortun'd Cafar ever shall

Be brooch'd with me; if knife, drugs, ferpents, have
Edge, fting, or operation, I am fafe:

Your Wife Octavia, with her modest eyes
And still conclufion; fhall acquire no honour,

(31) I here importune Death a while, until

Of many thousand Kiffes the poor laft
I lay upon thy Lips.

Cleo. I dare not, dear,

Dear my Lord, pardon; Idare not,

Left I be taken.] What curious hobbling Verfification do we encounter here in the laft Line but one? Besides, how inconfiftently is the Lady made to reply? Antony says, he only holds Life, till he can give her one laft Kifs: and She cries, She dares not: What dares the not do? Kifs Antony? But how fhould 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 Plutarch 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 caft out certain Chains and Ropes, &".- -So that Antony might very reasonably defire her to come down; and She as reasonably excufe her felf, for fear of being inInated by Cafar.

Demuring

Demuring upon me.

But come, come, Antony,

Help me, my women; we muft draw thee up-
Affift, good friends.

Ant. Oh, quick, or I am gone.

Cleo. Here's fport, indeed! how heavy weighs my Lord!

Our ftrength is all gone into heaviness,

That makes the weight. Had I great Juno's power,
The ftrong-wing'd Mercury fhould fetch thee up,
And fet thee by Jove's fide. Yet come a little,-
Withers were ever fools. Oh come, come, come-

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

All. O heavy fight!

Ant. I am dying, Eygpt, dying.

Give me fome wine, and let me fpeak a little.
Cleo. No, let me fpeak, and let me rail fo high,
That the falfe hufwife Fortune break her wheel,
Provok'd by my offence.

Ant. One word, fweet Queen..

Of Cæfar feek your honour, with your fafety-oh-
Cleo. They do not go together.

Ant. Gentle, hear me;

None about Cæfar truft, but Proculeius.

Cleo. My refolution, and my hands, I'll truft;
None about Cafar.

Ant. The miferable change, now at my end,
Lament, nor forrow at: but please your thoughts
In feeding them with thofe my former fortunes,
Wherein I liv'd the greatest prince o'th' world,
The nobleft once; and do not now bafely 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. Nobleft of men! -woo't die?
Haft thou no care of me? shall I abide
In this dull world, which in thy abfence is

[Antony dies.

No