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Clown. Yes, forsooth, I wish you joy o'th' worm.

[Exit. Cleo. Give me my Robe, put on my Crown; I have Immortal Longings in me.

Now no more
The juice of Agypt's grape fhall moist this lip.
Yare, yare, good Iras ; quick-methinks, I hear
Antony call, I see him rowse himself
To praise my poble act. I hear him mock
The luck of Cæfar, which the Gods give men
T'excuse their after-wrath. Husband, I come;
Now to that name my courage prove my title!
I am fire, and air ; my other elements
I give to baser life. So have you done!
Come then, and take the laft warmth of my lips.
Farewel, kind Charmian; Iras, long farewel.

[ Applying the app. Have I the aspick in my lips? doft fall?

To Iras. If thou and nature can so gently part, The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, Which hurts, and is desir'd. Doft chou lye still? If thus thou vanishest, thou tell’ft the world, It is not worth leave-taking.

[Iras dies. Char. Dissolve, thick Cloud, and rain, that I may fay, The Gods themselves do weep.

Cleo. This proves me base If the first meet the curled Antony, He'll make demand of her, and spend that kiss, Which is my heav'n to have. Come, mortal wretch, With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate Of life at once untie: poor venomous fool, Be angry, and dispatch. Oh, could'it thou speak, That I might hear thee call great Cæfar afs, Unpolicied!

Char. Oh eastern star!

Cleo. Peace, peace !
Dost thou not see my baby at my breast,
That sucks the nurse asleep ?

Char. O break! O break!
Cleo. Aš sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle,

[To the serpent. O Antony! Nay, I will take thee too. (40)

[ Applying another Alp to ber Arm. What should I stay

[Dies. Char. In this wild world? so, fare thee well : Now, boast thee, Death, in thy pofleffion lies A lass unparallel'd-Downy windows, clofe ; And golden Phæbus never be beheld Of eyes again fo royal ! your Crown's awry ; I'll mend it, and then play

Enter the Guard, rushing in. i Guard. Where's the Queen ? Char. Speak softly, wake her not. i Guard. Cæfar hath sent

[Charmian applies the afp. Char. Too flow a messenger. Oh, come apace, dispatch, I partly feel thee. i Guard. Approach, ho! all's not well. Cæsar's be

guild. 2 Guard. There's Dolabella sent from Cæfar; call him. i Guard. What work is here, Charmian? is this

well done?
Char. It is well done, and fitting for a Princess
Descended of so many royal Kings.
Ah, soldiers !

[Charmian dies. Enter Dolabella. Dol. How goes it here? 2 Guard. All dead!

Dol. Cafar, thy thoughts
Touch their effects in this ; thy self art coming

(40) O Antony! nay I will take thee too.] As there has been hitherto no Break in this Verse, nor any marginal Direction, Thee necessarily must seem to refer to Antony. But 'tis certain, Cleopatra is here design’d to apply one Aspick to her Arm, as fhe had before clap d One to her Breaft. And the last Speech of Dolabella in the Play is a Confirmation of this.

Here, on her breast,
There is a Vent of Blood, and something blown ;
The like is on her Arm.

Т.

To see perform’d the dreaded act, which thou
So fought'st to hinder.

Enter Cæfar and Attendants.
All. Make way there, make way

for Cesar.
Dol. Oh, Sir, you are too sure an augurer ;
That, you did fear, is done.

Caf. Bravest at last:
She levell’d at our purpose, and, being royal,
Took her own way. The manner of their deaths id
I do not see them bleed.

Dol. Who was last with them?

i Guard. A simple country man, that brought her figs : This was his basket.

Cæs. Poison'd then!

1 Gent. Oh Cafar!
This Charmian liv'd but now, she stood and spake :
I found her trimming up the diadem
On her dead mistress ; tremblingly she stood,
And on the sudden dropt.

Caf. Oh noble weakness !
If they had swallow'd poison, 'twould appear
By external swelling; but she looks like sleep ;
As she would catch another Antony
In her strong toil of grace.

Dol. Here, on her breast,
There is a vent of blood, and something blown :
The like is on her arm.

i Guard. This is an aspick's trail ;
And these fig-leaves have slime upon them, such
As th' aspick leaves upon the caves of Nile.

Cæs. Most probable,
That To the dy'd; for her physician tells me,
She has pursu'd conclufions infinite
Of easie ways to die. Take up her bed,
And bear her women from the monument :
She fhall be buried by her Antony.
No

grave upon the earth shall clip in it
A pair so famous. High events as these
Strike those that make them; and their story is

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No less in pity, than his glory, which
Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall,
In solemn New, attend this funeral ;
And then to Rome : come, Dolabella, see
High order in this great folemnity, (Exeunt omnes.

C Y MBE

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