CLEOPATRA O Charmian, I will never go...

CLEOPATRA

O Charmian, I will never go from hence.

CHARMIAN

Be comforted, dear madam.

CLEOPATRA

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, below, DIOMEDES]

How now! is he dead?

DIOMEDES

His death's upon him, but not dead.

Look out o' the other side your monument;

His guard have brought him thither.

[Enter, below, MARK ANTONY, borne by the Guard]

CLEOPATRA

O sun,

Burn the great sphere thou movest in!

darkling stand

The varying shore o' the world. O Antony,

Antony, Antony! Help, Charmian, help, Iras, help;

Help, friends below; let's draw him hither.

MARK ANTONY

Peace!

Not Caesar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony,

But Antony's hath triumph'd on itself.

CLEOPATRA

So it should be, that none but Antony

Should conquer Antony; but woe 'tis so!

MARK ANTONY

I am dying, Egypt, dying; only

I here importune death awhile, until

Of many thousand kisses the poor last

I lay up thy lips.

CLEOPATRA

I dare not, dear,--

Dear my lord, pardon,--I dare not,

Lest I be taken: not the imperious show

Of the full-fortuned Caesar ever shall

Be brooch'd with me; if knife, drugs,

serpents, have

Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe:

Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes

And still conclusion, shall acquire no honour

Demuring upon me. But come, come, Antony,--

Help me, my women,--we must draw thee up:

Assist, good friends.

MARK ANTONY

O, quick, or I am gone.

CLEOPATRA

Here's sport indeed! How heavy weighs my lord!

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,--

Wishes were ever fools,--O, come, come, come;

[They heave MARK ANTONY aloft to CLEOPATRA]

And welcome, welcome! die where thou hast lived:

Quicken with kissing: had my lips that power,

Thus would I wear them out.

ALL

A heavy sight!

MARK ANTONY

I am dying, Egypt, dying:

Give me some wine, and let me speak a little.

CLEOPATRA

No, let me speak; and let me rail so high,

That the false housewife Fortune break her wheel,

Provoked by my offence.

MARK ANTONY

One word, sweet queen:

Of Caesar seek your honour, with your safety. O!

CLEOPATRA

They do not go together.

MARK ANTONY

Gentle, hear me:

None about Caesar trust but Proculeius.

CLEOPATRA

My resolution and my hands I'll trust;

None about Caesar.

MARK ANTONY

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 lived, the greatest prince o' the world,

The noblest; and do now not basely die,

Not 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.

CLEOPATRA

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 sty? O, see, my women,

[MARK ANTONY dies]

The crown o' the earth doth melt. My lord!

O, wither'd is the garland of the war,

The soldier's pole is fall'n: young boys and girls

Are level now with men; the odds is gone,

And there is nothing left remarkable

Beneath the visiting moon.

[Faints]

CHARMIAN

O, quietness, lady!

IRAS

She is dead too, our sovereign.

CHARMIAN

Lady!

IRAS

Madam!

CHARMIAN

O madam, madam, madam!

IRAS

Royal Egypt, Empress!

CHARMIAN

Peace, peace, Iras!

CLEOPATRA

No more, but e'en a woman, and commanded

By such poor passion as the maid that milks

And does the meanest chares. It were for me

To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods;

To tell them that this world did equal theirs

Till they had stol'n our jewel. All's but naught;

Patience is scottish, 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, Charmian!

My noble girls! Ah, women, women, look,

Our lamp is spent, it's out! Good sirs, take heart:

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 MARK ANTONY's body]

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