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Ant. ”T is said, man ;-and farewell.


The star is fall’n ! Eros. Farewell, great chief. Shall I strike 1 GUARD. And time is at his period.


Alas, and woe! ANT.

Now, Eros. Ant. Let him that loves me strike me dead. Eros. Why, there then :-[Falls on his sword. 1 GUARD.

Not I. thus I do escape the sorrow

2 GUARD. Nor I. Of Antony's death. [Dies. 3 GUARD. Nor any one.

[Exeunt Guard. ANT.

Thrice nobler than myself ! DER. Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers Thou teachest me, 0, valiant Eros, what [Eros

fly. I should, and thou couldst not. My queen and This sword but shown to Cæsar, with this tidings, Have, by their brave instruction, got upon me Shall enter me with him. 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,

Enter DIOMEDES. Thy master dies thy scholar ; to do thus

[Falling on his sword. Dro. Where's Antony ? I learn'd of thee.-How! not dead ? not dead ?- DER.

There, Diomed, there. The guard-ho!-O, despatch me.


Lives he?

Wilt thou not answer, man? [Exit DERCETAS. Enter DERCETAS and Guard.

Ant. Art thou there, Diomed?

Draw thy

sword, and give me 1 GUARD.

What's the noise ? | Sufficing strokes for death. Ant. I have done my work ill, friends : 0, Dio.

Most absolute lord, make an end

My mistress Cleopatra sent me to thee. Of what I have begun!

Ant. When did she send thee?


0, sun,

Now, my lord.

Look out o' the other side your monument,

Where is she ? His guard have brought him thither. Dio. Lock'd in her monument. She had a

prophesying fear Of what hath come to pass : for when she saw Enter, below, ANTONY, borne by the Guard. (Which never shall be found) you did suspect She had dispos’d" with Cæsar, and that your rage

CLEO. Would not be purg'd, she sent you word she was

Burn the great sphere thou mov'st in !—darkling dead;

stand But, fearing since how it might work, hath sent The varying shore o' the world !—0, Antony ! Me to proclaim the truth; and I am come,

Antony, Antony !-Help, Charmian; help, Iras, I dread, too late.

help ;Ant. Too late, good Diomed.-Call my guard,

Help, friends below ;-let's draw him hither. I pr'ythee.


Peace! Dio. What, ho! the emperor's guard! The

Not Cæsar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony, guard, what, ho !

But Antony's hath triumph'd on itself. Come, your lord calls !

Cleo. So it should be, that none but Antony Should conquer Antony; but woe 't is so !

Ant. I am dying, Egypt,—dying; only Enter some of the Guard.

I here importune death a while, until Ant. Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra Of many thousand kisses the


last bides;

I lay upon thy lips.'Tis the last service that I shall command you.


I dare not, dear, 1 GUARD. Woe, woe are we, sir, you may not

(Dear my lord, pardon.) I dare not, live to wear

Lest I be taken : not the imperious show
All your true followers out.

Of the full-fortun'd Cæsar eve shall
Most heavy day!

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

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

Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe :
To grace it with your sorrows: bid that welcome Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes
Which comes to punish us, and we punish it

And still conclusion, shall acquire no honour Seeming to bear it lightly. Take me up: Demuring upon me.—But come, come, Antony,– I have led you oft ; carry me now, good friends, Help me, my women,- ,—we must draw thee up ;And have my thanks for all.

Assist, good friends. [Exeunt, bearing ANTONY. ANT.

O, quick, or I am gone ! Cleo. Here's sport, indeed !-How heavy

weighs my lord ! SCENE XV.-The same. A Monument Our strength is all gone into heaviness ;

That makes the weight. Had I great Juno's Enter, above, CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, and IRAS.


The strong-wing’d Mercury should fetch thee up, Cleo. O, Charmian, I will never go from hence.

And set thee by Jove's side. Yet come a little,– CHAR. Be comforted, dear madam.

Wishers were ever fools, -O, come, come, coine ! CLEO. No, I will not:

[They draw ANTONY up. All strange and terrible events are welcome,

And welcome, welcome! die where* thou bast But comforts we despise; our size of sorrow,

liv'd ! Proportion'd to our cause, must be as great Quicken with kissing ! had my lips that power, As that which makes it.

Thus would I wear them out.

A heavy sight!
Enter, below, DIOMEDES.

Ant. I am dying,-Egypt,-dying ;

Give me some wine, and let me speak a little. How now! is he dead ?

Cleo. No, let me speak; and let me rail so Dio. His death 's upon him, but not dead.


disposd with Cæsar,-) See note (1), p. 563. b-brooch'd- ) Adorned, decorated. So in "Titus Andronicus," Act 1. Sc. 1,

“Sufficeth not, that we are brought to Rome

To beautify thy triumphs," c Here's sport, indeed !) The pathos of this exclamation, so

(*) old text, when. piteous in the contrast it implies between the fallen queen's present occupation and the diversions of her happier times, is quite lost on Mr. Collier's unsusceptible connentator, who coolly reads, "Here's port, indeed."!

That the false housewife, Fortune, break her wheel, Iras. She is dead too, our sovereign !
Provok'd by my offence.


Lady! ANT. One word, sweet queen: IRAS.

Madam! Of Cæsar seek your honour, with your safety.—0! CHAR. O madam, madam, madam ! Cleo. They do not go together.


Royal Egypt ! ANT.

Gentle, hear me ; Empress ! None about Cæsar trust but Proculeius.

CHAR. Peace, peace, Iras !

[commanded Cleo. My resolution and my hands I'll trust ; Cleo. No more, but e’en *

a woman, and None about Cæsar.

By such poor passion as the maid that milks, Ant. The miserable change now at my end, And does the meanest chares.-It were for me Lament nor sorrow at; but please your thoughts, To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods ; In feeding them with those my former fortunes To tell them that this world did equal theirs, Wherein I liv’d, the greatest prince o' the world, Till they had stol'n our jewel.—All's but nought; The noblest ; and do now not basely die,

Patience is sottish, and impatience does Not cowardly put off b my helmet to

Become a dog that's mad: then is it sin My countryman,—a Roman by a Roman

To rush into the secret house of death, Valiantly vanquish’d.(3) Now, my spirit is going ;- Ere death dare come to us?—How do you, I can no more.


[Charmian! CLEO. Noblest of men, woo't die ? What, what! good cheer ! Why, how now, Hast thou no care of me? shall I abide

My noble girls —Ah, women, women! look, In this dull world, which in thy absence is Our lamp is spent, it's out !—Good sirs, take No better than a sty?—0, see, my women,

heart :

[noble, CANTONY dies.

We'll bury him ; and then, what's brave, what's

1 The crown o' the earth doth melt !- My lord !- Let's do it after the high Roman fashion, O, wither'd is the garland of the war !

And make Death proud to take us.

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

away : Are level now with men ; the odds is gone, This case of that huge spirit now is cold.-And there is nothing left remarkable •

Ah, women, women !come ; we have no friend Beneath the visiting moon.


But resolution, and the briefest end. CHAR.

O, quietness, lady! [Exeunt; those above bearing of' Antony's body.




- housewife, Fortune,–] "Housewife" is here used in the loose sense, which it often bore, of hussy, or harlot. So in “ Henry V." Act V. Sc. 1, Pistol asks,—“Doth Fortune play the huswife with me now!"

and do now not basely die,
Not cowardly put off my helmet to

My countryman,-)
Thus the textus receplus, but perhaps we ought to read, -

" — and do now not basely die,
Not cowardly, but doff my helmet to

My countryman," &c. c And there is nothing left remarkable—] In Shakespeare's time, the word “remarkable" bore a far more impressive and appropriate meaning than with us. It then expressed not merely observable or noteworthy, but something profoundly striking and uncommon. d Good sirs, take heart: Mr. Dyce has shown that this form

(*) First folio, in, corrected by Capell. of addressing women was not unusual; and, consequently, that the modern stage direction here, “[To the Guard below," is iniproper. Thus, as quoted by Mr. Dyce from Beaumont and Fletcher's play of "The Coxcomb," Act IV. Sc. 3, the mother, speaking to Viola, Nan, and Madge, says,

Sirs, to your tasks, and shew this little novice

How to bestir herself," &c.
Again, as quoted by Mr. Dyce from the same authors' “A King
and No King,” Act III. Sc. 1,-

Spa. I do beseech you, madam, send away
Your other women, and receive from me
A few sad words, which, set against your joys,
May make 'em shine the more.
Pan. Sirs, leave me all.

[Exeunt Waiting-women,

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Cæs. Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield;
Being so frustrate,“ tell him, he mocks
The pauses that he makes.
Dol. Cæsar, I shall.



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


What is't thou say'st ? DER. I say, 0, Cæsar, Antony is dead ! Cæs. The breaking of so great a thing should



Enter DERCETAS, with the sword of ANTONY. Cæs. Wherefore is that? and what art thou

that dar’st Appear thus to us?


Being so frustrate, tell him, he mocks

The pauses that he makes.] Malone reads, “- tell him, he mocks us by-" &c. Steevens proposed, frustrated, or to read,

tell bim that he mocks—" &c. Mr. Collior's annotator,

"— tell him, that he mocks us and Mr. Sidney Walker would adhere to the old text, but, as was not unusual with the poet's contemporaries, pronounce "frustrate " trisyllabically.


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A greater crack : the round world

Of thy intents desires instruction,
Should have shook lions into civil streets,

That she preparedly may frame herself
And citizens to their dens :—the death of Antony To the way she's forc'd to.
Is not a single doom; in the name lay


Bid her have good heart ; A moiety of the world.

She soon shall know of us, by some of ours, DER. He is dead, Cæsar,

How honourable and how kindly we Not by a public minister of justice,

Determine for her: for Cæsar cannot live * Nor by a hired knife; but that self hand,

To be ungentle. Which writ his honour in the acts it did,

MESS. So the gods preserve thee! [Exit. Hath, with the courage which the heart did lend it, CÆS. Come hither, Proculeius. Go, and say, Splitted the heart.—This is his sword;

We purpose her no shame: give her what I robb’d his wound of it; behold it, stain'd

comforts With his most noble blood.

The quality of her passion shall require, CÆs.

Look you sad, friends ? Lest, in her greatness, by some mortal stroke The gods rebuke me, but it is tidings

She do defeat us ; for her life in Rome To wash the eyes of kings.

Would be eternal in our triumph: go, AGR.*

And strange it is And with your speediest bring us what she says, That nature must compel us to lament

And how you find of her. Our most persisted deeds.

Pro. Cæsar, I shall.

[Exit. MEC.

His taints and honours Cæs. Gallus, go you along. [Exit GALLUS. Wag' equal with him.

Where's Dolabella, Agi + A rarer spirit never

To second Proculeius ? Did steer humanity: but you, gods, will give us AGR., MEC. Dolabella ! Some faults to make us men.-Cæsar is touch'd. CÆs. Let him alone, for I remember now Mec. When such a spacious mirror's set How he's employed : he shall in time be ready. before him,

Go with me to my tent; where you shall see He needs must see himself.

How hardly I was drawn into this war ;
0, Antony !

How calm and gentle I proceeded still
I have follow'd thee to this ; —but we do lance In all my writings. Go with me, and see
Diseases in our bodies : I must perforce

What I can show in this.

[Exeunt. Have shown to thee such a declining day, Or look on thine ; we could not stall together In the whole world. But yet let me lament,

SCENE II.--Alexandria. A Room in the 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

Cleo. My desolation does begin to make Where mine his thoughts did kindle,—that our A better life. 'Tis paltry to be Cæsar ; stars,

Not being Fortune, he's but Fortune's knave, Unreconciliable, should divide

A minister of her will : and it is great
Our equalness to this.--Hear me, good friends,-

To do that thing that ends all other deeds ;
Which shackles accidents, and bolts up ehange ;

Which sleeps, and never palates more the dug,
Enter a Messenger.

The beggar's nurse and Cæsar's. But I will tell you at some meeter season ; The business of this man looks out of him, Enter, to the gates of the Monument, PROCULEIUS, We'll hear him what he says.—Whence are you?

GALLUS, and Soldiers. Mess. A poor Egyptian yet. The queen my mistress,

Pro. Cæsar sends greeting to the queen of Confin’d in all she has, her monument,


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(*) First folio, Dol.

(t) First folio, Dol. å - the round world-) Something has evidently been lost here. b yet.] That is, now.

and nerer palutes more the dug, The begyar's nurse und Carar's.] 579

(*) Old text, leave. Corrected by Southern In the old copies we have,

and never palates more the dung," &c. an obvious misprint, though not wanting defenders, which was eorrected by Warburton.

PP 2


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