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should not do, but in the way of honesty: how she died of the biting of it; what pain she felt. Truly, she makes a very good report o'the worm: But he that will believe all that they say, shall never be saved by half that they do: But this is most fallible, the worm's an odd worm.

Cleo. Get thee hence; farewell.

Clown. I wish you all joy of the worm.

[Setting down his Basket.

Cleo. Farewell.

Clown. You must think this, look you, that the worm will do his kind.

Cleo. Ay, ay; farewell.

Clown. Look you, the worm is not to be trusted, but in the keeping of wise people; for, indeed, there is no goodness in the worm.

Cleo. Take thou no care; it shall be heeded.

Clown. Very good: give it nothing, I pray you, for it is not worth the feeding.

Cleo. Well, get thee gone; farewell.

Clown. Yes, forsooth: I wish you joy of the worm.


Enter Iras, with Robe, etc.

Cleo. Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have Immortal longings in me: Now no more The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip:— Yare, yare, good Iras; quick, —Methinks I hear Antony call; I see him rouse himself To praise my noble act; I hear him mock The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men, To excuse their after wrath: Husband, I come:

[Goes to a Bed, or sofa, which she ascends; her Women compose her on it: Iras sets the Basket, which she has been holding upon her own Arm, by her. 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 last warmth of my lips.
Farewell, kind Charmian;—Iras, long farewell.

[Kissing them. Iras Jails.
Have I the aspick in my lips? Dost fall?
If thou and nature can so gently part,
The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch,
Which hurts, and is desir'd. Dost thou lie still?
If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world
It is not worth leave-taking.

Char. Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain; that I may say, The gods themselves do weep!

Cleo. This proves me base: If she first meet the curled Antony, He'll make demand of her; and spend that kiss, Which is my heaven to have.—Come, mortal wretch,

[To the Asp; applying it to her Breast. With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate Of life at once untie: poor venomous fool,

[Stirring it. Be angry, and despatch. O, couldst thou speak! That I might hear thee call great Caesar, ass, Unpolicy'd!

Char. O eastern star!

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

Char. O, break 1 O, break!

Cleo. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle— O Antony!—Nay, I will take thee too:—

[Applying another Asp to her Arm. What should I stay— [Dies.

Enter some of the Guard.

1 Guard Where is the queen? Char. Speak softly, wake her not. 1 Guard. Caesar hath sent— Char. Too slow a messenger. [Applying the Asp, O, come apace, despatch; I partly feel thee.

1 Guard. Approach, ho! All's not well: Caesar's


2 Guard. There's Dolabella, sent from Caesar: call


1 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, soldier ! [Dies.

Enter Dolabella.

Dol. How goes it here?

2 Guard. All dead.
Dol. Caesar, thy thoughts

Touch their effects in this: Thyself art coming
To see perform'd the dreaded act, which thou
So sought'st to hinder.

Enter Caesar, and Train.

Dol. O, sir, you are too sure an augurer;
That you did fear, is done.

Oct. Krav'st at the last:
She leveled at our purposes, and, being royal,
Took her own way.—The manner of their deaths?
I do not see them bleed.

Dol. Who was last with them?

1 Guard. A simple countryman, that brought her figs; This was his basket.

Oct. Poisoned, then.

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

1 Guard. This is an aspick's trail;

[Pointing to the Floor.

And these fig-leaves have slime upon them, such
As the aspick leaves upon the caves of Nile.

Oct. Most probable,
That so she dy'd: for her physician tells me,
She hath pursu'd conclusions infinite
Of easy ways to die.—Take up her bed;
And bear her women from the monument:—
She shall be bury'd 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
No less in pity, than his glory, which
Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall,
In solemn show, attend this funeral;
And then to Rome. Come, Dolabella, see
High order in this great solemnity. [Exeunt.




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