MAR. Death of one person can be paid but once, And that she has discharg'd. What thou wouldst do Is done unto thy hand: the last she spake

Was, Antony! most noble Antony!

Then in the midst a tearing groan did break
The name of Antony; it was divided

Between her heart and lips; she render'd life,
Thy name so buried in her.

ANT.
MAR.

Dead, then?

Dead.

ANT. Unarm, Eros; the long day's task is done,

And we must sleep!-That thou depart'st hence safe,

Does pay thy labour richly; go.-[Exit MARDIAN.] Off, pluck off!-
The seven-fold shield of Ajax cannot keep

The battery from my heart. O, cleave, my sides!
Heart, once be stronger than thy continent,
Crack thy frail case!-Apace, Eros, apace!-
No more a soldier:-bruised pieces, go;

You have been nobly borne.-From me a while.—
I will o'ertake thee, Cleopatra, and
Weep for my pardon. So it must be, for now
All length is torture.-Since the torch is out,
Lie down, and stray no farther. Now all labour
Mars what it does; yea, very force entangles
Itself with strength: seal then, and all is done!-
Eros!-I come, my queen :-Eros!-Stay for me:
Where souls do couch on flowers, we'll hand in hand,
And with our sprightly port make the ghosts gaze:
Dido and her Æneas shall want troops,

And all the haunt be ours.-Come, Eros, Eros!

Re-enter EROS.

Since Cleopatra died,

EROS. What would my lord?

ANT.

I have liv'd in such dishonour, that the gods

sword

Detest my baseness. I, that with my
Quarter'd the world, and o'er green Neptune's back
With ships made cities, condemn myself to lack
The courage of a woman; less noble mind
Than she which by her death our Cæsar tells,
I am conqueror of myself. Thou art sworn, Eros,
That, when the exigent should come, (which now
Is come indeed) when I should see behind me
The inevitable prosecution of

Disgrace and horror, that, on my command,

Thou then wouldst kill me: do 't; the time is come:

Thou strik'st not me, 't is Cæsar thou defeat'st.

Put colour in thy cheek.

EROS.

The gods withhold me!

Shall I do that which all the Parthian darts,
Though enemy, lost aim, and could not?

[Exit EROS.

Wouldst thou be window'd in great Rome, and see
Thy master thus with pleach'd arms, bending down
His corrigible neck, his face subdu'd

To penetrative shame, whilst the wheel'd seat
Of fortunate Cæsar, drawn before him, branded
His baseness that ensu'd?

I would not see 't.

EROS.
ANT. Come then; for with a wound I must be cur'd.
Draw that thy honest sword, which thou hast worn

Most useful for thy country.

EROS.

O, sir, pardon me!

ANT. When I did make thee free, swor'st thou not then To do this when I bade thee?

Or thy precedent services are all

Do it at once;

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 sword is drawn.

ANT.

[Turning from him.

Then let it do at once

My dear master,

The thing why thou hast drawn it.
EROS.

My captain, and my emperor, let me say,
Before I strike this bloody stroke, farewell.
ANT. "T is said, man ;-and farewell.

EROS. Farewell, great chief. Shall I strike now?
ANT.

Now, Eros.

EROS. Why, there then :-[Falls on his sword.]—thus I do escape

the sorrow

Of Antony's death.

ANT.

Thrice nobler than myself!

Thou teachest me, O, valiant Eros, what

I should, and thou couldst not. My queen and Eros

Have, by their brave instruction, 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.

[Dies.

Come then; and, Eros,

[Falling on his sword.

Thy master dies thy scholar; to do thus

I learn'd of thee.-How! not dead? not dead?—
The guard-ho!-0, despatch me.

1 GUARD.

Enter DERCETAS and Guard.

What's the noise?

ANT. I have done my work ill, friends: O, make an end

2 GUARD. Nor I.

3 GUARD. Nor any one.

DER. Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers fly. This sword but shown to Cæsar, with this tidings, Shall enter me with him.

[Exeunt Guard.

Wilt thou not answer, man?

[Exit DERCETAS.

ANT. Art thou there, Diomed? Draw thy sword, and give me

Sufficing strokes for death.

DIO. Lock'd in her monument. She had a prophesying fear Of what hath come to pass: for when she saw

(Which never shall be found) you did suspect

She had dispos'da with Cæsar, and that your rage

Would not be purg'd, she sent you word she was dead;
But, fearing since 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, ho!
Come, your lord calls!

Enter some of the Guard.

ANT. Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra bides;

"T is the last service that I shall command you.

1 GUARD. Woe, woe are we, sir, you may not live to wear All your true followers out.

ALL

Most heavy day!

ANT. Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp fate
To grace it with your sorrows: 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 XV.-The same. A Monument.

Enter, above, CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, and IRAS.

CLEO. O, Charmian, I will never go from hence.
CHAR. Be comforted, dear madam.

No, I will not:

CLEO.
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?

DIO. His death's upon him, but not dead. Look out o' the other side your monument, His guard have brought him thither.

CLEO.

Enter, below, ANTONY, borne by the Guard.

O, sun,

Burn the great sphere thou mov'st 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.

ANT.

Not Cæsar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony,
But Antony's hath triumph'd on itself.

CLEO. So it should be, that none but Antony
Should conquer Antony; but woe 't is so!
ANT. I am dying,-Egypt,-dying; only
I here impórtune death a while, until
Of many thousand kisses the poor last
I lay upon thy lips.-

CLEO.

I dare not, dear, (Dear my lord, pardon,) I dare not,

Lest I be taken: not the imperious show

Of the full-fortun'd Cæsar ever shall

Peace!

Be brooch'da 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.

ANT.

O, quick, or I am gone!

CLEO. Here's sport, indeed!b-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,

brooch'd-] Adorned, decorated. So in "Titus Andronicus," Act I. Sc. 1,-
"Sufficeth not, that we are brought to Rome
To beautify thy triumphs-"

b Here's sport, indeed!] The pathos of this exclamation, so 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 commentator, who coolly reads. "Here's port, indeed."!

Wishers were ever fools,-O, come, come, come!

[They draw ANTONY up. And welcome, welcome! die where* thou hast liv'd! Quicken with kissing! had my lips that power,

Thus would I wear them out.

ALL.

A heavy sight! ANT. I am dying,-Egypt,-dying;

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

CLEO. No, let me speak; and let me rail so high, That the false housewife, Fortune,a break her wheel, Provok'd by my offence.

One word, sweet queen:

ANT.
Of Cæsar seek your honour, with your safety.-0!
CLEO. They do not go together.

ANT.

Gentle, hear me;

None about Cæsar trust but Proculeius.

CLEO. My resolution and my hands I'll trust;
None about Cæsar.

ANT. 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 liv'd, 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. (3) Now, my spirit is going ;-
I can no more.-

CLEO.

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,
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.

[ANTONY dies.

[Faints.

CHAR.

O, quietness, lady!

(*) Old text, when.

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 receptus, but perhaps we ought to read,—

66 and do now not basely die, Not cowardly, but doff my helmet to My countryman," &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.