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Enter Dercetas, and Guara, i Guard. What's the noise ?

Ant. I've done my work ill, friends : O, make an end of what I have begun. 2 Guard. The ftar is faln. i Guard. And time is at his period ! All. Alas, and woe! Ant. Let him, that loves me, Atrike me dead. i Guard. Not I. 2 Guard. Nor I. 3 Guard. Nor any one.

[Exeunt. Der. Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers fly. This sword but shewn to Cafar, with this tidings, Shall enter me with him.

Enter Diomedes. Die. Where's Antony ? Der. There, Diomed, there. Dio, Lives he? wilt thou not answer, man? Ant. Art thou there, Diomed? draw thy sword, and

give me Sufficing strokes for death.

Dio. Most absolute Lord.
My Mistress Cleopatra fent me to thee.

Ant. When did she send thee?
Dio. Now, my Lord.
Ant. Where is she ?
Dio. Lockt in her Monument. She had a prophe

fying fear
Of what hath come to pass; for when she saw,
(Which never shall be found) you did suspect
She had dispos'd with Cæfar ; and that your rage
Would not be purg'd, she sent word she was dead.
But fearing fince 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


Dio. What, ho! the Emperor's Guard. The Guard,

what, hoa! Come, your Lord calls.

Enter the Guard. Ant. Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra bides, 'Tis the last service that I shall command you.

Guard. Woe are we, Sir! you may not live to wear All your true follow'rs out.

Ål. Most heavy day!
Ant. Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp


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 changes to a magnificent Monument.

Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, and Iras, above.

Cleo. OH hence.

Char. Be comforţed, dear Madam.
Cleo. No, I will not :
All Arange 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 Diomedes.
How now? is he dead ?

Dio. His death's upon him, but not dead.
Look out o'th' other side your Monument,
His Guard have brought him thither.

Enter Antony, borne by the Guard.
Cleo. O thou Sun,
Burn the great Sphere thou mov'it in !-darkling stand
The varying shore o'th' world! O Antony !



Help, Charmian; help, Iras, help; help, friends,
Below; let's draw him hither.

Ant. Peace.
Not Cafar's valour hath o'er-thrown Antony,
But Antony hath triomph'd on himself.

Cleo. So it should be, that none but Antony
Should conquer Antony ; but, woe, 'tis fo!

Ant. I am dying, Ægypt, dying ; only yet (31) I here importune death a while, until Of many thousand kisses the


laft I lay upon thy lips. Come down.

Cleo. I dare not, (Dear, dear my Lord, your pardon, that I dare not ;) Left I be taken ; not th' imperious thew Of the full-fortun'd Cafar ever shall Be brooch'd with me; if knife, drugs, ferpents, have Edge, fting, or operation, I am fafe: Your Wife Oktavia, with her modeft eyes And fill conclusion, shall acquire no honour,

(31) I bere importune Death a wbile, until

of many tbou fand Kiffes the poor laß

I lay upon tby Lips. Cleo. I dare not, dear,

Dear my Lord, pardon ; 1 dare not,

Left I be taken.] What curious hobbling Verfification de we encounter here in the laft Lime' but one ? Befides, how inconfiftently is the Lady made to reply? Antony says, he only holds Life, 'till he can give her one last Kiss: and She cries, She dares not : What dares the not do? Kiss Antony? But how thould she? She was above lock'd in her Monument; and He below, on the Outfide of it. With a very slight Addition, I think, I can cure the whole ; and have a Warrant from Plutarcb for it into the Bargain.

Now Plutarcb fays that “ Antony was carried in his Men's “ Arms into tbe Entry of the Monument : Notwithlanding, Cleo.

patra would not open the Gates, but came to the bigh Windows, “ and cast out certain Chains and Ropes, &c.". So that Antony might very reasonably defire her to come down ; and She as reasonably excufs herself, for fear of being in nared by Cafar,


Demuring upon me. But come, come, Antony.
Help me, my women ; we must draw thee up-
Afit, good friends.

Ant. oh, quick, or I am gone.
Cleo. 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 fide. Yet come a little,
Wilhers were ever fools. Oh come, come, come

[They draw Antony up to Cleopatra. And welcome, welcome. Die, where thou hast liv'd; Quicken with kiffing; had my lips that power, Thus would I wear them out.

All. O heavy fight!

Ant. I am dying, Ægypt, 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 huswife Fortune break her wheel,
Provok'd by my offence.

Ant. One word, sweet Queen.
Of Cæfar seek your honour, with your safety-oh-

Cheo. They do not go together.

Ant. Gentle, hear me ;
None about Cæfar trust, but Proculeius.

Cleo. My resolution, and my hands, I'll trust;
None about Cæfar.

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 T liv'd the greatest prince o' th' world,
The noblest once ; and do not now basely die,
Nor cowardly put off my helmet to
My countryman: A Roman, by à Roman
Valiantly vanquish'd. Now, my spirit is going;
I can no more-

[Antony diera
Cleo. Nobleft of men !--woo't die?
Haft thou no care of me? shall I abide
In this dull world, which in thy absence is


No better than a stye? O see, my women!
The crown o'th earth doth melt-my Lord !
Oh, 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.

[She faints.
Char. Oh, quietness, Lady!
Iras. She's dead too, our sovereign.
Cbar. Lady!
Iras. Madam!
Char. Oh Madam, Madam, Madam-
Iras. Royal Ægypt! Empress !
Char. Peace, peace, Iras.

Cleo. No more but a meer woman, and commanded
By such poor passion as the maid that milks,
And does the meanest chares ! It were for me
To throw my scepter at the injurious Gods;
To tell them, that this world did equal theirs,
'Till they had ftol'n our jewel. All's but naught:
Patience is fottish, 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, Cbarmian?
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 falhion,
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 refolution, and the briefet end.

Exeunt, bearing off Antony's body.


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