No more a Soldier.

bruifed pieces, go;

[Unarming himself.

You have been nobly borne ;- from me a while

[Exit Eros.

I will o'ertake thee, Cleopatra, and
Weep for my pardon. So't must be, for now
All length is torture; fince the torch is out,
Lye down and ftray no further. Now all labour
Marrs what it does, yea, very force entangles
Itself with ftrength; feal then, and all is done.
Eros!- I come, my Queen-

1

-Eros!! -stay for me,

Where fouls do couch on flowers, we'll hand in hand,
And with our fprightly port make the Ghosts gaze ;
Dido and her Eneas fhall want troops,

And all the haunt be ours.

-Come, Eros, Eròs !

Enter Eros.

Eros. What would my Lord?
Ant. Since Cleopatra died,

I've liv'd in fuch difhonour, that the Gods
Deteft my baseness. I, that with my fword
Quarter'd the world, and o'er green Neptune's back,
Whips made cities; condemn myself, to lack
The courage of a woman; less noble-minded
Than fhe, which, by her death, our Cæfar tells,
"I'm conqueror of myself." Thou art fworn, Eres,
That when the exigent fhould come, which now
Is come indeed, when I fhould fee behind me
Th' inevitable profecution of difgrace

And horrour, that on my command thou then
Would't kill me. Do it, for the time is come:
Thou ftrik'ft not me, 'tis Cæfar thou defeat'st.
Put colour in thy cheek.

Eros. The Gods with-hold me!

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

Ant. Eros,

Would'ft thou be window'd in great Rome, and fee
Thy mafter thus with pleacht arms, bending down
His corrigible neck, his face fubdu'd

To

To penetrative fhame: whilft the wheel'd feat
Of fortunate Cæfar, drawn before him, branded
His bafeness that ensued?

Eros. I would not fee't.

Ant. Come then; for with a wound I must be cur'd. Draw that thy honeft fword, which thou haft worn Moft ufeful for thy Country.

Eros. Oh, Sir, pardon me.

Ant. When I did make thee free, fwor'st thou not

then

To do this when I bade thee? do it at once,
Or thy precedent fervices are all

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 fword is drawn.

Ant. Then let it do at once

The thing why thou haft drawn it.

Eros. My dear Master,

[Turning from him.

My Captain, and my Emp'ror! Let me fay,
Before I ftrike this bloody ftroke, farewel.

Ant. 'Tis faid, man,

-and farewel.

Eros. Farewel, great Chief. Shall I ftrike how?

Ant. Now, Eros.

Eros. Why, there then

Thus do I efcape the forrow

Of Antony's death.

Ant. Thrice nobler than myself!

[Eros kills himself.

[Dias.

Thot teacheft me, oh, valiant Eros, what

I should, and thou could't not; my Queen and Eros

Have by their brave inftruction 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. Come then; and, Eros,
Thy Master dies thy Scholar; to do thus

[Falling on bis fword. I learnt of thee. How, not yet dead ? not dead?The Guard-ho!-oh, dispatch me.

Enter Dercetas, and Guard.

1 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.

1 Guard. And time is at his period! All. Alas, and woe!

Ant. Let him, that loves me, ftrike me dead.

1 Guard. Not I.

2 Guard. Nor I.

3 Guard. Nor any one.

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

Enter Diomedes.

Dio. Where's Antony?

Der. There, Diomed, there.

Dio. Lives he? wilt thou not answer, man?

Ant. Art thou there, Diomed? draw thy fword, and give me

Sufficing ftrokes for death.

Dio. Moft abfolute Lord.

My Mistress Cleopatra fent me to thee.

Ant. When did fhe fend thee?

Dio. Now, my Lord.

Ant. Where is the ?

Dio. Lockt in her Monument. She had a prophe
fying fear

Of what hath come to pafs; for when she saw,
(Which never fhall be found) you did suspect
She had difpos'd with Cafar; and that your rage
Would not be purg'd, the fent word fhe was dead.
But fearing fince how it might work, hath fent
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, hoa!

Come, your Lord calls.

Enter the Guard.

Ant. Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra bides, 'Tis the laft fervice that I fhall command you.

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

All. Moft heavy day!

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

Το grace it with your forrows. 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 Charmian, I will never go from hence.

Char. Be comforted, dear Madam.

Cleo. No, I will not:

All strange and terrible events are welcome,
But comforts we despise; our fize of forrow,
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 fide your Monument, His Guard have brought him thither.

Enter Antony, borne by the Guard.

Cleo. O thou Sun,

Burn the great Sphere thou mov'ft in !-darkling ftand
The varying shore o' th' world! O Antony !

H S

Help,

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 triumph'd on himself.

Cleo. So it should be, that none but Antony
Should conquer Antony; but, woe, 'tis fo!
Ant. I am dying, Egypt, dying; only yet
(31) I here importune death a while, until
Of many thousand kiffes the poor last
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 fhew

Of the full fortun'd Cæfar ever shall

Be brooch'd with me; if knife, drugs, ferpents, have
Edge, fting, or operation, I am fafe:

Your Wife Octavia, with her modeft eyes
And ftill conclufion, fhall acquire no honour,

(31) I bere importune Death a while, until

Of many thousand Kiffes the poor laft
I lay upon tby Lips.

Cleo. I dare not, dear,

Dear my Lord, pardon; I dare not,

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

Now Plutarch fays that "Antony was carried in his Men's "Arms into the Entry of the Monument: Notwithstanding, Cleopatra would not open the Gates, but came to the high Windows, "and caft out certain Chains and Ropes, &c."- So that Antony might very reasonably defire her to come down; and She as reasonably excufe herself, for fear of being infnared by Cafar.

Demuring