Enter Diomedes. As that which makes it.-How now? is he dead? His guard have brought him thither. Enter Antony, borne by the Guard. O thou sun, Cleo. Burn the great sphere thou mov'st in!-darkling stand The varying shore o'the world!-O Antony! Antony, Antony!-Charmian, help; help, Iras; Help, friends below; let's draw him hither. Peace: Ant. Cleo. So it should be, that none but Antony Cleo. Lest I be taken: not the imperious show Of the full-fortun'd Cæsar ever shall Be brooch'd2 with me; if knife, drugs, serpents, have Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe: Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes, And still conclusion,3 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!-How heavy weighs my lord! (1) Without light. (2) Ornamented. Sedate determination. Our strength is all gone into heaviness, All. power, 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 house-wife Fortune break her wheel, Provok'd by my offence. Ant. One word, sweet queen : Of Cæsar seek your honour, with your safety.-O! 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, Nor cowardly; put off my helmet to My countryman, a Roman, by a Roman Valiantly vanquish'd. Now, my spirit is going; I can no more. [Dies. 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 stye?-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 fallen; young boys, and girls, (1) Revive. Are level now with men: the odds is gone, And there is nothing left remarkable Char. [She faints. O, quietness, lady! Iras. She is dead too, our sovereign. Char. Iras. Lady, Madam,- Royal Egypt! Char. O madam, madam, madam! Iras. Empress! Char. Peace, peace, Iras. Cleo. No more, but e'en a woman; and commanded By such poor passion as the maid that milks, mian? My noble girls!--Ah, women, women! look, noble, Let's do it after the high Roman fashion, 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 resolution, and the briefest end. [Exeunt; those above bearing off Antony's body. (1) Task-work. ACT V. SCENE I-Caesar's camp before Alexandria. Enter Cæsar, Agrippa, Dolabella, Mæcenas, Gallus, Proculeius, and others. Cæs. Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield; Being so frustrate,' tell him, he mocks us by The pauses that he makes.2 Dol. Cæsar, I shall. [Exit Dolabella. Enter Dercetas, with the sword of Antony. Cas. Wherefore is that? and what art thou, that dar'st Appear thus to us? Der. I am call'd Dercetas; To spend upon his haters: If thou please I yield thee up my life. Cœs. What is't thou say'st? Der. I say, O Cæsar, Antouy is dead. Caes. The breaking of so great a thing should make A greater crack: The round world should have shock Lions into civil streets, And citizens to their dens :-The death of Antony Is not a single doom; in the name lay A moiety of the world. Der. He is dead, Cæsar; Not by a public minister of justice, Nor by a hired knife; but that self hand, Hath, with the courage which the heart did lend it, (1) Frustrated. (2) He trifles with us. Splitted the heart.-This is his sword, I robb'd his wound of it; behold it stain'd Cœs. Look you sad, friends? The gods rebuke me, but it is a tidings To wash the eyes of kings. Agr. And strange it is, His taints and honours That nature must compel us to lament Mac. A rarer spirit never Waged equal with him. He needs must see himself. Cæs. O Antony! I have follow'd thee to this ;-But we do lance Where mine his thoughts did kindle,-that our stars, Unreconciliable, should divide Our equalness to this.-Hear me, good friends,--But I will tell you at some meeter season; Enter a Messenger. The business of this man looks out of him, We'll hear him what he says.-Whence are you? Mess. A poor Egyptian yet. The queen my mistress, (1) Its. |