She hath betray'd me, and shall die the death.

Mar. Death of one person can be paid but once,

And that she has discharg'd.

What thou would'st 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.

Thy name so buried in her.

Ant.

Mar.

She render'd life,

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

[Exit EROS,

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:

I have liv'd in such dishonour, that the gods
Detest my baseness. I, that with my sword
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 would'st 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!

Eros,

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

Ant.
Would'st thou be window'd in great Rome, and see
Thy master thus with pleach'd arms, bending down
His corrigible neck, his face subdued

To penetrative shame, whilst the wheel'd seat

Of fortunate Cæsar, drawn before him, branded
His baseness that ensued?

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? Do it at once,

Or thy precedent services 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 sword is drawn.
Ant.

The thing why thou hast drawn it.

Eros.

[Turning from him.

Then, let it do at once

My dear master,

My captain, and my emperor, let me say,

Before I strike this bloody stroke, farewell.

Ant. 'Tis said, man; and farewell.

Eros. Farewell, great chief. Shall I strike now?
Ant.

Now, Eros. Eros. Why, there then: - [Falls on his Sword.] Thus do I escape the sorrow

Of Antony's death.

Ant.

Thrice nobler than myself!

Thou teachest me, O valiant Eros! what

I should, and thou could'st 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. Come then; and, Eros,
Thy master dies thy scholar: to do thus

[Dies.

[Falling on his Sword.

I learn'd of thee. How! not dead? not dead? -
The guard! - how? O, despatch me!

1 Guard.

Enter DERCETAS and Guard.

What's the noise? Ant. I have done my work ill, friends: O! make an end

Of what I have begun.

Ant. Let him that loves me, strike me dead. 1 Guard.

Alas, and woe!

Not I.

2 Guard. Nor I.

3 Guard.

Nor any one.

[Exeunt Guard.

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

Ant. Art thou there, Diomed? Draw thy sword, and give me Sufficing strokes for death.

Dio.
My mistress, Cleopatra, sent me to thee.
Ant. When did she send thee?

Dio.

Ant.

Most absolute lord,

Now, my lord.

Where is she?

She had a prophesying fear

Dio. Lock'd in her monument.
Of what hath come to pass; for when she saw
(Which never shall be found) you did suspect
She had dispos'd 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; 'Tis 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

Seeming to bear it lightly.

and we punish it Take me up :

Which comes to punish us,

I have led you oft; carry me now, good friends,

And have my thanks for all.

[Exeunt, bearing ANTONY.

SCENE XIII.

The Same. A Monument.

Enter, above, CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, and IRAs. Cleo. O 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 size of sorrow,
Proportion'd to our cause, must be as great

Enter, below, Diomedes.

As that which makes it. — 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.

Enter, below, ANTONY, borne by the Guard.

Cleo. O sun,

Burn the great sphere thou mov'st in!

darkling stand

The varying shore o' th' world. O Antony, Antony, Antony!
Help, Charmian, help, Iras, help: help,

Not Cæsar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony,

But Antony's hath triumph'd on itself.

friends

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 importune death a while, until
Of many thousand kisses the poor last
I lay upon thy lips. —