Bear witness, gods, you heard him bid me go. You, whom he mock'd with imprecating vOWS Of promised faith-I'll die, I will not bear it.

Enter ALEXAS.

Art thou there, traitor !——Oh,

Oh, for a little breath, to vent my rage. Alex. Yes, I deserve it, for my ill-timed truth.

Cleo. I would reason

More calmly with you. Did you not o'errule,

And force my plain, direct, and open love,
Into these crooked paths of jealousy?
Now, what's th' event? Octavia is removed;
But Cleopatra banish'd.

Alex. Believe me, Madam, Antony is yours.
His heart was never lost; but started off
To jealousy, love's last retreat and covert;
Where it lies hid in shades, watchful in si-
lence,

And listening for the sound that calls it back.
Some other, any man, 'tis so advanced,
May perfect this unfinish'd work, which I
(Unhappy only to myself) have left
So easy to his hand.

Cleo. Look well thou do't; else--
Alex. Else, what your silence threatens-
Antony

Is mounted up the Pharos; from whose turret,

He stands surveying our Egyptain galleys, Engaged with Cæsar's fleet, now death, or conquest;

If the first happen, fate acquits my promise, If we o'ercome, the conqueror is yours. [A distant shout within. Char. Have comfort, Madam: Did you mark that shout? [Second shout nearer. Iras. Hark, they redouble it. Alex. "Tis from the port. The loudness shows it near. kind Heavens.

Enter SERAPION.

Ser. Where, where's the queen?

O horror, horror,

But not as foes. In few we saw their caps On either side thrown up, the Egyptian galleys,

Received like friends, pass'd through, and fell behind [ward, The Roman rear, and now, they all come forAnd ride within the port.

Cleo. Enough, Serapion:

I've heard my doom. This needed not, you gods:

When I lost Antony, your work was done. Where's my lord? How bears he this last blow?

Ser. His fury cannot be expressed by words;

Thrice he attempted headlong to have fallen Full on his foes, and aim'd at Cæsar's galley; Withheld, he raves on you, cries, he's betray'd.

Should he now find you

Alex. Shun him, seek your safety, Till you can clear your innocence. Cleo. I'll stay.

Alex. You must not; haste you to the monument,

While I make speed to Cæsar.
Cleo. Cæsar! No,

I have no business with him.
Alex. I can work him,

To spare your life, and let this madman perish.

Cleo. Base, fawning wretch! wouldst thou betray him too?

Hence from my sight, I will not hear a traitor;

"Twas thy design brought all this ruin on us. Serapion, thou art honest; counsel me; But haste, each moment's precious.

Ser. Retire; you must not yet see Antony. He who began this mischief, 'Tis just he tempt the danger: let him clear

you;

Egypt has been, the latest hour is come.
The queen of nations from her ancient seat
Is sunk for ever in the dark abyss.
Time has unroll'd her glories to the last,
And now closed up the volume.

Cleo. Be more plain;

Say, whence thou cam'st, (though fate is in thy face,

Which from thy haggard eyes look wildly out, And threatens ere thou speak'st.)

Ser. I came from Pharos,

From viewing (spare me and imagine it)
Our land's last hope, your navy-
Cleo. Vanquish'd."

Ser. No,

They fought not.

Cleo. Then they fled.

Ser. Nor that. I saw,

With Antony your well appointed fleet Row out; and thrice he waved his hand on high,

[back.

And thrice with cheerful cries they shouted The well-timed oars,

Now dipp'd from every bark, now smoothly

run

To meet the foe, and soon, indeed, they met,

Alex. O Heavens! I dare not:

I meet my certain death.

Cleo. Slave, thou deserv'st it.

Not that I fear my lord will I avoid him;

I know him noble: When he banish'd me, And thought me false, he scorn'd to take my

life:

But I'll be justify'd, and then die with him.
Alex. O pity me, and let me follow you.
Cleo. To death, if thou stir hence. Speak,
if thou canst,

save,

Now for thy life, which basely thou wouldst While mine I prize at this. Come, good Sera[pion. [Exeunt CLEO. SER. CHAR. and IRAS. Alex. Oh! that I less could fear to lose this

being,

Which like a snow-ball in my coward hand,
The more 'tis grasp'd, the faster melts away.
Poor reason! What a wretched aid art thou!
For still, in spite of thee,

These two long lovers, soul and body, dread
Their final separation. Let me think:
What can I say, to save myself from death?
No matter what becomes of Cleopatra.
Ant. Which way? Where?
Vent. This leads to th' monument.

[Within.

[Within.

Alex. Ah me! I hear him: yet I'm unprepared, My gift of lying's gone;

Ant. They're enough.

We'll not divide our stars; but side by side Fight emulous, and with malicious eyes Survey each other's acts.

Vent. Now you shall see I love you. By my few hours of life,

I am so pleased with this brave Roman fate,
That I would not be Cæsar to outlive you.
When we put off this flesh and mount together,
It shall be shown to all th' ethereal crowd,
Lo, this is he who died with Antony.

Ant. Who knows but we may pierce through all their troops,

And reach my veterans yet? 'Tis worth the tempting.

By love or you.

Ant. Fled to her Dolabella!

Die, traitor, I revoke my promise, die.

Alex. O hold, she is not fled.
Ant. She is. My eyes

How easily might she have gone to Cæsar,
Secure by such a bribe!

Vent. She sent it first,
To be more welcome after.
Ant. 'Tis too plain;

Else would she have appear'd to clear herself.
Alex. She could not bear

To be accused by you; but shut herself, Within her monument: look'd down and sigh'd: [tears While, from her unchanged face, the silent Dropp'd, as they had not leave, but stole their parting.

Some undistinguish'd words she inly mur-
mur'd;
[looks
At last she raised her eyes, and with such
As dying Lucrece cast-

Ant. My heart forbodes--
Vent. Go on.

Alex. She snatch'd her poniard,

And, ere we could prevent the fatal blow, Plunged it within her breast: then turn'd to

Oh, those two words! their sound should be divided:

Hadst thou been false, and died: or hadst thou lived, [death! And hadst been true-But innocence and This shows not well above. Then what am I? The murderer of this truth, this innocence! Thoughts cannot form themselves in words so horrid

As can express my guilt!

Vent. Is't come to this? The gods have been too gracious, And thus you thank them for't.

Ant. [To ALEX.] Why stay'st thou here? Thou art not worthy to behold what now Becomes a Roman emperor to perform.

[Exit ALE. Vent. Would she had died a little sooner though,

Before Octavia went; you might have treated; Now 'twill look tame, and would not be received. [gether.

Come, rouse yourself, and let's die warm toAnt. O Ventidius!

What should 1 fight for now? My queen is

dead.

[pire,

Are open to her falsehood. My whole life Has been a golden dream of love and friendship:

But now I wake, I'm like a merchant, roused From soft repose, to see his vessel sinking, And all his wealth cast o'er. Ungrateful woman! [mer, Who follow'd me, but as the swallow sumBut, now my winter comes, she spreads her wings,

And seeks the spring of Cæsar.

Alex. Think not so:

Her fortunes have, in all things, mix'd with

yours.

Had she betray'd her naval force to Rome,

Vent. Would you be taken?
Ant. Yes, I would be taken;

But as a Roman ought, dead, my Ventidius.
Vent. Choose your death;

For I have seen him in such various shapes,
I care not which I take: I'm only troubled,
The life I bear is worn to such a rag,
'Tis scarce worth giving. I could wish, in-
deed,

We threw it from us with a better grace;
That like two lions taken in the toils,

We might at least thrust out our paws and wound

The hunters that enclose us.

Kill me, and take the merit of my death

To make thee friends with Cæsar.

Vent. Thank your kindness.

You said I loved you; and, in recompense,
You bid me turn a traitor! Did I think

You would have used me thus! that I should die

With a hard thought of you!

Ant. Forgive me, Roman.

Since I have heard of Cleopatra's death,
My reason bears no rule upon my tongue,
But lets my thoughts break all at random out.
I've thought better; do not deny me twice.
Vent. By Heaven I will not,

Let it not be t'outlive you.

Ant. Kill me first,

Ant. Enough! my life's not long enough for [thee; Thou say'st thou wilt come after; I believe For I can now believe whate'er thou say'st, That we may part more kindly.

Cleo. I will come;

Thy friend before thyself.

Vent. Give me your handWe soon shall meet again.

Now, farewell, emperor. [Embrace. Methinks that word's too cold to be my last: Since death sweeps all distinctions, farewell, That's all [friend.

I will not make a business of a trifle-
And yet I can not look on you and kill you.
Pray turn your face.

Ant. I do: Strike home, be sure. Vent. Home, as my sword will reach. [Stabs himself. Ant. O thou mistakest! [back. That wound was none of thine; give it me Thou robb'st me of my death.

Vent. I do indeed;

But, think, 'tis the first time I e'er deceived you; [gods, If that may plead my pardon. And, you Forgive me, if you will, for I die perjured, Rather than kill my friend. [Dies.

Ant. Farewell! ever my leader, even in death!

My queen and thou have got the start of me:
And I'm the lag of honour.-Gone so soon!
Is death no more? "Tis not worth him
My further thought; for death, for ought
Is but to think no more.
[know,
Here's to be satisfied. [Falls on his sword.
I've miss'd my heart-O unperforming hand!
Thou never couldst have err'd in a worse
time.
[Trampling within.
Some perhaps from Cæsar! I'll mend
My work, ere they can reach me.

[Rises upon his kness.

Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, and IRAS. Cleo. Where is my lord? where is he? My fears were prophets! I am come too late! O that accursed Alexas! [Runs to him.

Ant. Art thou living?

Or am I dead before I knew, and thou
The first kind ghost that meets me?
Cleo. How is it with you?

Ant. "Tis as with a man
Removing in a hurry; all pack'd up,
But one dear jewel that his haste forgot;
And he, for that, returns upon the spur:
So I come back for thee.

Cico. Too long, ye Heavens, you have been cruel to me!

O now be kind, and give me back

His fleeting life.

Ant. It will not be, my love:

I keep my soul by force.

Say but thou art not false.

Think we have had a clear and glorious day;
And Heaven did kindly to delay the storm
Just till our close of evening. Ten years love,
And not a moment lost, but all improved,
To th' utmost joys! What ages have we lived!
And now to die each other's! and so dying,
While hand in hand we walk in groves below,
Whole troops of lovers' ghosts shall flock about
And all the train be ours.
Lus,

Cleo. Your words are like tho notes of dying

swans,

Too sweet to last. Were there so many hours For your unkindness, and not one for love? Ant. No, not a minute-this one kiss-more worth

Than all I leave to Cæsar

[Dies. Ting!

Cleo. O tell me so again! My lord! my lord! speak, if you yet have beSigh to me if you cannot speak! or cast One look; do any thing that shows you live. Iras. He's gone too far to hear you. Char. Remember, Madam, He charged you not to grieve.

Cleo. And I'll obey him.

I have not loved a Roman, not to know

What should become his wife-his wife, my
Charmion!

For 'tis to that high title I aspire;
And now I'll not die less.

Iras. Will you then die?

Cleo. Why shouldst thou make that ques

tion?

Fly both, and bring the cure of all our ills.
Iras. The aspicks, Madam?
Cleo. Must I bid you twice?

[Exeunt CHAR. and IRAS. 'Tis sweet to die, when they would force lite

on me,

To rush into the dark abode of death,
And meet my love.

O welcome, welcome.

Enter CHAR. and IRAs, with the aspicks, &c.

Cleo. Welcome thou kind deceiver! [Puts aside the leaves, Thou best of thieves; who with an easy key, Dost open life, and unperceived by us, Even steals us from ourselves.

Ser. [Within.] The queen, where is she? The town is yielded, Cæsar's at the gates. Cleo. He comes too late t' invade the rights

of death.

Haste, haste, my friend, and rouse the serpent's fury.

[Holds out her arm, and draws it back. Coward flesh{me, Wouldst thou conspire with Cæsar, to betray

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But bring myself, my soul to Antony.
[Shows her arm bloody.
Take hence; the work is done.
Ser. [Within.] Break ope the door,
And guard the traitor well.

[They apply the aspicks.
Cleo. Already, death I feel thee in my veins;
I go with such a will to find my lord,
That we shall quickly meet.

A heavy numbness creeps through every limb, And now 'tis at my head: my eyelids fall, And my dear love is vanish'd in a mist! Caesar, thy worst,

Now part us, if thou canst.

[Dies. [IRAS sinks down at her feet and dies; CHARMION stands behind her chair as dressing her head.

2d. Priest. Behold, Serapion, what havock death has made!

Ser. 'Twas what I fear'd.

See how the lovers lie in state together,
As they were giving law to half mankind.
Th' impression of a smile left in her face,
Shows she died pleased with him for whom
she lived,

And went to charm him in another world.
Cæsar's just entering; grief has now no leisure,
Secure that villain, as our pledge of safety,
To grace the imperial triumph. Sleep, bless'd
pair,
Secure from human chance, long ages out,
While all the storms of fate fly o'er your tomb;
And fame to late posterity shall tell,
No lovers lived so great, or died so well.