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(From Antony and Cleopatra, Act IV, Scene XIII) Enter, above, C LEOPATRA, C HARMIAN, and I RAS. | |
CHARMIAN. 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 | 5 |
Enter, below, DIOMEDES. As that which makes it. How now! is he dead? | |
| DIOMEDES. 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 | 10 |
| The varying shore o’ the world. O Antony, | |
| Antony, Antony!—Help, Charmian! help, Iras, help! | |
Help, friends below! let ’s draw him hither.
ANTONY. Peace! | |
| Not Cæsar’s valour hath o’erthrown Antony, | |
| But Antony’s hath triumphed on itself. | 15 |
| 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 awhile, until | |
| Of many thousand kisses the poor last | 20 |
I lay upon thy lips.—
CLEO. I dare not, dear, | |
| (Dear my lord, pardon,) I dare not, | |
| Lest I be taken: not th’ imperious show | |
| Of the full-fortun’d Cæsar ever shall | |
| Be brooch’d with me; if knife, drugs, serpents have | 25 |
| Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe: | |
| Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes | |
| And still conclusion, shall acquire no honour | |
| Demuring upon me.—But come, come, Antony,— | |
| Help me, my women,—we must draw thee up:— | 30 |
Assist, 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, | 35 |
| And set thee by Jove’s side. Yet come a little,— | |
| Wishers were ever fools;—Oh, come, come, come! | |
(They draw ANTONY up.) And welcome, welcome! die, where thou hast liv’d: | |
| Quicken with kissing; had my lips that power, | |
Thus would I wear them out.
ALL. A heavy sight! | 40 |
| 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 huswife Fortune break her wheel, | |
Provok’d by my offence.
ANT. One word, sweet queen: | 45 |
| Of Cæsar seek your honour with your safety.—Oh! | |
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. | 50 |
| 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, | 55 |
| 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. | |
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