It does, my lord.

Ant. My good knave* Eros, now thy captain is
Even such a body: here I am Antony;
Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave.
I made these wars for Egypt; and the queen,-
Whose heart, I thought, I had, for she had mine;
Which, while it was mine, had annex'd unto't
A million more, now lost,-she, Eros, has
Pack'd cards with Cæsar, and false play'd my glory
Unto an enemy's triumph.-

Nay, weep not, gentle Eros; there is left us
Ourselves to end ourselves.

Death of one person can be paid but once;
And that she has discharg'd: What thou wouldst 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: she render'd life,
Thy name so buried in her.


It were for me


To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods;
To tell them, that this world did equal theirs,
Till they had stolen our jewel. All's but naught;
Patience is sottish; and impatience does
Become a dog that's mad: Then is it sin,
To rush into the secret house of death,

Ere death dare come to us?-How do you, women?
What, what? good cheer? Why, how now, Char-
My noble girls!-Ah, women, women! look, [mian?


Our lamp is spent, it's out:-Good sirs, take heart :--
We'll bury him: and then, what's brave, what's
Let's do it after the high Roman fashion, [noble,
And make death proud to take us.
Come away:

This case of that huge spirit now is cold.



My desolation does begin to make A better life: 'Tis paltry to be Cæsar; Not being fortune, he's but fortune's knave*, A minister of her will: And it is great To do that thing that ends all other deeds; Which shackles accidents, and bolts up change; Which sleeps, and never palates more the dung, The beggar's nurse and Cæsar's.

CLEOPATRA'S DREAM, AND DESCRIPTION OF ANTONY. Cleo. I dream'd, there was an emperor Antony;O, such another sleep, that I might see

But such another man!


If it might please you,

Cleo. His face was as the heavens; and therein stuck

A sun, and moon; which kept their course, and The little O, the earth.



Most sovereign creature,― Cleo. His legs bestrid the ocean: his rear'd arm Crested the world: his voice was propertied As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends; But when he meant to quail and shake the orb, He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty, There was no winter in't; an autumn 'twas, + Crush.


That grew the more by reaping: His delights Were dolphin-like: they show'd his back above The element they liv'd in: In his livery


Walk'd crowns, and crownets; realms and islands As plates* dropp'd from his pocket.


How poor an instrument

May do a noble deed! he brings me liberty.
My resolution's plac'd, and I have nothing
Of woman in me: Now from head to foot
I am marble constant: now the fleeting moon
No planet is of mine.


Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have
Immortal longings in me: Now no more
The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip:-
Yare, yaret, good Iras; quick.-Methinks I hear
Antony call; I see him rouse himself

To praise my noble act; I hear him mock
The luck of Cæsar, which the gods give men
To excuse their after wrath: Husband, I come:
Now to that name my courage prove my title!
I am fire, and air; my other elements
I give to baser life. So, have you done?
Come, then, and take the last warmth of my lips.
Farewell, kind Charmian;-Iras, long farewell.
Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall?
If thou and nature can so gently part,
The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch,
Which hurts and is desir'd. Dost thou lie still?
If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world
It is not worth leave-taking.

*Silver money.

+ Inconstant.

+ Make haste.

Char. Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain; that I may The gods themselves do weep!



This proves me base: If she first meet the curled Antony, He'll make demand of her; and spend that kiss, Which is my heaven to have. Come, mortal wretch, [To the asp, which she applies to her breast. With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate Of life at once untie: poor venomous fool, Be angry, and despatch. O, couldst thou speak! That I might hear thee call great Cæsar, ass




O eastern star!

Peace, peace!

O, break! O, break!

Dost thou not see my baby at my breast,
That sucks the nurse asleep?


Cleo. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle,— O Antony!-Nay, I will take thee too:

[Applying another asp to her arm. What, should I stay [Falls on a bed, and dies. Char. In this wild world?-So, fare thee well.— Now boast thee, death! in thy possession lies A lass unparallel'd.




WHAT Would you have, you curs,

That like nor peace nor war? the one affrights you,

* Unpolitic, to leave me to myself.


The other makes you proud. He that trusts you,
Where he should find you lions, finds you hares;
Where foxes, geese: You are no surer, no,
Than is the coal of fire upon the ice,

Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is,

To make him worthy, whose offence subdues him,
And curse that justice did it. Who deserves great-
Deserves your hate: and your affections are [ness,
A sick man's appetite, who desires most that
Which would increase his evil. He that depends
Upon your favours, swims with fins of lead,
And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust
With every minute you do change your mind; [ye?
And call him noble, that was now your hate,
Him vile, that was your garland.


Methinks. I hear hither your husband's drum;
See him pluck Aufidius down by the hair;
As children from a bear, the Volces shunning him:
Methinks, I see him stamp thus, and call thus,-
Come on, you cowards, you were got in fear,
Though you were born in Rome: His bloody brow
With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes;
Like to a harvest-man, that's task'd to mow
Or all, or lose his hire.

Vir. His bloody brow! O, Jupiter, no blood! Vol. Away, you fool! it more becomes a man, Than gilt his trophy. The breasts of Hecuba, When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier Than Hector's forehead, when it spit forth blood At Grecian swords contending.

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