Antony and Cleopatra
William Shakespeare [Collins edition]
Part 3 out of 4
The queen shall then have courtesy, so she
Will yield us up.
He says so.
Let her know't.--
To the boy Caesar send this grizzled head,
And he will fill thy wishes to the brim
That head, my lord?
To him again: tell him he wears the rose
Of youth upon him; from which the world should note
Something particular: his coins, ships, legions,
May be a coward's; whose ministers would prevail
Under the service of a child as soon
As i' the command of Caesar: I dare him therefore
To lay his gay comparisons apart,
And answer me declin'd, sword against sword,
Ourselves alone. I'll write it: follow me.
[Exeunt ANTONY and EUPHRONIUS.]
Yes, like enough high-battled Caesar will
Unstate his happiness, and be stag'd to the show
Against a sworder.--I see men's judgments are
A parcel of their fortunes; and things outward
Do draw the inward quality after them,
To suffer all alike. That he should dream,
Knowing all measures, the full Caesar will
Answer his emptiness!--Caesar, thou hast subdu'd
His judgment too.
[Enter an Attendant.]
A messenger from Caesar.
What, no more ceremony?--See, my women!--
Against the blown rose may they stop their nose
That kneel'd unto the buds.--Admit him, sir.
[Aside.] Mine honesty and I begin to square.
The loyalty well held to fools does make
Our faith mere folly:--yet he that can endure
To follow with allegiance a fallen lord
Does conquer him that did his master conquer,
And earns a place i' the story.
Hear it apart.
None but friends: say boldly.
So, haply, are they friends to Antony.
He needs as many, sir, as Caesar has;
Or needs not us. If Caesar please, our master
Will leap to be his friend: for us, you know
Whose he is we are, and that is Caesar's.
Thus then, thou most renown'd: Caesar entreats
Not to consider in what case thou stand'st
Further than he is Caesar.
Go on: right royal.
He knows that you embrace not Antony
As you did love, but as you fear'd him.
The scars upon your honour, therefore, he
Does pity, as constrained blemishes,
Not as deserv'd.
He is a god, and knows
What is most right: mine honour was not yielded,
But conquer'd merely.
[Aside.] To be sure of that,
I will ask Antony.--Sir, sir, thou art so leaky
That we must leave thee to thy sinking, for
Thy dearest quit thee.
Shall I say to Caesar
What you require of him? for he partly begs
To be desir'd to give. It much would please him
That of his fortunes you should make a staff
To lean upon: but it would warm his spirits
To hear from me you had left Antony,
And put yourself under his shroud, who is
The universal landlord.
What's your name?
My name is Thyreus.
Most kind messenger,
Say to great Caesar this:--in deputation
I kiss his conquring hand: tell him I am prompt
To lay my crown at's feet, and there to kneel:
Tell him, from his all-obeying breath I hear
The doom of Egypt.
'Tis your noblest course.
Wisdom and fortune combating together,
If that the former dare but what it can,
No chance may shake it. Give me grace to lay
My duty on your hand.
Your Caesar's father
Oft, when he hath mus'd of taking kingdoms in,
Bestow'd his lips on that unworthy place,
As it rain'd kisses.
[Re-enter ANTONY and ENOBARBUS.]
Favours, by Jove that thunders!--
What art thou, fellow?
One that but performs
The bidding of the fullest man, and worthiest
To have command obey'd.
[Aside.] You will be whipp'd.
Approach there.--Ah, you kite!--Now, gods and devils!
Authority melts from me: of late, when I cried 'Ho!'
Like boys unto a muss, kings would start forth
And cry 'Your will?' Have you no ears? I am
Take hence this Jack and whip him.
'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp
Than with an old one dying.
Moon and stars!
Whip him.--Were't twenty of the greatest tributaries
That do acknowledge Caesar, should I find them
So saucy with the hand of she here,--what's her name
Since she was Cleopatra?--Whip him, fellows,
Till like a boy you see him cringe his face,
And whine aloud for mercy: take him hence.
Tug him away: being whipp'd,
Bring him again.--This Jack of Caesar's shall
Bear us an errand to him.--
[Exeunt Attendants with THYREUS.]
You were half blasted ere I knew you.--Ha!
Have I my pillow left unpress'd in Rome,
Forborne the getting of a lawful race,
And by a gem of women, to be abus'd
By one that looks on feeders?
Good my lord,--
You have been a boggler ever:--
But when we in our viciousness grow hard,--
O misery on't!--the wise gods seal our eyes;
In our own filth drop our clear judgments: make us
Adore our errors; laugh at's while we strut
To our confusion.
O, is't come to this?
I found you as a morsel cold upon
Dead Caesar's trencher; nay, you were a fragment
Of Cneius Pompey's; besides what hotter hours,
Unregist'red in vulgar fame, you have
Luxuriously pick'd out:--for I am sure,
Though you can guess what temperance should be,
You know not what it is.
Wherefore is this?
To let a fellow that will take rewards,
And say 'God quit you!' be familiar with
My playfellow, your hand; this kingly seal
And plighter of high hearts!--O that I were
Upon the hill of Basan, to outroar
The horned herd! for I have savage cause;
And to proclaim it civilly were like
A halter'd neck which does the hangman thank
For being yare about him.
[Re-enter Attendants with THYREUS.]
Is he whipp'd?
Soundly, my lord.
Cried he? and begg'd he pardon?
He did ask favour.
If that thy father live, let him repent
Thou wast not made his daughter; and be thou sorry
To follow Caesar in his triumph, since
Thou hast been whipp'd for following him: henceforth
The white hand of a lady fever thee,
Shake thou to look on't.--Get thee back to Caesar;
Tell him thy entertainment: look thou say
He makes me angry with him; for he seems
Proud and disdainful, harping on what I am,
Not what he knew I was: he makes me angry;
And at this time most easy 'tis to do't,
When my good stars, that were my former guides,
Have empty left their orbs, and shot their fires
Into the abysm of hell. If he mislike
My speech and what is done, tell him he has
Hipparchus, my enfranched bondman, whom
He may at pleasure, whip, or hang, or torture,
As he shall like, to quit me: urge it thou:
Hence with thy stripes, be gone.
Have you done yet?
Alack, our terrene moon
Is now eclips'd, and it portends alone
The fall of Antony!
I must stay his time.
To flatter Caesar, would you mingle eyes
With one that ties his points?
Not know me yet?
Cold-hearted toward me?
Ah, dear, if I be so,
From my cold heart let heaven engender hail,
And poison it in the source; and the first stone
Drop in my neck: as it determines, so
Dissolve my life! The next Caesarion smite!
Till, by degrees, the memory of my womb,
Together with my brave Egyptians all,
By the discandying of this pelleted storm,
Lie graveless,--till the flies and gnats of Nile
Have buried them for prey!
I am satisfied.
Caesar sits down in Alexandria; where
I will oppose his fate. Our force by land
Hath nobly held: our sever'd navy to
Have knit again, and fleet, threat'ning most sea-like.
Where hast thou been, my heart?--Dost thou hear, lady?
If from the field I shall return once more
To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood:
I and my sword will earn our chronicle:
There's hope in't yet.
That's my brave lord!
I will be treble-sinew'd, hearted, breath'd,
And fight maliciously: for when mine hours
Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives
Of me for jests; but now I'll set my teeth,
And send to darkness all that stop me.--Come,
Let's have one other gaudy night: call to me
All my sad captains; fill our bowls; once more
Let's mock the midnight bell.
It is my birthday.
I had thought t'have held it poor; but since my lord
Is Antony again I will be Cleopatra.
We will yet do well.
Call all his noble captains to my lord.
Do so; we'll speak to them: and to-night I'll force
The wine peep through their scars.--Come on, my queen;
There's sap in't yet. The next time I do fight
I'll make death love me; for I will contend
Even with his pestilent scythe.
[Exeunt all but ENOBARBUS.]
Now he'll outstare the lightning. To be furious
Is to be frighted out of fear; and in that mood
The dove will peck the estridge; and I see still
A diminution in our captain's brain
Restores his heart: when valour preys on reason,
It eats the sword it fights with. I will seek
Some way to leave him.
ACT IV. SCENE I. CAESAR'S Camp at Alexandria.
[Enter CAESAR reading a letter; AGRIPPA, MAECENAS, and others.]
He calls me boy; and chides as he had power
To beat me out of Egypt; my messenger
He hath whip'd with rods; dares me to personal combat,
Caesar to Antony:--let the old ruffian know
I have many other ways to die; meantime
Laugh at his challenge.
Caesar must think
When one so great begins to rage, he's hunted
Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now
Make boot of his distraction:--never anger
Made good guard for itself.
Let our best heads
Know that to-morrow the last of many battles
We mean to fight.--Within our files there are
Of those that serv'd Mark Antony but late,
Enough to fetch him in. See it done:
And feast the army; we have store to do't,
And they have earn'd the waste. Poor Antony!
SCENE II. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.
[Enter ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUS, CHARMIAN, IRAS, ALEXAS, and
He will not fight with me, Domitius?
Why should he not?
He thinks, being twenty times of better fortune,
He is twenty men to one.
By sea and land I'll fight; or I will live,
Or bathe my dying honour in the blood
Shall make it live again. Woo't thou fight well?
I'll strike, and cry 'Take all.'
Well said; come on.--
Call forth my household servants: let's to-night
Be bounteous at our meal.--
Give me thy hand,
Thou has been rightly honest;--so hast thou;--
Thou,--and thou,--and thou;--you have serv'd me well,
And kings have been your fellows.
[Aside to ENOBARBUS.] What means this?
[Aside to CLEOPATRA.] 'Tis one of those odd tricks which sorrow
Out of the mind.
And thou art honest too.
I wish I could be made so many men,
And all of you clapp'd up together in
An Antony, that I might do you service
So good as you have done.
The gods forbid!
Well, my good fellows, wait on me to-night:
Scant not my cups; and make as much of me
As when mine empire was your fellow too,
And suffer'd my command.
[Aside to ENOBARBUS.] What does he mean?
[Aside to CLEOPATRA.] To make his followers weep.
Tend me to-night;
May be it is the period of your duty:
Haply you shall not see me more; or if,
A mangled shadow: perchance to-morrow
You'll serve another master. I look on you
As one that takes his leave. Mine honest friends,
I turn you not away; but, like a master
Married to your good service, stay till death:
Tend me to-night two hours, I ask no more,
And the gods yield you for't!
What mean you, sir,
To give them this discomfort? Look, they weep;
And I, an ass, am onion-ey'd: for shame,
Transform us not to women.
Ho, ho, ho!
Now the witch take me, if I meant it thus!
Grace grow where those drops fall! My hearty friends,
You take me in too dolorous a sense;
For I spake to you for your comfort,--did desire you
To burn this night with torches: know, my hearts,
I hope well of to-morrow; and will lead you
Where rather I'll expect victorious life
Than death and honour. Let's to supper; come,
And drown consideration.
SCENE III. Alexandria. Before the Palace.
[Enter two Soldiers to their guard.]
Brother, good night: to-morrow is the day.
It will determine one way: fare you well.
Heard you of nothing strange about the streets?
Nothing. What news?
Belike 'tis but a rumour. Good night to you.
Well, sir, good night.
[Enter two other Soldiers.]
Soldiers, have careful watch.
And you. Good night, good night.
[The first two place themselves at their posts.]
Here we: [The third and fourth take their posts.] and if
Our navy thrive, I have an absolute hope
Our landmen will stand up.
'Tis a brave army,
And full of purpose.
[Music as of hautboys under the stage.]
Peace, what noise?
Music i' the air.
Under the earth.
It signs well, does it not?
Peace, I say!
What should this mean?
'Tis the god Hercules, whom Antony lov'd,
Now leaves him.
Walk; let's see if other watchmen
Do hear what we do.
[They advance to another post.]
How now, masters!
[Speaking together.] How now!
How now! Do you hear this?
Ay; is't not strange?
Do you hear, masters? do you hear?
Follow the noise so far as we have quarter;
Let's see how it will give off.
[Speaking together.] Content. 'Tis strange.
SCENE IV. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.
[Enter ANTONY and CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and others
Eros! mine armour, Eros!
Sleep a little.
No, my chuck.--Eros! Come, mine armour, Eros!
[Enter EROS with armour.]
Come, good fellow, put mine iron on.--
If fortune be not ours to-day, it is
Because we brave her.--Come.
Nay, I'll help too.
What's this for?
Ah, let be, let be! Thou art
The armourer of my heart. False, false; this, this.
Sooth, la, I'll help: thus it must be.
We shall thrive now.--Seest thou, my good fellow?
Go put on thy defences.
Is not this buckled well?
He that unbuckles this, till we do please
To daff't for our repose, shall hear a storm.--
Thou fumblest, Eros, and my queen's a squire
More tight at this than thou: despatch.--O love,
That thou couldst see my wars to-day, and knew'st
The royal occupation! Thou shouldst see
A workman in't.--
[Enter an Officer, armed.]
Good-morrow to thee; welcome:
Thou look'st like him that knows a warlike charge:
To business that we love we rise betime,
And go to't with delight.
A thousand, sir,
Early though't be, have on their riveted trim,
And at the port expect you.
[Shout. Flourish of trumpets within.]
[Enter other Officers and Soldiers.]
The morn is fair.--Good morrow, general.
Good morrow, general.
'Tis well blown, lads:
This morning, like the spirit of a youth
That means to be of note, begins betimes.--
So, so; come, give me that: this way; well said.--
Fare thee well, dame, whate'er becomes of me:
This is a soldier's kiss: rebukeable,
And worthy shameful check it were, to stand
On more mechanic compliment; I'll leave thee
Now like a man of steel.--You that will fight,
Follow me close; I'll bring you to't. Adieu.
[Exeunt ANTONY, EROS, Officers and Soldiers.]
Please you, retire to your chamber.
He goes forth gallantly. That he and Caesar might
Determine this great war in single fight!
Then, Antony,--but now--Well, on.
SCENE V. ANTONY'S camp near Alexandria.
[Trumpets sound within. Enter ANTONY and EROS; a SOLDIER meeting
The gods make this a happy day to Antony!
Would thou and those thy scars had once prevail'd
To make me fight at land!
Hadst thou done so,
The kings that have revolted, and the soldier
That has this morning left thee, would have still
Follow'd thy heels.
Who's gone this morning?
One ever near thee. Call for Enobarbus,
He shall not hear thee; or from Caesar's camp
Say 'I am none of thine.'
What say'st thou?
He is with Caesar.
Sir, his chests and treasure
He has not with him.
Is he gone?
Go, Eros, send his treasure after; do it;
Detain no jot, I charge thee; write to him--
I will subscribe,--gentle adieus and greetings;
Say that I wish he never find more cause
To change a master.--O, my fortunes have
Corrupted honest men!--Eros, despatch.
SCENE VI. Alexandria. CAESAR'S camp.
[Flourish. Enter AGRIPPA, CAESAR, with DOLABELLA and ENOBARBUS.]
Go forth, Agrippa, and begin the fight:
Our will is Antony be took alive;
Make it so known.
Caesar, I shall.
The time of universal peace is near:
Prove this a prosperous day, the three-nook'd world
Shall bear the olive freely.
[Enter a Messenger.]
Is come into the field.
Go charge Agrippa
Plant those that have revolted in the van,
That Antony may seem to spend his fury
[Exeunt CAESAR and his Train.]
Alexas did revolt; and went to Jewry on
Affairs of Antony; there did dissuade
Great Herod to incline himself to Caesar
And leave his master Antony: for this pains
Casaer hath hang'd him. Canidius and the rest
That fell away, have entertainment, but
No honourable trust. I have done ill;
Of which I do accuse myself so sorely
That I will joy no more.
[Enter a SOLDIER of CAESAR'S.]
Hath after thee sent all thy treasure, with
His bounty overplus: the messenger
Came on my guard, and at thy tent is now
Unloading of his mules.
I give it you.
Mock not, Enobarbus.
I tell you true: best you saf'd the bringer
Out of the host; I must attend mine office,
Or would have done't myself. Your emperor
Continues still a Jove.
I am alone the villain of the earth,
And feel I am so most. O Antony,
Thou mine of bounty, how wouldst thou have paid
My better service, when my turpitude
Thou dost so crown with gold! This blows my heart:
If swift thought break it not, a swifter mean
Shall outstrike thought: but thought will do't, I feel.
I fight against thee!--No: I will go seek
Some ditch wherein to die; the foul'st best fits
My latter part of life.
SCENE VII. Field of battle between the Camps.
[Alarum. Drums and trumpets. Enter AGRIPPA and others.]
Retire, we have engag'd ourselves too far:
Caesar himself has work, and our oppression
Exceeds what we expected.
[Alarum. Enter ANTONY, and SCARUS wounded.]
O my brave emperor, this is fought indeed!
Had we done so at first, we had driven them home
With clouts about their heads.
Thou bleed'st apace.
I had a wound here that was like a T,
But now 'tis made an H.
They do retire.
We'll beat'em into bench-holes: I have yet
Room for six scotches more.
They are beaten, sir; and our advantage serves
For a fair victory.
Let us score their backs
And snatch 'em up, as we take hares, behind:
'Tis sport to maul a runner.
I will reward thee
Once for thy sprightly comfort, and tenfold
For thy good valour. Come thee on.
I'll halt after.
SCENE VIII. Under the Walls of Alexandria.
[Alarum. Enter ANTONY, marching; SCARUS and Forces.]
We have beat him to his camp. Run one before
And let the queen know of our gests.--To-morrow,
Before the sun shall see us, we'll spill the blood
That has to-day escap'd. I thank you all;
For doughty-handed are you, and have fought
Not as you serv'd the cause, but as't had been
Each man's like mine; you have shown all Hectors.
Enter the city, clip your wives, your friends,
Tell them your feats; whilst they with joyful tears
Wash the congealment from your wounds and kiss
The honour'd gashes whole.--[To SCARUS.] Give me thy hand;
[Enter CLEOPATRA, attended.]
To this great fairy I'll commend thy acts,
Make her thanks bless thee. O thou day o' the world,
Chain mine arm'd neck; leap thou, attire and all;
Through proof of harness to my heart, and there
Ride on the pants triumphing.
Lord of lords!
O infinite virtue, com'st thou smiling from
The world's great snare uncaught?
We have beat them to their beds. What, girl! though grey
Do something mingle with our younger brown, yet ha' we
A brain that nourishes our nerves, and can
Get goal for goal of youth. Behold this man;
Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand;--
Kiss it, my warrior: he hath fought to-day
As if a god, in hate of mankind, had
Destroyed in such a shape.
I'll give thee, friend,
An armour all of gold; it was a king's.
He has deserv'd it, were it carbuncled
Like holy Phoebus' car.--Give me thy hand:
Through Alexandria make a jolly march;
Bear our hack'd targets like the men that owe them:
Had our great palace the capacity
To camp this host, we all would sup together,
And drink carouses to the next day's fate,
Which promises royal peril.--Trumpeters,
With brazen din blast you the city's ear;
Make mingle with our rattling tabourines;
That heaven and earth may strike their sounds together,
Applauding our approach.
SCENE IX. CAESAR'S camp.
[Sentinels at their Post.]
If we be not reliev'd within this hour,
We must return to thecourt of guard: the night
Is shiny; and they say we shall embattle
By the second hour i' the morn.
This last day was
A shrewd one to's.
O, bear me witness, night.--
What man is this?
Stand close and list him.
Be witness to me, O thou blessed moon,
When men revolted shall upon record
Bear hateful memory, poor Enobarbus did
Before thy face repent!--
O sovereign mistress of true melancholy,
The poisonous damp of night disponge upon me,
That life, a very rebel to my will,
May hang no longer on me: throw my heart
Against the flint and hardness of my fault;
Which, being dried with grief, will break to powder,
And finish all foul thoughts. O Antony,
Nobler than my revolt is infamous,
Forgive me in thine own particular;
But let the world rank me in register
A master-leaver and a fugitive:
O Antony! O Antony!
Let's speak to him.
Let's hear him, for the things he speaks
May concern Caesar.
Let's do so. But he sleeps.
Swoons rather; for so bad a prayer as his
Was never yet fore sleep.
Go we to him.
Awake, sir, awake; speak to us.
Hear you, sir?
The hand of death hath raught him.
[Drums afar off.]
Hark! the drums
Do merrily wake the sleepers. Let us bear him
To the court of guard; he is of note: our hour
Is fully out.
Come on, then;
He may recover yet.
[Exeunt with the body.]
SCENE X. Ground between the two Camps.
[Enter ANTONY and SCARUS, with Forces, marching.]
Their preparation is to-day by sea;
We please them not by land.
For both, my lord.
I would they'd fight i' the fire or i' the air;
We'd fight there too. But this it is; our foot
Upon the hills adjoining to the city
Shall stay with us:--order for sea is given;
They have put forth the haven:--forward now,
Where their appointment we may best discover,
And look on their endeavour.
SCENE XI. Another part of the Ground.
[Enter CAESAR with his Forces, marching.]
But being charg'd, we will be still by land,
Which, as I take't, we shall; for his best force
Is forth to man his galleys. To the vales,
And hold our best advantage.
SCENE XII. Another part of the Ground.
[Enter ANTONY and SCARUS.]
Yet they are not join'd: where yond pine does stand
I shall discover all: I'll bring thee word
Straight how 'tis like to go.
Swallows have built
In Cleopatra's sails their nests: the augurers
Say they know not,--they cannot tell;--look grimly,
And dare not speak their knowledge. Antony
Is valiant and dejected; and, by starts,
His fretted fortunes give him hope and fear
Of what he has and has not.
[Alarum afar off, as at a sea-fight.]
All is lost;
This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me:
My fleet hath yielded to the foe; and yonder
They cast their caps up, and carouse together
Like friends long lost.--Triple-turn'd whore! 'tis thou
Hast sold me to this novice; and my heart
Makes only wars on thee.--Bid them all fly;
For when I am reveng'd upon my charm,
I have done all.--Bid them all fly; begone.
O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more:
Fortune and Antony part here; even here
Do we shake hands.--All come to this!--The hearts
That spaniel'd me at heels, to whom I gave
Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets
On blossoming Caesar; and this pine is bark'd
That overtopp'd them all. Betray'd I am:
O this false soul of Egypt! this grave charm,
Whose eye beck'd forth my wars and call'd them home;
Whose bosom was my crownet, my chief end,--
Like a right gypsy, hath, at fast and loose,
Beguil'd me to the very heart of loss.--
What, Eros, Eros!
Ah, thou spell! Avaunt!
Why is my lord enrag'd against his love?
Vanish, or I shall give thee thy deserving,
And blemish Caesar's triumph. Let him take thee
And hoist thee up to the shouting plebeians:
Follow his chariot, like the greatest spot
Of all thy sex; most monster-like, be shown
For poor'st diminutives, for doits; and let
Patient Octavia plough thy visage up
With her prepared nails.
'Tis well thou'rt gone,
If it be well to live; but better 'twere
Thou fell'st into my fury, for one death
Might have prevented many.--Eros, ho!--
The shirt of Nessus is upon me: teach me,
Alcides, thou mine ancestor, thy rage:
Let me lodge Lichas on the horns o' the moon;
And with those hands that grasp'd the heaviest club
Subdue my worthiest self. The witch shall die:
To the young Roman boy she hath sold me, and I fall
Under this plot:--she dies for't.--Eros, ho!
SCENE XIII. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.
[Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN.]
Help me, my women! O, he is more mad
Than Telamon for his shield; the boar of Thessaly
Was never so emboss'd.
To the monument!
There lock yourself, and send him word you are dead.
The soul and body rive not more in parting
Than greatness going off.
To the monument!--
Mardian, go tell him I have slain myself;
Say that the last I spoke was 'Antony',
And word it, pr'ythee, piteously: hence, Mardian;
And bring me how he takes my death.--
To the monument!
SCENE XIV. Alexandria. Another Room.
[Enter ANTONY and EROS.]
Eros, thou yet behold'st me?
Ay, noble lord.
Sometime we see a cloud that's dragonish;
A vapour sometime like a bear or lion,
A tower'd citadel, a pendant rock,
A forked mountain, or blue promontory
With trees upon't, that nod unto the world,
And mock our eyes with air: thou hast seen these signs;
They are black vesper's pageants.
Ay, my lord.
That which is now a horse, even with a thought
The rack dislimns; and makes it indistinct,
As water is in water.
It does, my lord.
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, whilst it was mine, had annex'd unto't
A million moe, now lost,--she, Eros, has
Pack'd cards with Caesar, and false-play'd my glory
Unto an enemy's triumph.--
Nay, weep not, gentle Eros; there is left us
Ourselves to end ourselves.--
O, thy vile lady!
She has robb'd me of my sword.
My mistress lov'd thee, and her fortunes mingled
With thine entirely.
Hence, saucy eunuch; peace!
She hath betray'd me, and shall die the death.
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.
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.
Off, pluck off;--
The sevenfold 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 awhile.--
I will o'ertake thee, Cleopatra, and
Weep for my pardon. So it must be, for now
All length is torture.--Since the torch is out,
Lie down, and stray no further:--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:
Dido and her Aeneas shall want troops,
And all the haunt be ours.--Come, Eros, Eros!
What would my lord?
Since Cleopatra died,
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 Caesar 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 wouldst kill me: do't; the time is come:
Thou strik'st not me; 'tis Caesar thou defeat'st.
Put colour in thy cheek.
The gods withhold me!
Shall I do that which all the Parthian darts,
Though enemy, lost aim and could not?
Wouldst thou be window'd in great Rome and see
Thy master thus with pleach'd arms, bending down
His corrigible neck, his face subdu'd
To penetrative shame; whilst the wheel'd seat
Of fortunate Caesar, drawn before him, branded
His baseness that ensued?
I would not see't.
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.
O, sir, pardon me!
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.
Turn from me then that noble countenance,
Wherein the worship of the whole world lies.
[Turning from him.]
My sword is drawn.
Then let it do at once
The thing why thou hast drawn it.
My dear master,
My captain and my emperor, let me say,
Before I strike this bloody stroke, farewell.
'Tis said, man;--and farewell.
Farewell, great chief. Shall I strike now?
Why, there then [falls on his sword]!--thus do I escape the
Of Antony's death.
Thrice nobler than myself!
Thou teachest me, O valiant Eros, what
I should, and thou couldst 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
[Falling on his sword.]
I learn'd of thee. How? not dead? not dead?--
The guard, ho!--O, despatch me!
[Enter DERCETAS and a guard.]
What's the noise?
I have done my work ill, friends: O, make an end
Of what I have begun.
The star is fallen.
And time is at his period.
Alas, and woe!
Let him that loves me, strike me dead.
Nor any one.
Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers fly.
This sword but shown to Caesar, with this tidings,
Shall enter me with him.
There, Diomed, there.
Wilt thou not answer, man?
Art thou there, Diomed? Draw thy sword and give me
Sufficing strokes for death.
Most absolute lord,
My mistress Cleopatra sent me to thee.
When did she send thee?
Now, my lord.
Where is she?
Lock'd in her monument. She had a prophesying fear
Of what hath come to pass: for when she saw,--
Which never shall be found,--you did suspect
She had dispos'd with Caesar, 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.
Too late, good Diomed.--Call my guard, I pr'ythee.
What, ho! the emperor's guard! The guard, what ho!
Come, your lord calls!
[Enter some of the Guard.]
Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra bides;
'Tis the last service that I shall command you.
Woe, woe are we, sir, you may not live to wear
All your true followers out.
Most heavy day!
Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp fate
To grace it with your sorrows: bid that welcome
Which comes to punish us, and we punish it,
Seeming to bear it lightly. Take me up:
I have led you oft: carry me now, good friends,
And have my thanks for all.
[Exeunt, bearing ANTONY.]
SCENE XV. Alexandria. A monument.
[Enter, above, CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN and IRAS.]
O Charmian, I will never go from hence!
Be comforted, dear madam.
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
As that which makes it.--
[Enter, below, DIOMEDES.]
How now! is he dead?
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.]
Burn the great sphere thou mov'st in!--darkling stand
The varying shore o' theworld.--O Antony,
Antony, Antony!--Help, Charmian; help, Iras, help,--
Help, friends below;--let's draw him hither.
Not Caesar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony,
But Antony's hath triumph'd on itself.
So it should be, that none but Antony
Should conquer Antony; but woe 'tis so!
I am dying, Egypt, dying; only
I here importune death awhile, until
Of many thousand kisses the poor last
I lay upon thy lips.
I dare not, dear,--
Dear my lord, pardon,--I dare not,
Lest I be taken: not the imperious show
Of the full-fortun'd Caesar ever shall
Be brooch'd with me; if knife, drugs, serpents, have
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;
Assist, good friends.
O, quick, or I am gone.
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,
And set thee by Jove's side. Yet come a little,--
Wishers were ever fools,--O 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.
A heavy sight!
I am dying, Egypt, dying:
Give me some wine, and let me speak a little.
No, let me speak; and let me rail so high
That the false huswife Fortune break her wheel,
Provok'd by my offence.
One word, sweet queen:
Of Caesar seek your honour, with your safety.--O!
They do not go together.
Gentle, hear me:
None about Caesar trust but Proculeius.
My resolution and my hands I'll trust;
None about Caesar.
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,
Not 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.
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 sty?--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
Are level now with men: the odds is gone,
And there is nothing left remarkable
Beneath the visiting moon.
O, quietness, lady!
She is dead too, our sovereign.
O madam, madam, madam!--
Royal Egypt, Empress,--
Peace, peace, Iras!
No more but e'en a woman, and commanded
By such poor passion as the maid that milks
And does the meanest chares.--It were for me
To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods;
To tell them that this world did equal theirs
Till they had stol'n 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, Charmian!
My noble girls!--Ah, women, women, look,
Our lamp is spent, it's out!--Good sirs, take heart:--
We'll bury him; and then, what's brave, what's 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.]
SCENE I. CAESAR'S Camp before Alexandria.
[Enter CAESAR, AGRIPPA, DOLABELLA, MAECENAS, GALLUS, PROCULEIUS,
Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield;
Being so frustrate, tell him he mocks
The pauses that he makes.
Caesar, I shall.
[Enter DERCETAS with the sword of ANTONY.]
Wherefore is that? And what art thou that dar'st
Appear thus to us?
I am call'd Dercetas;
Mark Antony I serv'd, who best was worthy
Best to be serv'd: whilst he stood up and spoke,
He was my master, and I wore my life
To spend upon his haters. If thou please
To take me to thee, as I was to him
I'll be to Caesar; if thou pleasest not,
I yield thee up my life.
What is't thou say'st?
I say, O Caesar, Antony is dead.
The breaking of so great a thing should make
A greater crack: the round world
Should have shook 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.
He is dead, Caesar;
Not by a public minister of justice,
Nor by a hired knife; but that self hand
Which writ his honour in the acts it did
Hath, with the courage which the heart did lend it,
Splitted the heart.--This is his sword;
I robb'd his wound of it; behold it stain'd
With his most noble blood.
Look you sad, friends?
The gods rebuke me, but it is tidings
To wash the eyes of kings.
And strange it is
That nature must compel us to lament
Our most persisted deeds.
His taints and honours
Weigh'd equal with him.
A rarer spirit never
Did steer humanity. But you, gods, will give us
Some faults to make us men. Caesar is touch'd.
When such a spacious mirror's set before him,
He needs must see himself.
I have follow'd thee to this!--But we do lance
Diseases in our bodies: I must perforce
Have shown to thee such a declining day
Or look on thine; we could not stall together
In the whole world: but yet let me lament,
With tears as sovereign as the blood of hearts,
That thou, my brother, my competitor
In top of all design, my mate in empire,
Friend and companion in the front of war,
The arm of mine own body, and the heart
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?
A poor Egyptian yet. The queen, my mistress,
Confin'd in all she has, her monument,
Of thy intents desires instruction,
That she preparedly may frame herself
To the way she's forc'd to.
Bid her have good heart:
She soon shall know of us, by some of ours,
How honourable and how kindly we
Determine for her; for Caesar cannot learn
To be ungentle.
So the gods preserve thee!
Come hither, Proculeius. Go and say
We purpose her no shame: give her what comforts
The quality of her passion shall require
Lest, in her greatness, by some mortal stroke
She do defeat us; for her life in Rome
Would be eternal in our triumph: go,
And with your speediest bring us what she says,
And how you find her.
Caesar, I shall.
Gallus, go you along.--
Where's Dolabella, to second Proculeius?
Let him alone, for I remember now
How he's employ'd; he shall in time be ready.
Go with me to my tent; where you shall see
How hardly I was drawn into this war;
How calm and gentle I proceeded still
In all my writings: go with me, and see
What I can show in this.
SCENE II. Alexandria. A Room in the Monument.
[Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, and IRAS.]
My desolation does begin to make
A better life. 'Tis paltry to be Caesar;
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 dug,
The beggar's nurse and Caesar's.
[Enter, to the gates of the Monument, PROCULEIUS, GALLUS, and
Caesar sends greetings to the queen of Egypt;
And bids thee study on what fair demands
Thou mean'st to have him grant thee.
What's thy name?
My name is Proculeius.
Did tell me of you, bade me trust you; but
I do not greatly care to be deceiv'd,
That have no use for trusting. If your master
Would have a queen his beggar, you must tell him
That majesty, to keep decorum, must
No less beg than a kingdom: if he please
To give me conquer'd Egypt for my son,
He gives me so much of mine own as I
Will kneel to him with thanks.
Be of good cheer;
You are fallen into a princely hand; fear nothing:
Make your full reference freely to my lord,
Who is so full of grace that it flows over
On all that need: let me report to him
Your sweet dependency; and you shall find
A conqueror that will pray in aid for kindness
Where he for grace is kneel'd to.
Pray you, tell him
I am his fortune's vassal and I send him
The greatness he has got. I hourly learn
A doctrine of obedience; and would gladly
Look him i' the face.
This I'll report, dear lady.
Have comfort, for I know your plight is pitied
Of him that caus'd it.
You see how easily she may be surpris'd:
[Here PROCULEIUS and two of the Guard ascend the Monument by a
ladder placed against a window, and, having ascended, come behind
CLEOPATRA. Some of the Guard unbar and open the gates.]
[To PROCULEIUS. and the Guear.] Guard her till Caesar come.
O Cleopatra! thou art taken, queen!
Quick, quick, good hands.
[Drawing a dagger.]
Hold, worthy lady, hold;
[Seizes and disarms her.]
Do not yourself such wrong, who are in this
Reliev'd, but not betray'd.
What, of death too,
That rids our dogs of languish?
Do not abuse my master's bounty by
Theundoing of yourself: let the world see
His nobleness well acted, which your death
Will never let come forth.
Where art thou, death?
Come hither, come! Come, come, and take a queen
Worth many babes and beggars!
O, temperance, lady!
Sir, I will eat no meat; I'll not drink, sir;
If idle talk will once be accessary,
I'll not sleep neither: this mortal house I'll ruin,
Do Caesar what he can. Know, sir, that I
Will not wait pinion'd at your master's court;
Nor once be chastis'd with the sober eye
Of dull Octavia. Shall they hoist me up,
And show me to the shouting varletry
Of censuring Rome? Rather a ditch in Egypt
Be gentle grave unto me! rather on Nilus' mud
Lay me stark-nak'd, and let the water-flies
Blow me into abhorring! rather make
My country's high pyramides my gibbet,
And hang me up in chains!
You do extend
These thoughts of horror further than you shall
Find cause in Caesar.
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