Ant. I am dying Egypt, dying; onely I heere importune death a-while, vntill Of many thousand kisses, the poore last I lay vpon thy lippes
Cleo. I dare not Deere, Deere my Lord pardon: I dare not, Least I be taken: nor th' Imperious shew Of the full-Fortun'd Caesar, euer shall Be brooch'd with me, if Knife, Drugges, Serpents haue Edge, sting, or operation. I am safe: Your Wife Octauia, with her modest eyes, And still Conclusion, shall acquire no Honour Demuring vpon me: but come, come Anthony, Helpe me my women, we must draw thee vp: Assist good Friends
Ant. Oh quicke, or I am gone
Cleo. Heere's sport indeede: How heauy weighes my Lord? Our strength is all gone into heauinesse, That makes the waight. Had I great Iuno's power, The strong wing'd Mercury should fetch thee vp, And set thee by Ioues side. Yet come a little, Wishers were euer Fooles. Oh come, come, come,
They heaue Anthony aloft to Cleopatra.
And welcome, welcome. Dye when thou hast liu'd, Quicken with kissing: had my lippes that power, Thus would I weare them out
All. A heauy sight
Ant. I am dying Egypt, dying. Giue me some Wine, and let me speake a little
Cleo. No, let me speake, and let me rayle so hye, That the false Huswife Fortune, breake her Wheele, Prouok'd by my offence
Ant. One word (sweet Queene) Of Caesar seeke your Honour, with your safety. Oh
Cleo. They do not go together
Ant. Gentle heare me, None about Caesar trust, but Proculeius
Cleo. My Resolution, and my hands, Ile trust, None about Caesar
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 liued. The greatest Prince o'th' world, The Noblest: and do now not basely dye, Not Cowardly put off my Helmet to My Countreyman. A Roman, by a Roman Valiantly vanquish'd. Now my Spirit is going, I can no more
Cleo. Noblest of men, woo't dye? Hast thou no care of me, shall I abide In this dull world, which in thy absence is No better then a Stye? Oh see my women: The Crowne o'th' earth doth melt. My Lord? Oh wither'd is the Garland of the Warre, The Souldiers pole is falne: young Boyes and Gyrles Are leuell now with men: The oddes is gone, And there is nothing left remarkeable Beneath the visiting Moone
Char. Oh quietnesse, Lady
Iras. She's dead too, our Soueraigne
Char. Oh Madam, Madam, Madam
Iras. Royall Egypt: Empresse
Char. Peace, peace, Iras
Cleo. No more but in a Woman, and commanded By such poore passion, as the Maid that Milkes, And doe's the meanest chares. It were for me, To throw my Scepter at the iniurious Gods, To tell them that this World did equall theyrs, Till they had stolne our Iewell. All's but naught: Patience is sortish, and impatience does Become a Dogge that's mad: Then is it sinne, To rush into the secret house of death, Ere death dare come to vs. How do you Women? What, what good cheere? Why how now Charmian? My Noble Gyrles? Ah Women, women! Looke Our Lampe is spent, it's out. Good sirs, take heart, Wee'l bury him: And then, what's braue, what's Noble, Let's doo't after the high Roman fashion, And make death proud to take vs. Come, away, This case of that huge Spirit now is cold. Ah Women, Women! Come, we haue no Friend But Resolution, and the breefest end.
Exeunt., bearing of Anthonies body.
Enter Caesar, Agrippa, Dollabella, Menas, with his Counsell of Warre.
Caesar. Go to him Dollabella, bid him yeeld, Being so frustrate, tell him, He mockes the pawses that he makes