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what pain she felt.-Truly, she makes a very good report o' the worm; but he that will believe all that they say, shall never be saved by half that they do. But this is most fallible, the worm's an odd worm.
Cleo. Get thee hence; farewell.
Clown. I wish you all joy of the worm.
[Clown sets down the basket. Clown. You must think this, look you, that the worm will do his kind.
Cleo. Ay, ay; farewell.
Clown. Look you, the worm is not to be trusted, but in the keeping of wise people; for, indeed, there is no goodness in the worm.
Clown. Very good.
Cleo. Take thou no care; it shall be heeded.
is not worth the feeding. Cleo. Will it eat me?
Clown. You must not think I am so simple, but I know the devil himself will not eat a woman; I know that a woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her not. But, truly, these same whoreson devils do the gods great harm in their women; for in every ten that they make, the devils mar five.
Cleo. Well, get thee gone; farewell.
Clown. Yes, forsooth; I wish you joy of the worm. [Exit.
Re-enter IRAS, with a robe, crown, &c.
Cleo. 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, yare, 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 Caesar, 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. [Kisses them. IRAS falls and dies. 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 desired. Dost thou lie still? If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world It is not worth leave-taking.
Char. Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain; that I may say, The gods themselves do weep!
If she first meet the curled
O Eastern star!
This proves me base.
Of eyes again so royal! Your crown's awry;
Enter the Guard, rushing in. 1 Guard. Where's the queen? Char. 1 Guard. Cæsar hath sentChar.
Speak softly, wake her not.
Too slow a messenger. [Applies the asp.
O, come; apace, despatch; I partly feel thee.
Char. It is well done, and fitting for a princess
Dol. How goes it here? 2 Guard.
Cæsar, thy thoughts
Touch their effects in this. Thyself art coming
Dol. O, sir, you are too sure an augurer; That you did fear, is done.
A way there! a way for Cæsar! Enter CESAR and Attendants.
Bravest at the last. She levelled at our purposes, and, being royal, Took her own way. The manner of their deaths? I do not see them bleed.
In her strong toil of grace.
Who was last with them?
1 Guard. A simple countryman, that brought her figs; This was his basket.
This Charmian lived but now; she stood, and spake.
On her dead mistress; tremblingly she stood,
And on the sudden dropped.
Here, on her breast, There is a vent of blood, and something blown. The like is on her arm
1 Guard. This is an aspic's trail; and these fig-leaves Have slime upon them, such as the aspic leaves Upon the caves of Nile.