Imatges de pàgina
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What should I ftay

Char. In this wild world? fo, fare thee well:
Now boaft thee, Death, in thy poffeffion lies
A lafs unparallel'd..

Downy windows, close;

And golden Phoebus never be beheld

Of eyes again fo royal! your Crown's awry
I'll mend it, and then play

Enter the Guard, rushing in.

1 Guard. Where's the Queen? Char. Speak foftly, wake her not. I Guard. Cæfar hath fent.

{Dies.

[Charmian applies the afp.

Char. Too flow a meffenger.

Oh, come apace, difpatch, I partly feel thee. 1 Guard. Approach, ho! all's not well. Cæfar's beguil'd.

2 Guard. There's Dolabella fent from Cefar; call him. I Guard. What work is here, Charmian? is this well done?

Char. It is well done, and fitting for a Princess Defcended of fo many royal Kings.

Ah, foldiers!

[Charmian dies.

Enter Dolabella.

Dol. How goes it here?

2 Guard. All dead!

Dol. Cæfar, thy thoughts

Touch their effects in this; thy felf art coming
To fee perform'd the dreaded act, which thou
So fought'ft to hinder.

patra admota Afpide & Mamillæ & Brachio fibi Mortem confciuit Had Shakespeare invented the Circumftance, Poetic Licence, and the Delicacy of his Imagery, had been a fufficient Plea: but we find him. true to Authority, as well as to himself, in turning an occafional Hint into an unexpected Beauty.

Do'st thou not fee my Baby at my Breaft,

That fucks the Nurse asleep?

For this has a double Elegance; not only as it prefents us with an amiable Picture, but as it expreffes too the benumning Effects of the Afp ftealing faft upon her.

Enter

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Enter Cæfar and Attendantsnoth vid 65

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All Make way there, make way for Cæsar
Dol. Oh, Sir, you are too fure an augurer
That you, did fear, is done. head Throwd

Caf. Braveft at laft:

She levell'd at our purpofe, and, being royal,

Took her own way. The manner of their deaths?
I do not fee them bleed.

Dol. Who was laft with them?

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1 Guard. A fimple countryman,that brought her figs : This was his basket.

Caf. Poifon'd then!

I Gent. Oh Cafar!

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This Charmian liv'd but now, the ftood and fpake:1I found her trimming up the diadem

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On her dead miftrefs; tremblingly the ftood,
And on the fudden dropt. gros ad os
Caf. Oh noble weakness!

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If they had fwallow'd poifon, 'twould appear
By external fwelling; but the looks like Sleep; (73)

(73)

·But fhe looks like Sleep.]

As

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The Poet has made Cleopatra herself, above, speaking of the Operation of the Afpick, give us this fine Image;

Do'ft Thou not fee my Baby at my Breaft,
That fucks the Nurse afleep?

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And in this Description he is precifely just to Hiftory. Lucius Florus, lib. iv. c. 11. (and Fornandes literally from him) fpeaks of her Diffolution, as of a Falling into a Slumber. Admotifq; ad Venas ferpentibus, fic morte, quafi fomno, foluta eft. And Solinus, defcribing the different forts of Afpicks, fays, Two particularly were employ'd to give Death; that call'd Dipfas, which kill'd by exceffive Thirit; and the Hypnale, which deftroys by Sleep, of which Cleopatra is a Teftimony. And to this eafy Method of her dying, Propertius has likewise alluded;

Brachia fpectavi facris admorfa Colubris,

Lib. iii. Eleg. 10.

Et trabere occultum Membra foporis iter. Lucan, in the IXth Book of his Pharfalia, where he expatiates on the Multitude and Diverfity of African ferpents, remembers, among the reft, the ftupifying Quality of the Afpick;

Afpida fomniferum tumidâ cervice levavit.

and defcribes one bit by it, who confefs'd no Pain, but dy'd inftantly, as of a Lethargy.

nulloque

As the would catch another Antony

In her ftrong toil of

grace.

Dol. Here, on her breaft,

There is a vent of blood, and fomething blown:
The like is on her arm.

I Guard. This is an afpick's trail;

And these fig-leaves have flime upon them, fuch
As th' afpick leaves upon the caves of Nyle.
Caf. Moft probable,

That fo fhe died; for her phyfician tells me,
She hath purfu'd conclufions infinite

Of eafie ways to die. Take up her bed,
And bear her women from the Monument :
She fhall be buried by her Antony.

No Grave upon the earth fhall clip in it
A Pair fo famous. High events as these
Strike those that make them; and their story is
No lefs in pity, than his glory, which
Brought them to be lamented. Our army fhall,
In folemn fhew, attend this funeral;
And then to Rome: come, Dolabella, fee
High Order in this great Solemnity. [Exeunt Omnes,
nulloque dolore

Teftatus morfus, fubitam caligine mortem

Accipis, & Stygias fomno defcendis ad Umbras.

Ovid likewife mentions this hypnotick Quality of the Afpic, and calls it the foreign Serpent.

Plenaque fomniferis ferpens peregrina Venenis.

VOL. VI.

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