The courage of a woman; lefs noble-minded And horrour, that on my command thou then Eros. The Gods with-hold me! Shall I do That, which all the Parthian darts, Ant. Eros, Wouldst thou be window'd in great Rome, and fee To penetrative fhame: whilft the wheel'd feat Eros. I would not fee't. Ant. Come then; for with a wound I must be cur❜d. Draw that thy honeft fword, which thou haft worn Moft ufeful for thy Country. Eros. Oh, Sir, pardon me, Ant. When I did make thee free, fwor'st thou not then To do this when I bad thee? do it at once, Or thy precedent services are all But accidents unpurpos'd. Draw, and come. Eros. Turn from me then that noble countenance, Wherein the worship of the whole world lies. Ant. Lo thee. Eros. My fword is drawn. Ant. Then let it do at once The thing why thou haft drawn it, Eros. My dear Master, [Turning from him. My Captain, and my Emp'ror! Let me fay, Ant. 'Tis faid, man, and farewel. Eros. Thou teacheft me, oh, valiant Eros, what I should, and thou could'ft not; my Queen and Eros A Bridegroom in my death, and run into't [Falling on his word. I learnt of thee. How, not yet dead? not dead? oh, dispatch me. The Guard -ho! Enter Dercetas, and Guard. I Guard. What's the noise? Ant. I've done my work ill, friends: O, make an end of what I have begun. 2 Guard. The ftar is faln. I Guard. And time is at his period! All. Alas, and woe! Ant. Let him, that loves me, ftrike me dead. I Guard. Not I. 2 Guard. Nor I. 3 Guard. Nor any one. [Exeunt. Der. Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers fly. This fword but fhewn to Cafar, with this tidings, Shall enter me with him. Enter Diomedes. Dio. Where's Antony? Der. There, Diomed, there. Dio. Lives he? wilt thou not answer, man? Ant. Art thou there, Diomed? draw thy fword, and give me Sufficing ftrokes for death. X 4 Dis. Dio. Moft abfolute Lord, My Mistress Cleopatra fent me to thee. Ant. When did fhe fend thee? Dio. Now, my Lord. Ant. Where is the? Dio. Lockt in her Monument. She had a prophefying fear Of what hath come to pafs; for when the faw, Ant. Too late, good Diomed; call my Guard, I pr'ythee. Dio. What, ho! the Emperor's Guard. The Guard, what, hoa! Come, your Lord calls. Enter the Guard. Ant. Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra bides, 'Tis the laft fervice that I fhall command you. Guard. Woe are we, Sir! you may not live to wear All your true follow'rs out. All. Moft heavy day! Ant. Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp Fate To grace it with your forrows. Bid That welcome I have led you oft; carry me now, good friends, [Exeunt, bearing Antony. SCENE SCENE changes to a magnificent Monument. Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, and Iras, above. Cleo. H Charmian, I will never go from hence. Cleo. No, I will not: All strange and terrible events are welcome,' Enter Diomedes. How now? is he dead? Dio. His death's upon him, but not dead. Look out o'th' other fide your Monument, His Guard have brought him thither. Enter Antony, borne by the Guard. Cleo. O thou Sun, Burn the great Sphere thou mov'ft in!-darkling ftand Ant. Peace. Not Cæfar's valour hath o'er-thrown Antony, Cleo. So it should be, that none but Antony (55) I here importune Death a while, until Cleo. I dare not, dear, Dear my Lord, pardon; I dare not, Cleo. Leaft I be taken.] What curious hobbling Verfification do we encounter here in the laft Line but one? Befides, how inconfiftenty is the Cleo. I dare not, (Dear, dear my Lord, your pardon, that I dare not;) Left I be taken; not th'imperious fhew Of the full-fortun'd Cæfar ever shall Be brooch'd with me; if knife, drugs, ferpents, have Your Wife Octavia, with her modeft eyes Ant. Oh, quick, or I am gone. my Lord! how heavy weighs Our ftrength is all gone into heaviness, That makes the weight. Had I great Juno's Power, All. O heavy fight! the Lady made to reply? Antony fays, he only holds Life, 'till he can give her one last Kifs: and She cries, She dares not: What dares She not do? Kifs Antony? But how fhould She? She was above lock'd in her Monument; and He below, on the Outfide of it. With a very flight Addition, I think, I can cure the whole; and have a Sort of Warrant from Plutarch for it into the Bargain, 66 66 I here importune Death awhile, until Of many thousand Kiffes the poor laft Cleo. I dare not, (Dear, dear my Lord, your Pardon, that I dare'note;) Now Plutarch fays, that "Antony was carried in his Men's Arms into c." Ant. |