Imatges de pÓgina
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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.

Cleo. Farewell.

[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.

Cleo. Take thou no care; it shall be heeded.

Clown. Very good. Give it nothing, I pray you, for it 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 Cæsar, 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!

Cleo.

This proves me base.

If she first meet the curled Antony,

He'll make demand of her; and spend that kiss,

Which is my heaven to have. Come, thou mortal wretch,
[To the asp, which she applies to her breast.

With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate
Of life at once untie; poor venomous fool,
Be angry, and despatch. O, couldst thou speak!
That I might hear thee call great Cæsar, ass
Unpolicied!

Char.

Cleo.

O Eastern star!·

Peace, peace! Dost thou not see my baby at my breast, That sucks the nurse asleep!

What should I stay

Char.
O break! O break!
Cleo. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle,-
O Antony!-Nay, I will take thee too;
[Applying another asp to her arm.
[Falls on a bed and dies.
Char. In this wild world?-So, fare thee well.-
Now boast thee, death! in thy possession lies
A lass unparalleled.-Downy windows, close;
And golden Phoebus never be beheld

Of eyes again so royal! Your crown's awry;
I'll mend it, and then play.

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.

1 Guard. Approach, ho! All's not well; Cæsar's beguiled. 2 Guard. There's Dolabella sent from Cæsar;-call him. 1 Guard. What work is here?- Charmian, is this well

done?

Char. It is well done, and fitting for a princess Descended of so many royal kings.

Ah, soldier!

Dol. How goes it here?

2 Guard.

Dol.

[Dies.

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Enter DOLABELLA.

All dead.

Cæsar, thy thoughts

Touch their effects in this. Thyself art coming
To see performed the dreaded act, which thou
So sought'st to hinder.

Within.

A way there! a way for Cæsar!

Enter CESAR and Attendants.

Dol. O, sir, you are too sure an augurer;

That you did fear, is done.

Cæs.

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.

Dol.

Who was last with them? 1 Guard. A simple countryman, that brought her figs; This was his basket.

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O Cæsar,

This Charmian lived but now; she stood, and spake.
I found her trimming up the diadem

On her dead mistress; tremblingly she stood,
And on the sudden dropped.

O noble weakness!

Cæs.
If they had swallowed poison, 'twould appear
By external swelling; but she looks like sleep,
As she would catch another Antony

In her strong toil of grace.

Dol.

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.

Most probable,

Cas.
That so she died; for her physician tells me,
She hath pursued conclusions infinite

Of easy ways to die.-Take up her bed;
And bear her women from the monument.-
She shall be buried by her Antony:
No grave upon the earth shall clip in it
A pair so famous. High events as these
Strike those that make them; and their story is
No less in pity, than his glory, which

Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall,
In solemn show, attend this funeral;
And then to Rome.-Come, Dolabella, see
High order in this great solemnity.

[Exeunt.

CYMBELINE.

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