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Char. Peace, peace, Iras.

Cleo. No more, but e'en a woman; and commanded
By such poor passion as the maid that milks,
And does the meanest chares. It were for me
To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods;
To tell them, that this world did equal theirs,
Till they had stolen our jewel. All's but naught;
Patience is sottish; and impatience does
Become a dog that's mad: Then is it sin,
To rush into the secret house of death,

Ere death dare come to us?-How do you, women?
What, what? good cheer! Why, how now, Charmian?
My noble girls!-Ah, women, women! look,
Our lamp is spent, it's out:-Good sirs, take heart:—
[To the Guard below.
We'll bury him: and then, what's brave, what's noble,
Let's do it after the high Roman fashion,
And make death proud to take us.

Come, away;

This case of that huge spirit now is cold.
Ah, women, women! come; we have no friend
But resolution, and the briefest end.

[Exeunt; those above bearing off Antony's Body.



Cæs. Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield; Being so frustrate, tell him, he mocks us by The pauses that he makes.


Cæsar, I shall.

[Exit Dolabella.

Enter DERCETAS, with the Sword of ANTONY. Cas. Wherefore is that? and what art thou, that dar'st Appear thus to us?


I am call'd Dercetas;

Mark Antony I serv'd, who best was worthy

Best to be serv'd: whilst he stood up, and spoke,
He was my master; and I wore my life,

To spend upon his haters: If thou please
To take me to thee, as I was to him
I'll be to Cæsar; if thou pleasest not,
I yield thee up my life.


What is't thou say'st?

Der. I say, O Cæsar, Antony is dead.

Cas. The breaking of so great a thing should make A greater crack: The round world should have shook Lions into civil streets,

And citizens to their dens:-The death of Antony
Is not a single doom; in the name lay

A moiety of the world.


He is dead, Cæsar;

Not by a public minister of justice,

Nor by a hired knife; but that seif hand,

Which writ his honour in the acts it did,

Hath, with the courage which the heart did lend it,
Splitted the heart.-This is his sword,

I robb'd his wound of it; behold it stain'd

With his most noble blood.


The gods rebuke me, but it is a tidings
To wash the eyes of kings.


Look you sad, friends?

And strange it is,

His taints and honours

A rarer spirit never

That nature must compel us to lament
Our most persisted deeds.

Waged equal with him.


Did steer humanity: but you, gods, will give us
Some faults to make us men. Cæsar is touch'd.

Mec. When such a specious mirror's set before him, He needs must see himself.


O Antony!

I have follow'd thee to this;-But we do lance
Diseases in our bodies: I must perforce
Have shown to thee such a declining day,
Or look on thine; we could not stall together
In the whole world: But yet let me lament,
With tears as sovereign as the blood of hearts,
That thou, my brother, my competitor
In top of all design, my mate in empire,
Friend and companion in the front of war,
The arm of mine own body, and the heart

Where mine his thoughts did kindle,-that our stars,
Unreconcileable, should divide

Our equalness to this.-Hear me, good friends,—
But I will tell you at some meeter season;

Enter a Messenger.

The business of this man looks out of him,
We'll hear him what he says.-Whence are you?
Mess. A poor Egyptian yet. The queen my mistress,
Confin'd in all she has, her monument,

Of thy intents desires instruction;

That she preparedly may frame herself
To the way she's forced to.

She soon shall know of us, by some of ours,
How honourable and how kindly we
Determine for her: for Cæsar cannot live
To be ungentle.

Bid her have good heart;

So the gods preserve thee!


Cas. Come hither, Proculeius; Go, and say,
We purpose her no shame: give her what comforts
The quality of her passion shall require;
Lest, in her greatness, by some mortal stroke
She do defeat us: for her life in Rome
Would be eternal in our triumph: Go,

And, with your speediest, bring us what she says,
And how you find of her.


Cæsar, I shall. [Exit Pro. Cæs. Gallus, go you along.-Where's Dolabella, To second Proculeius?

Agr. Mec.


[Exit Gallus.

Cas. Let him alone, for I remember now
How he's employ'd; he shall in time be ready.
Go with me to my tent; where you shall see
How hardly I was drawn into this war;
How calm and gentle I proceeded still
In all my writings: Go with me, and see
What I can show in this.



ALEXANDRIA. A Room in the Monument.

Cleo. My desolation does begin to make
A better life: "Tis paltry to be Cæsar;
Not being Fortune, he's but Fortune's knave,
A minister of her will: And it is great
To do that thing that ends all other deeds;
Which shackles accidents, and bolts up change;
Which sleeps, and never palates more the dung,
The beggar's nurse and Cæsar's.

Enter, to the Gates of the Monument, PROCULEIUS,
GALLUS, and Soldiers.

Pro. Cæsar sends greeting to the queen of Egypt; And bids thee study on what fair demands

Thou mean'st to have him grant thee.

Pro. My name is Proculeius.

Cleo. [Within]

What's thy name?

Cleo. [Within]


Did tell me of you, bade me trust you; but

I do not greatly care to be deceiv'd,

That have no use for trusting. If your master

Would have a queen his beggar, you must tell him,

That majesty, to keep decorum, must

No less beg than a kingdom: if he please
To give me conquer'd Egypt for my son,
He gives me so much of mine own, as I
Will kneel to him with thanks.

Be of good cheer;
You are fallen into a princely hand, fear nothing:
Make your full reference freely to my lord,
Who is so full of grace, that it flows over
On all that need: Let me report to him
Your sweet dependancy; and you shall find
A conqueror, that will pray in aid for kindness,
Where he for grace is kneel'd to.

Cleo. [Within]

Pray you, tell him I am his fortune's vassal, and I send him

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