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Ant. Sometime we see a cloud that's dragonish ; A vapour, sometime, like a bear, or lion, A tower'd citadel, a pendant rock, A forked mountain, or blue promontory With trees upon't, that nod unto the world, And mock our eyes with air. Thou'st seen these

They are black Vesper's pageants.

Eros. Ay, my Lord.
Ant. That, which is now a horse, even with a

The Rack diflimns, and makes it indiftinct
As water is in water.

Eros. It do's, my Lord.

Ant. My good knave, Eros, now thy Captain is
Even such a body; here I'm Antony,
Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave.
I made these wars for Egypt; and the Queen,
Whose heart, I thought, I had, (for she had mine;
Which, whilst it was mine, had annext unto't
A million more, now lost !) she, Eros, has
Packt cards with Cæsar, and false play'd my Glory
Unto an enemy's triumph
Nay, weep not, gentle Eros, there is left us
Ourselves to end ourselves.

Enter Mardian.
Oh, thy vile Lady!
Sh' has robb'd me of my

Mar. No, Antony !
My Mistress lov'd thee, and her fortunes mingled
With thine entirely.
Ant. Hence, saucy Eunuch, peace, she hath be-

tray'd me, And she shall die the death.

Mar. Death of one person can be paid but onee, And that she has discharg'd. What thou would't do, Is done unto thy hand; the last she spake


Was, Antony ! most noble Antony !
Then in the midst a tearing Groan did break
The name of Antony; it was divided
Between her heart and lips; she render'd life,
Thy name so buried in her.

Ant. Dead then!
Mar. Dead.

Ant. Unarm me, Eros, the long day's talk is done;
And we must sleep; that thou depari'st hence safe,
Does pay thy labour richly : go. [Exit Mardian.
Off, pluck off;
The seven-fold shield of Ajax cannot keep
The battery from my heart. O cleave, my fides,
Heart, once be stronger than thy continent,
Crack thy frail case! apace, Eros, ápace.
No more a Soldier-

-bruised pieces, go :

(Unarming himself. You have been nobly borne ;—from me a while

(Exit Eros. I will o'ertake thee, Cleopatra, and Weep for my pardon. So't must be, for now All length is torture ; since the torch is out, Lie down and stray no further. Now all labour Mars what it does, yea, very force entangles Itself with strength ; seal then, and all is done. 'Eros !-I come, my Queen-Eros !--stay for me, Where fouls do couch on flowers, we'll hand in

hand, And with our sprightly port make the Ghosts gaze; * Dido and her Sichæus shall want troops, And all the haunt be ours.--Come, Eros, Eros!

Enter Eros. Eros. What would


Lord ? * Dido and her AEneas Mail want troops,] But Dido's Fondness did not reach to the other World : She then despised AEneas, and return'd to her old Affe&tion for Sichaus. I should think, therefore, that the Poet wrote, Dido and her Sichæus.



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Ant. Since Cleopatra died,
I've liv'd in such dishonour, that the Gods
Detest my baseness. I, that with my sword
Quarter'd the world, and o'er green Neptune's back,
With ships, made cities; condemn myself, to lack
The courage of a woman; less noble minded
Than she, which, by her death, our Cæfar tells,
I'm conqueror of myself. Thou art sworn, Eros,
That when the exigent should come, which now
Is come indeed, when I should see behind me
Th’ inevitable prosecution of disgrace
And horror, that on my command thou then
Would'st kill me. Do it, for the time is come :
Thou strik'st not me, 'tis Cæfar thou defeat'st.
Put colour in thy cheek.

Eros The Gods with-hold me!
Shall I do That, which all the Parthian darts,
Though enemy, loft aim, and could not?

Ant. Eros,
Would'st thou be window'd in great Rome, and see
Thy master thus with pleacht arms, bending down
His corrigible neck, his face subdu'd
To penetrative shame : whilst the wheel'd feat
Of fortunate Cæfar, drawn before him, branded
His baseness that ensued ?

Eros. I would not see't.

Ant. Come thien; for with a wound I must be cur'd.
Draw that thy honeft sword, which thou hast worn
Most useful for thy Country.

Eros. Oh, Sir, pardon me.
Ant. When I did make thee free, swor'st thou not

To do this when I bade 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.

[Turning from him. Vol. VIII.



Eros. My sword is drawn.

Ant. Then let it do at once
The thing why thou hast drawn it.

Eros. My dear Master,
My Captain, and my Emp'ror ! Let me say,
Before I ftrike this bloody ftroke, farewel.

Ant. 'Tis said, man, and farewel.
Eros. Farewel, great Chief.

Shall I ftrike now? Ant. Now, Eros.

Eros. Why, there then [Eros kills himself. Thus do I escape the sorrow Of Antony's death.

[Dies. Ant. Thrice nobler than myself! Thou teacheft me, oh, valiant Eros, what I should, and thou could'st not; my Queen and Eros Have by their brave instruction got upon me A Nobleness in Record. But I will be A Bridegroom in my death, and run into't As to a Lover's bed. Come then; and, Eros, Thy Master dies thy Scholar; to do thus

Falling on his sword. I learnt of thee. How, not yet dead ? not dead ?The guard-ho!--oh, dispatch me.

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WHAT's the noise?

i Guard.

HA T's the noise ?

Ant. I've done my work ill, friends 0, make an end of what I have begun.

2 Guard. The ftar is fallin.
1 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.
Guard. Nor any one.



Der. Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers fly. This sword but shewn to Cæsar, with this tidings, Shall enter me with him!

Enter Diomedes.

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Dio. Where's Antony?
Der. There, Diomed, there.
Dio. Lives he? wilt thou not answer, man ?
Ant, Art thou there, Diomed? draw thy sword,

and give me
Sufficing strokes for death.
Dio. Most absolute lord,

Mistress Cleopatra sent me to thee.
Ant. When did she send thee?
Dio. Now, my Lord.
Ant. Where is she ?
Dio. Lockt in her Monument. She had a pro-

phesying fear
Of what hath come to pass ; for when she saw
(Which never shall be found) you did suspect
She had dispos’d with Cæfar; and that your rage
Would not be purg'd, le fent word she was dead.
But fearing fince how it might work, hath sent
Me to proclame the truth, and I am come,
I dread, too late.

[pr’ythee. Ant. Too late, good Diomed; call my Guard, I Dio. What, ho! the Emperor's Guard.

Guard. The Guard, What. hoa!

Lord calls.

Come, your

Enter the Guard. Ant. Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra 'bides, 'Tis the last service that I shall command you.

Guard. Woe are we, Sir! you may not live to


All your true follow'rs out.

Alt. Most heavy day!
Ant. Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp


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