Document:  All > Shakespeare > Tragedies > Antony and Cleopatra > Act IV, scene XV

	[Enter CLEOPATRA and her maids aloft, with

CLEOPATRA: O Charmian, I will never go from hence.

CHARMIAN: Be comforted, dear madam.

CLEOPATRA: No, I will not:
	All strange and terrible events are welcome,
	But comforts we despise; our size of sorrow,
	Proportion'd to our cause, must be as great
	As that which makes it.

	[Enter, below, DIOMEDES]

		  How now! is he dead?

DIOMEDES: His death's upon him, but not dead.
	Look out o' the other side your monument;
	His guard have brought him thither.

	[Enter, below, MARK ANTONY, borne by the Guard]

	Burn the great sphere thou movest in!
	darkling stand
	The varying shore o' the world. O Antony,
	Antony, Antony! Help, Charmian, help, Iras, help;
	Help, friends below; let's draw him hither.

	Not Caesar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony,
	But Antony's hath triumph'd on itself.

CLEOPATRA: So it should be, that none but Antony
	Should conquer Antony; but woe 'tis so!

MARK ANTONY: I am dying, Egypt, dying; only
	I here importune death awhile, until
	Of many thousand kisses the poor last
	I lay up thy lips.

CLEOPATRA:                   I dare not, dear,--
	Dear my lord, pardon,--I dare not,
	Lest I be taken: not the imperious show
	Of the full-fortuned Caesar ever shall
	Be brooch'd with me; if knife, drugs,
	serpents, have
	Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe:
	Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes
	And still conclusion, shall acquire no honour
	Demuring upon me. But come, come, Antony,--
	Help me, my women,--we must draw thee up:
	Assist, good friends.

MARK ANTONY: O, quick, or I am gone.

CLEOPATRA: Here's sport indeed! How heavy weighs my lord!
	Our strength is all gone into heaviness,
	That makes the weight: had I great Juno's power,
	The strong-wing'd Mercury should fetch thee up,
	And set thee by Jove's side. Yet come a little,--
	Wishes were ever fools,--O, come, come, come;

	[They heave MARK ANTONY aloft to CLEOPATRA]

	And welcome, welcome! die where thou hast lived:
	Quicken with kissing: had my lips that power,
	Thus would I wear them out.

All: A heavy sight!

MARK ANTONY: I am dying, Egypt, dying:
	Give me some wine, and let me speak a little.

CLEOPATRA: No, let me speak; and let me rail so high,
	That the false housewife Fortune break her wheel,
	Provoked by my offence.

MARK ANTONY: One word, sweet queen:
	Of Caesar seek your honour, with your safety. O!

CLEOPATRA: They do not go together.

MARK ANTONY: Gentle, hear me:
	None about Caesar trust but Proculeius.

CLEOPATRA: My resolution and my hands I'll trust;
	None about Caesar.

MARK ANTONY: The miserable change now at my end
	Lament nor sorrow at; but please your thoughts
	In feeding them with those my former fortunes
	Wherein I lived, the greatest prince o' the world,
	The noblest; and do now not basely die,
	Not cowardly put off my helmet to
	My countryman,--a Roman by a Roman
	Valiantly vanquish'd. Now my spirit is going;
	I can no more.

CLEOPATRA:                   Noblest of men, woo't die?
	Hast thou no care of me? shall I abide
	In this dull world, which in thy absence is
	No better than a sty? O, see, my women,


	The crown o' the earth doth melt. My lord!
	O, wither'd is the garland of the war,
	The soldier's pole is fall'n: young boys and girls
	Are level now with men; the odds is gone,
	And there is nothing left remarkable
	Beneath the visiting moon.


CHARMIAN: O, quietness, lady!

IRAS: She is dead too, our sovereign.


IRAS: Madam!

CHARMIAN: O madam, madam, madam!

IRAS: Royal Egypt, Empress!

CHARMIAN: Peace, peace, Iras!

CLEOPATRA: 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 stol'n our jewel. All's but naught;
	Patience is scottish, 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:
	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 MARK ANTONY's body]


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