Complete Plays, The (169 page)

Eros

O, sir, pardon me!

Mark Antony

When I did make thee free, sworest thou not then
To do this when I bade thee? Do it at once;
Or thy precedent services are all
But accidents unpurposed. Draw, and come.

Eros

Turn from me, then, that noble countenance,
Wherein the worship of the whole world lies.

Mark Antony

Lo thee!

Turning from him

Eros

My sword is drawn.

Mark Antony

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

Eros

My dear master,
My captain, and my emperor, let me say,
Before I strike this bloody stroke, farewell.

Mark Antony

’Tis said, man; and farewell.

Eros

Farewell, great chief. Shall I strike now?

Mark Antony

Now, Eros.

Eros

Why, there then: thus I do escape the sorrow
Of Antony’s death.

Kills himself

Mark Antony

 
Thrice-nobler than myself!
Thou teachest me, O valiant Eros, what
I should, and thou couldst 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 learn’d of thee. How! not dead? not dead?
The guard, ho! O, dispatch me!

Enter Dercetas and Guard

First Guard

What’s the noise?

Mark Antony

I have done my work in, friends: O, make an end
Of what I have begun.

Second Guard

The star is fall’n.

First Guard

And time is at his period.

All

Alas, and woe!

Mark Antony

Let him that loves me strike me dead.

First Guard

Not I.

Second Guard

Nor I.

Third Guard

Nor any one.

Exeunt Guard

Dercetas

Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers fly.
This sword but shown to Caesar, with this tidings,
Shall enter me with him.

Enter Diomedes

Diomedes

Where’s Antony?

Dercetas

 
There, Diomed there.

Diomedes

Lives he?
Wilt thou not answer, man?

Exit Dercetas

Mark Antony

Art thou there, Diomed? Draw thy sword, and give me
Sufficing strokes for death.

Diomedes

Most absolute lord,
My mistress Cleopatra sent me to thee.

Mark Antony

When did she send thee?

Diomedes

Now, my lord.

Mark Antony

Where is she?

Diomedes

Lock’d in her monument. She had a prophesying fear
Of what hath come to pass: for when she saw —
Which never shall be found — you did suspect
She had disposed with Caesar, and that your rage
Would not be purged, she sent you word she was dead;
But, fearing since how it might work, hath sent
Me to proclaim the truth; and I am come,
I dread, too late.

Mark Antony

Too late, good Diomed: call my guard, I prithee.

Diomedes

What, ho, the emperor’s guard! The guard, what, ho!
Come, your lord calls!

Enter four or five of the Guard of Mark Antony

Mark Antony

Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra bides;
’Tis the last service that I shall command you.

First Guard

Woe, woe are we, sir, you may not live to wear
All your true followers out.

All

Most heavy day!

Mark Antony

Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp fate
To grace it with your sorrows: bid that welcome
Which comes to punish us, and we punish it
Seeming to bear it lightly. Take me up:
I have led you oft: carry me now, good friends,
And have my thanks for all.

Exeunt, bearing Mark Antony

S
CENE
XV. T
HE
SAME
. A
MONUMENT
.

Enter Cleopatra and her maids aloft, with Charmian and Iras

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

Cleopatra

O sun,
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.

Mark Antony

Peace!
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,

Mark Antony dies

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.

Faints

Charmian

O, quietness, lady!

Iras

She is dead too, our sovereign.

Charmian

Lady!

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

A
CT
V

S
CENE
I. A
LEXANDRIA
. O
CTAVIUS
C
AESAR
’
S
CAMP
.

Enter Octavius Caesar, Agrippa, Dolabella, Mecaenas, Gallus, Proculeius, and others, his council of war

Octavius Caesar

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

Dolabella

Caesar, I shall.

Exit

Enter Dercetas, with the sword of Mark Antony

Octavius Caesar

Wherefore is that? and what art thou that darest
Appear thus to us?

Dercetas

 
I am call’d Dercetas;
Mark Antony I served, who best was worthy
Best to be served: 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 Caesar; if thou pleasest not,
I yield thee up my life.

Octavius Caesar

What is’t thou say’st?

Dercetas

I say, O Caesar, Antony is dead.

Octavius Caesar

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.

Dercetas

He is dead, Caesar:
Not by a public minister of justice,
Nor by a hired knife; but that self 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.

Octavius Caesar

Look you sad, friends?
The gods rebuke me, but it is tidings
To wash the eyes of kings.

Agrippa

And strange it is,
That nature must compel us to lament
Our most persisted deeds.

Mecaenas

His taints and honours
Waged equal with him.

Agrippa

A rarer spirit never
Did steer humanity: but you, gods, will give us
Some faults to make us men. Caesar is touch’d.

Mecaenas

When such a spacious mirror’s set before him,
He needs must see himself.

Octavius Caesar

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,
Unreconciliable, should divide
Our equalness to this. Hear me, good friends —
But I will tell you at some meeter season:

Enter an Egyptian

The business of this man looks out of him;
We’ll hear him what he says. Whence are you?

Egyptian

A poor Egyptian yet. The queen my mistress,
Confined in all she has, her monument,
Of thy intents desires instruction,
That she preparedly may frame herself
To the way she’s forced to.

Octavius Caesar

Bid her have good heart:
She soon shall know of us, by some of ours,
How honourable and how kindly we
Determine for her; for Caesar cannot live
To be ungentle.

Egyptian

So the gods preserve thee!

Exit

Octavius Caesar

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.