All 1 Guard. Woe are we, sir, you may not live to wear your true followers out. All. Most heavy day! Ant. Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp fate To grace it with your sorrows: bid that welcome I have led you oft; carry me now, good friends, [Exeunt, bearing ANTONY. SCENE XIII. The same. A Monument. Enter above, CLEOPATRA, CHArmian, and Iras. Cleo. O Charmian, I will never go from hence. Char. Be comforted, dear madam. Cleo. 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 Enter DIOMedes. As that which makes it.-How now? is he dead? Cleo. Enter ANTONY, borne by the Guard, O thou sun, Burn the great sphere thou mov'st in!-darkling stand The varying shore o'the world!-O Antony! Peace: Cleo. So it should be, that none but Antony Cleo. Lest I be taken: not the imperious show Be brooch'd with me;' if knife, drugs, serpents, have 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. 9 Ant. O, quick, or I am gone. Cleo. Here's sport, indeed!3-How heavy weighs my lord! darkling-] i. e. without light. 'Be brooch'd with me;] Be brooch'd, i. e. adorn'd. A brooch was an ornament formerly worn in the hat. 2 resolution. still conclusion,] Sedate determination; silent coolness of Here's sport, indeed!] Cleopatra, perhaps, by this affected levity, this phrase which has no determined signification, only wishes to inspire Antony with cheerfulness, and encourage those who are engaged in the melancholy task of drawing him up into the monument. Our strength is all gone into heaviness,3 All. A heavy sight! Ant. I am dying, Egypt, dying: Give me some wine, and let me speak a little. Cleo. No, let me speak; and let me rail so high, That the false housewife Fortune break her wheel, Provok'd by my offence. Ant. One word, sweet queen: Of Cæsar seek your honour, with your safety.-0! Cleo. They do not go together. Ant. Gentle, hear me: None about Cæsar trust, but Proculeius. Cleo. My resolution, and my hands, I'll trust; None about Cæsar. Ant. 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 liv'd, the greatest prince o'the world, The noblest: and do now not basely die, Nor 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. Cleo. Noblest of men, woo't die? Hast thou no care of me? shall I abide In this dull world, which in thy absence is [Dies. —into heaviness,] Heaviness is here used equivocally for sorrow and weight. 4 Quicken with kissing;] That is, Revive by my kiss. No better than a stye?-O, see, my women, The soldier's poles is fallen; young boys, and girls, Are level now with men: the odds is gone, And there is nothing left remarkable Beneath the visiting moon. Char. Iras. She is dead too, our sovereign. Char. Iras. [She faints. O, quietness, lady! Lady, Madam, Royal Egypt! Char. O madam, madam, madam! Iras. Empress! Char. Peace, peace, Iras. Cleo. No more, but e'en a woman; and commanded By such poor passion as the maid that milks, 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, The soldier's pole-] He at whom the soldiers pointed, as at a pageant held high for observation. 6 the meanest chares.] i. e. task-work. Hence our term chare-woman. 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. ACT V. SCENE I. Cæsar's Camp before Alexandria. Enter CESAR, AGRIPPA, DOLABELLA, MECENAS, GALLUS, PROCULEIUS, and Others. Cæs. Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield; Being so frustrate,' tell him, he mocks us by The pauses that he makes. Dol. 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 ?o Der. 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, I yield thee up my Cæs. life. What is't thou say'st? 7 Being so frustrate,-] Frustrate, for frustrated, was the language of Shakspeare's time. 8 hand. thus to us?] i. e. with a drawn and bloody sword in thy |