Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Randall Martin
Not Peer Reviewed

Anthony and Cleopatra (Folio 1, 1623)

Alarum afarre off, as at a Sea-fight.
Enter Anthony, and Scarrus.
Ant. Yet they are not ioyn'd:
2755Where yon'd Pine does stand, I shall discouer all.
Ile bring thee word straight, how 'ris like to go.
Scar. Swallowes haue built
In Cleopatra's Sailes their nests. The Auguries
Say, they know not, they cannot tell, looke grimly,
2760And dare not speake their knowledge. Anthony,
Is valiant, and deiected, and by starts
His fretted Fortunes giue him hope and feare
Of what he has, and has not.
Enter Anthony.
2765Ant. All is lost:
This fowle Egyptian hath betrayed me:
My Fleete hath yeelded to the Foe, and yonder
They cast their Caps vp, and Carowse together
Like Friends long lost. Triple-turn'd Whore, 'tis thou
2770Hast sold me to this Nouice, and my heart
Makes onely Warres on thee. Bid them all flye:
For when I am reueng'd vpon my Charme,
I haue done all. Bid them all flye, be gone.
Oh Sunne, thy vprise shall I see no more,
2775Fortune, and Anthony part heere, euen heere
Do we shake hands? All come to this? The hearts
That pannelled me at heeles, to whom I gaue
Their wishes, do dis-Candie, melt their sweets
On blossoming sar: And this Pine is barkt,
2780That ouer-top'd them all. Betray'd I am.
Oh this false Soule of Egypt! this graue Charme,
Whose eye beck'd forth my Wars, & cal'd them home:
Whose Bosome was my Crownet, my chiefe end,
Like a right Gypsie, hath at fast and loose
2785Beguil'd me, to the very heart of losse.
What Eros, Eros?
Enter Cleopatra.
Ah, thou Spell! Auaunt.
Cleo. Why is my Lord enrag'd against his Loue?
2790Ant. Vanish, or I shall giue thee thy deseruing,
And blemish sars Triumph. Let him take thee,
And hoist thee vp to the shouting Plebeians,
Follow his Chariot, like the greatest spot
Of all thy Sex. Most Monster-like be shewne
2795For poor'st Diminitiues, for Dolts, and let
Patient Octauia, plough thy visage vp
With her prepared nailes.
exit Cleopatra.
'Tis well th'art gone,
If it be well to liue. But better 'twere
2800Thou fell'st into my furie, for one death
Might haue preuented many. Eros, hoa?
The shirt of Nessus is vpon me, teach me
Alcides, thou mine Ancestor, thy rage.
Let me lodge Licas on the hornes o'th'Moone,
2805And with those hands that graspt the heauiest Club,
Subdue my worthiest selfe: The Witch shall die,
To the young Roman Boy she hath sold me, and I fall
Vnder this plot: She dyes for't. Eros hoa?