Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Randall Martin
Not Peer Reviewed

Anthony and Cleopatra (Folio 1, 1623)

Enter Cleopatra, and her Maides aloft, with
Charmian & Iras.
Cleo. Oh Charmian, I will neuer go from hence.
Char. Be comforted deere Madam.
3000Cleo. No, I will not:
All strange and terrible euents are welcome,
But comforts we dispise; our size of sorrow
Proportion'd to our cause, must be as great
As that which makes it.
3005Enter Diomed.
How now? is he dead?
Diom. His death's vpon him, but not dead.
Looke out o'th other side your Monument,
His Guard haue brought him thither.
3010Enter Anthony, and the Guard.
Cleo. Oh Sunne,
Burne the great Sphere thou mou'st in, darkling stand
The varrying shore o'th'world. O Antony, Antony, Antony
Helpe Charmian, helpe Iras helpe: helpe Friends
3015Below, let's draw him hither.
Ant. Peace,
Not Caesars Valour hath o'rethrowne Anthony,
But Anthonie's hath Triumpht on it selfe.
Cleo. So it should be,
3020That none but Anthony should conquer Anthony,
But woe 'tis so.
Ant. I am dying Egypt, dying; onely
I heere importune death a-while, vntill
Of many thousand kisses, the poore last
3025I lay vpon thy lippes.
Cleo. I dare not Deere,
Deere my Lord pardon: I dare not,
Least I be taken: not th'Imperious shew
Of the full-Fortun'd Caesar, euer shall
3030Be brooch'd with me, if Knife, Drugges, Serpents haue
Edge, sting, or operation. I am safe:
Your Wife Octauia, with her modest eyes,
And still Conclusion, shall acquire no Honour
Demuring vpon me: but come, come Anthony,
3035Helpe me my women, we must draw thee vp:
Assist good Friends.
Ant. Oh quicke, or I am gone.
Cleo. Heere's sport indeede:
How heauy weighes my Lord?
3040Our strength is all gone into heauinesse,
That makes the waight. Had I great Iuno's power,
The strong wing'd Mercury should fetch thee vp,
And set thee by Ioues side. Yet come a little,
Wishers were euer Fooles. Oh come, come, come,
3045 They heaue Anthony aloft to Cleopatra.
And welcome, welcome. Dye when thou hast liu'd,
Quicken with kissing: had my lippes that power,
Thus would I weare them out.
All. A heauy sight.
3050Ant. I am dying Egypt, dying.
Giue me some Wine, and let me speake a little.
Cleo. No, let me speake, and let me rayle so hye,
That the false Huswife Fortune, breake her Wheele,
Prouok'd by my offence.
3055Ant. One word (sweet Queene)
Of Caesar seeke your Honour, with your safety. Oh.
Cleo. They do not go together.
Ant. Gentle heare me,
None about Caesar trust, but Proculeius.
3060Cleo. My Resolution, and my hands, Ile trust,
None about Caesar.
Ant. The miserable change now at my end,
Lament nor sorrow at: but please your thoughts
In feeding them with those my former Fortunes
3065Wherein I liued. The greatest Prince o'th'world,
The Noblest: and do now not basely dye,
Not Cowardly put off my Helmet to
My Countreyman. A Roman, by a Roman
Valiantly vanquish'd. Now my Spirit is going,
3070I can no more.
Cleo. Noblest of men, woo't dye?
Hast thou no care of me, shall I abide
In this dull world, which in thy absence is
No better then a Stye? Oh see my women:
3075The Crowne o'th'earth doth melt. My Lord?
Oh wither'd is the Garland of the Warre,
364The Tragedie of
The Souldiers pole is falne: young Boyes and Gyrles
Are leuell now with men: The oddes is gone,
And there is nothing left remarkeable
3080Beneath the visiting Moone.
Char. Oh quietnesse, Lady.
Iras. She's dead too, our Soueraigne.
Char. Lady.
Iras. Madam.
3085Char. Oh Madam, Madam, Madam.
Iras. Royall Egypt: Empresse.
Char. Peace, peace, Iras.
Cleo. No more but in a Woman, and commanded
By such poore passion, as the Maid that Milkes,
3090And doe's the meanest chares. It were for me,
To throw my Scepter at the iniurious Gods,
To tell them that this World did equall theyrs,
Till they had stolne our Iewell. All's but naught:
Patience is sottish, and impatience does
3095Become a Dogge that's mad: Then is it sinne,
To rush into the secret house of death,
Ere death dare come to vs. How do you Women?
What, what good cheere? Why how now Charmian?
My Noble Gyrles? Ah Women, women! Looke
3100Our Lampe is spent, it's out. Good sirs, take heart,
Wee'l bury him: And then, what's braue, what's Noble,
Let's doo't after the high Roman fashion,
And make death proud to take vs. Come, away,
This case of that huge Spirit now is cold.
3105Ah Women, Women! Come, we haue no Friend
But Resolution, and the breefest end.
Exeunt, bearing of Anthonies body.