Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/The Tragedie of Anthonie, and Cleopatra/Act 4 Scene 14
Enter Anthony, and Eros.
Ant.Eros, thou yet behold'st me?
Eros.I Noble Lord.
Ant.Sometime we see a clowd that's Dragonish,A vapour sometime, like a Beare, or Lyon,A toward Cittadell, a pendant Rocke,A forked Mountaine, or blew PromontorieWith Trees vpon't, that nodde vnto the world,And mocke our eyes with Ayre.Thou hast seene these Signes,They are blacke Vespers Pageants.
Eros.I my Lord.
Ant.That which is now a Horse, euen with a thoghtthe Racke dislimes, and makes it indistinctAs water is in water.
Eros.It does my Lord.
Ant.My good Knaue Eros, now thy Captaine isEuen such a body: Heere I am Anthony,Yet cannot hold this visible shape (my Knaue)I made these warres for Egypt, and the Queene,Whose heart I thought I had, for she had mine:Which whil'st it was mine, had annext vntoo'tA Million moe, (now lost:) shee Eros hasPackt Cards with Cæsars, and false plaid my GloryVnto an Enemies triumph.Nay, weepe not gentle Eros, there is left vsOur selues to end our selues.Enter Mardian.Oh thy vilde Lady, she has rob'd me of my Sword.
Mar.No Anthony,My Mistris lou'd thee, and her Fortunes mingledWith thine intirely.
Ant.Hence sawcy Eunuch peace, she hath betraid me,And shall dye the death.
Mar.Death of one person, can be paide but once,And that she ha's discharg'd. What thou would'st doIs done vnto thy hand: the last she spakeWas Anthony, most Noble Anthony.Then in the midd'st a tearing grone did breakeThe name of Anthony: it was diuidedBetweene her heart, and lips: she rendred lifeThy name so buried in her.
Ant.Dead then?
Mar.Dead.
Ant.Vnarme Eros, the long dayes taske is done,And we must sleepe: That thou depart'st hence safeexit Mardian.Does pay thy labour richly: Go.Off, plucke off,The seuen-fold shield of Aiax cannot keepeThe battery from my heart. Oh cleaue my sides.Heart, once be stronger then thy Continent,Cracke thy fraile Case. Apace Eros, apace;No more a Soldier: bruised peeces go,exit ErosYou haue bin Nobly borne. From me awhile.I will o're-take thee Cleopatra, andWeepe for my pardon. So it must be, for nowAll length is Torture: since the Torch is out,Lye downe and stray no farther. Now all labourMarres what it does: yea, very force entanglesIt selfe with strength: Seale then, and all is done.Eros? I come my Queene. Eros? Stay for me,Where Soules do couch on Flowers, wee'l hand in hand,And with our sprightly Port make the Ghostes gaze:Dido, and her Æneas shall want Troopes,And all the haunt be ours. Come Eros, Eros.
Enter Eros.
Eros.What would my Lord?
Ant.Since Cleopatra dyed,I haue liu'd in such dishonour, that the GodsDetest my basenesse. I, that with my Sword,Quarter'd the World, and o're greene Neptunes backeWith Ships, made Cities; condemne my selfe, to lackeThe Courage of a Woman, lesse Noble mindeThen she which by her death, our Cæsar tellesI am Conqueror of my selfe. Thou art sworne Eros,That when the exigent should come, which nowIs come indeed: When I should see behinde meTh'ineuitable prosecution of disgrace and horror,That on my command, thou then would'st kill me.Doo't, the time is come: Thou strik'st not me,'Tis Cæsar thou defeat'st. Put colour in thy Cheeke.
Eros.The Gods with-hold me,Shall I do that which all the Parthian Darts,(Though Enemy) lost ayme, and could not.
Ant.Eros,Would'st thou be window'd in great Rome, and seeThy Master thus with pleacht Armes, bending downeHis corrigible necke, his face subdu'deTo penetratiue shame; whil'st the wheel'd seateOf Fortunate Cæsar drawne before him, brandedHis Basenesse that ensued.
Eros.I would not see't.
Ant.Come then: for with a wound I must be cur'd.Draw that thy honest Sword, which thou hast worneMost vsefull for thy Country.
Eros.Oh sir, pardon me.
Ant.When I did make thee free, swor'st yu not thenTo do this when I bad thee? Do it at once,Or thy precedent Seruices are allBut accidents vnpurpos'd. Draw, and come.
Eros.Turne from me then that Noble countenance,Wherein the worship of the whole world lyes.
Ant.Loe thee.
Eros.My sword is drawne.
Ant.Then let it do at onceThe thing why thou hast drawne it.
Eros.My deere Master,My Captaine, and my Emperor. Let me sayBefore I strike this bloody stroke, Farwell.
Ant.'Tis said man, and farewell.
Eros.Farewell great Chiefe. Shall I strike now?
Ant.Killes himselfe.Now Eros.
Eros.Why there then:Thus I do escape the sorrow of Anthonies death.
Ant.Thrice-Nobler then my selfe,Thou teachest me: Oh valiant Eros, whatI should, and thou could'st not, my Queene and ErosHaue by their braue instruction got vpon meA Noblenesse in Record. But I will beeA Bride-groome in my death, and run intoo'tAs to a Louers bed. Come then, and Eros,Thy Master dies thy Scholler; to do thusI learnt of thee. How, not dead? Not dead?The Guard, how? Oh dispatch me.
Enter a Guard.
1. Guard.What's the noise?
Ant.I haue done my worke ill Friends:Oh make an end of what I haue begun.
2The Starre is falne.
1And time is at his Period.
All.Alas, and woe.
Ant.Let him that loues me, strike me dead.
1Not I.
2Nor I.
3exeuntNor any one.
Dercetus.Thy death and fortunes bid thy folowers flyThis sword but shewne to Cæsar with this tydings,Shall enter me with him.
Enter Diomedes.
Dio.Where's Anthony?
Decre.There Diomed there.
Diom.Liues he: wilt thou not answer man?
Ant.Art thou there Diomed?Draw thy sword, and giue mee,Suffising strokes for death.
Diom.Most absolute Lord:My Mistris Cleopatra sent me to thee.
Ant.When did shee send thee?
Diom.Now my Lord.
Anth.Where is she?
Diom.Lockt in her Monument: she had a Prophesying feareOf what hath come to passe: for when she saw(Which neuer shall be found) you did suspectShe had dispos'd with Cæsar, and that your rageWould not be purg'd, she sent you word she was dead:But fearing since how it might worke, hath sentMe to proclaime the truth, and I am comeI dread, too late.
Ant.Too late good Diomed: call my Guard I prythee.
Dio.What hoa: the Emperors Guard,The Guard, what hoa? Come, your Lord calles.
Enter 4. or 5. of the Guard of Anthony.
Ant.Beare me good Friends where Cleopatra bides,'Tis the last seruice that I shall command you.
1Woe, woe are we sir, you may not liue to weareAll your true Followers out.
All.Most heauy day.
Ant.Nay good my Fellowes, do not please sharp fateTo grace it with your sorrowes. Bid that welcomeWhich comes to punish vs, and we punish itSeeming to beare it lightly. Take me vp,I haue led you oft, carry me now good Friends,Exit bearing AnthonyAnd haue my thankes for all.