Antony and Cleopatra Part 26

Clow. You must thinke this (looke you,) that the Worme will do his kinde

Cleo. I, I, farewell

Clow. Looke you, the Worme is not to bee trusted, but in the keeping of wise people: for indeede, there is no goodnesse in the Worme

Cleo. Take thou no care, it shall be heeded

Clow. Very good: giue it nothing I pray you, for it is not worth the feeding

Cleo. Will it eate me?

Clow. You must not think I am so simple, but I know the diuell himselfe will not eate a woman: I know, that a woman is a dish for the G.o.ds, if the diuell dresse her not. But truly, these same whorson diuels doe the G.o.ds great harme in their women: for in euery tenne that they make, the diuels marre fiue

Cleo. Well, get thee gone, farewell

Clow. Yes forsooth: I wish you ioy o'th' worm.

Exit

Cleo. Giue me my Robe, put on my Crowne, I haue Immortall longings in me. Now no more The iuyce of Egypts Grape shall moyst this lip.

Yare, yare, good Iras; quicke: Me thinkes I heare Anthony call: I see him rowse himselfe To praise my n.o.ble Act. I heare him mock The lucke of Caesar, which the G.o.ds giue men To excuse their after wrath. Husband, I come: Now to that name, my Courage proue my t.i.tle.

I am Fire, and Ayre; my other Elements I giue to baser life. So, haue you done?

Come then, and take the last warmth of my Lippes.

Farewell kinde Charmian, Iras, long farewell.

Haue I the Aspicke in my lippes? Dost fall?

If thou, and Nature can so gently part, The stroke of death is as a Louers pinch, Which hurts, and is desir'd. Dost thou lye still?

If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world, It is not worth leaue-taking

Char. Dissolue thicke clowd, & Raine, that I may say The G.o.ds themselues do weepe

Cleo. This proues me base: If she first meete the Curled Anthony, Hee'l make demand of her, and spend that kisse Which is my heauen to haue. Come thou mortal wretch, With thy sharpe teeth this knot intrinsicate, Of life at once vntye: Poore venomous Foole, Be angry, and dispatch. Oh could'st thou speake, That I might heare thee call great Caesar a.s.se, vnpolicied

Char. Oh Easterne Starre

Cleo. Peace, peace: Dost thou not see my Baby at my breast, That suckes the Nurse asleepe

Char. O breake! O breake!

Cleo. As sweet as Balme, as soft as Ayre, as gentle.

O Anthony! Nay I will take thee too.

What should I stay-

Dyes.

Char. In this wilde World? So fare thee well: Now boast thee Death, in thy possession lyes A La.s.se vnparalell'd. Downie Windowes cloze, And golden Phoebus, neuer be beheld Of eyes againe so Royall: your Crownes away, Ile mend it, and then play- Enter the Guard rustling in; and Dolabella.

1.Guard. Where's the Queene?

Char. Speake softly, wake her not

1 Caesar hath sent Char. Too slow a Messenger.

Oh come apace, dispatch, I partly feele thee

1 Approach hoa, All's not well: Caesar's beguild

2 There's Dolabella sent from Caesar: call him

1 What worke is heere Charmian?

Is this well done?

Char. It is well done, and fitting for a Princesse Descended of so many Royall Kings.

Ah Souldier.

Charmian dyes.

Enter Dolabella.

Dol. How goes it heere?

2.Guard. All dead

Dol. Caesar, thy thoughts Touch their effects in this: Thy selfe art comming To see perform'd the dreaded Act which thou So sought'st to hinder.

Enter Caesar and all his Traine, marching.

All. A way there, a way for Caesar

Dol. Oh sir, you are too sure an Augurer: That you did feare, is done

Caesar. Brauest at the last, She leuell'd at our purposes, and being Royall Tooke her owne way: the manner of their deaths, I do not see them bleede

Dol. Who was last with them?

1.Guard. A simple Countryman, that broght hir Figs: This was his Basket

Caesar. Poyson'd then

1.Guard. Oh Caesar: This Charmian liu'd but now, she stood and spake: I found her tr.i.m.m.i.n.g vp the Diadem; On her dead Mistris tremblingly she stood, And on the sodaine dropt

Caesar. Oh n.o.ble weakenesse: If they had swallow'd poyson, 'twould appeare By externall swelling: but she lookes like sleepe, As she would catch another Anthony In her strong toyle of Grace

Dol. Heere on her brest, There is a vent of Bloud, and something blowne, The like is on her Arme

1.Guard. This is an Aspickes traile, And these Figge-leaues haue slime vpon them, such As th' Aspicke leaues vpon the Caues of Nyle

Caesar. Most probable That so she dyed: for her Physitian tels mee She hath pursu'de Conclusions infinite Of easie wayes to dye. Take vp her bed, And beare her Women from the Monument, She shall be buried by her Anthony.

No Graue vpon the earth shall clip in it A payre so famous: high euents as these Strike those that make them: and their Story is No lesse in pitty, then his Glory which Brought them to be lamented. Our Army shall In solemne shew, attend this Funerall, And then to Rome. Come Dolabella, see High Order, in this great Solemnity.

Exeunt. omnes

FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF Anthonie, and Cleopatra.