Speeches (Lines) for Cleopatra
in "Antony and Cleopatra"

Total: 204

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Philo. Nay, but this dotage of our general's
O'erflows the measure: those his goodly eyes,
That o'er the files and musters of the war
Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now turn,
The office and devotion of their view
Upon a tawny front: his captain's heart,
Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst
The buckles on his breast, reneges all temper,
And is become the bellows and the fan
To cool a gipsy's lust.
[Flourish. Enter ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, her Ladies,]
the Train, with Eunuchs fanning her]
Look, where they come:
Take but good note, and you shall see in him.
The triple pillar of the world transform'd
Into a strumpet's fool: behold and see.

Cleopatra. If it be love indeed, tell me how much.



Antony. There's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd.

Cleopatra. I'll set a bourn how far to be beloved.



Antony. Grates me: the sum.

Cleopatra. Nay, hear them, Antony:
Fulvia perchance is angry; or, who knows
If the scarce-bearded Caesar have not sent
His powerful mandate to you, 'Do this, or this;
Take in that kingdom, and enfranchise that;
Perform 't, or else we damn thee.'



Antony. How, my love!

Cleopatra. Perchance! nay, and most like:
You must not stay here longer, your dismission
Is come from Caesar; therefore hear it, Antony.
Where's Fulvia's process? Caesar's I would say? both?
Call in the messengers. As I am Egypt's queen,
Thou blushest, Antony; and that blood of thine
Is Caesar's homager: else so thy cheek pays shame
When shrill-tongued Fulvia scolds. The messengers!



Antony. Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch
Of the ranged empire fall! Here is my space.
Kingdoms are clay: our dungy earth alike
Feeds beast as man: the nobleness of life
Is to do thus; when such a mutual pair
And such a twain can do't, in which I bind,
On pain of punishment, the world to weet
We stand up peerless.

Cleopatra. Excellent falsehood!
Why did he marry Fulvia, and not love her?
I'll seem the fool I am not; Antony
Will be himself.



Antony. But stirr'd by Cleopatra.
Now, for the love of Love and her soft hours,
Let's not confound the time with conference harsh:
There's not a minute of our lives should stretch
Without some pleasure now. What sport tonight?

Cleopatra. Hear the ambassadors.



(stage directions). [Enter CLEOPATRA]

Cleopatra. Saw you my lord?



Domitius Enobarus. No, lady.

Cleopatra. Was he not here?



Charmian. No, madam.

Cleopatra. He was disposed to mirth; but on the sudden
A Roman thought hath struck him. Enobarbus!



Domitius Enobarus. Madam?

Cleopatra. Seek him, and bring him hither.
Where's Alexas?



Alexas. Here, at your service. My lord approaches.

Cleopatra. We will not look upon him: go with us.



(stage directions). [Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS]

Cleopatra. Where is he?



Charmian. I did not see him since.

Cleopatra. See where he is, who's with him, what he does:
I did not send you: if you find him sad,
Say I am dancing; if in mirth, report
That I am sudden sick: quick, and return.



Charmian. Madam, methinks, if you did love him dearly,
You do not hold the method to enforce
The like from him.

Cleopatra. What should I do, I do not?



Charmian. In each thing give him way, cross him nothing.

Cleopatra. Thou teachest like a fool; the way to lose him.



(stage directions). [Enter MARK ANTONY]

Cleopatra. I am sick and sullen.



Antony. I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose,—

Cleopatra. Help me away, dear Charmian; I shall fall:
It cannot be thus long, the sides of nature
Will not sustain it.



Antony. Now, my dearest queen,—

Cleopatra. Pray you, stand further from me.



Antony. What's the matter?

Cleopatra. I know, by that same eye, there's some good news.
What says the married woman? You may go:
Would she had never given you leave to come!
Let her not say 'tis I that keep you here:
I have no power upon you; hers you are.



Antony. The gods best know,—

Cleopatra. O, never was there queen
So mightily betray'd! yet at the first
I saw the treasons planted.



Antony. Cleopatra,—

Cleopatra. Why should I think you can be mine and true,
Though you in swearing shake the throned gods,
Who have been false to Fulvia? Riotous madness,
To be entangled with those mouth-made vows,
Which break themselves in swearing!



Antony. Most sweet queen,—

Cleopatra. Nay, pray you, seek no colour for your going,
But bid farewell, and go: when you sued staying,
Then was the time for words: no going then;
Eternity was in our lips and eyes,
Bliss in our brows' bent; none our parts so poor,
But was a race of heaven: they are so still,
Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world,
Art turn'd the greatest liar.



Antony. How now, lady!

Cleopatra. I would I had thy inches; thou shouldst know
There were a heart in Egypt.



Antony. Hear me, queen:
The strong necessity of time commands
Our services awhile; but my full heart
Remains in use with you. Our Italy
Shines o'er with civil swords: Sextus Pompeius
Makes his approaches to the port of Rome:
Equality of two domestic powers
Breed scrupulous faction: the hated, grown to strength,
Are newly grown to love: the condemn'd Pompey,
Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace,
Into the hearts of such as have not thrived
Upon the present state, whose numbers threaten;
And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge
By any desperate change: my more particular,
And that which most with you should safe my going,
Is Fulvia's death.

Cleopatra. Though age from folly could not give me freedom,
It does from childishness: can Fulvia die?



Antony. She's dead, my queen:
Look here, and at thy sovereign leisure read
The garboils she awaked; at the last, best:
See when and where she died.

Cleopatra. O most false love!
Where be the sacred vials thou shouldst fill
With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see,
In Fulvia's death, how mine received shall be.



Antony. Quarrel no more, but be prepared to know
The purposes I bear; which are, or cease,
As you shall give the advice. By the fire
That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence
Thy soldier, servant; making peace or war
As thou affect'st.

Cleopatra. Cut my lace, Charmian, come;
But let it be: I am quickly ill, and well,
So Antony loves.



Antony. My precious queen, forbear;
And give true evidence to his love, which stands
An honourable trial.

Cleopatra. So Fulvia told me.
I prithee, turn aside and weep for her,
Then bid adieu to me, and say the tears
Belong to Egypt: good now, play one scene
Of excellent dissembling; and let it look
Life perfect honour.



Antony. You'll heat my blood: no more.

Cleopatra. You can do better yet; but this is meetly.



Antony. Now, by my sword,—

Cleopatra. And target. Still he mends;
But this is not the best. Look, prithee, Charmian,
How this Herculean Roman does become
The carriage of his chafe.



Antony. I'll leave you, lady.

Cleopatra. Courteous lord, one word.
Sir, you and I must part, but that's not it:
Sir, you and I have loved, but there's not it;
That you know well: something it is I would,
O, my oblivion is a very Antony,
And I am all forgotten.



Antony. But that your royalty
Holds idleness your subject, I should take you
For idleness itself.

Cleopatra. 'Tis sweating labour
To bear such idleness so near the heart
As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me;
Since my becomings kill me, when they do not
Eye well to you: your honour calls you hence;
Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly.
And all the gods go with you! upon your sword
Sit laurel victory! and smooth success
Be strew'd before your feet!



(stage directions). [Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN]

Cleopatra. Charmian!



Charmian. Madam?

Cleopatra. Ha, ha!
Give me to drink mandragora.



Charmian. Why, madam?

Cleopatra. That I might sleep out this great gap of time
My Antony is away.



Charmian. You think of him too much.

Cleopatra. O, 'tis treason!



Charmian. Madam, I trust, not so.

Cleopatra. Thou, eunuch Mardian!



Mardian. What's your highness' pleasure?

Cleopatra. Not now to hear thee sing; I take no pleasure
In aught an eunuch has: 'tis well for thee,
That, being unseminar'd, thy freer thoughts
May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou affections?



Mardian. Yes, gracious madam.

Cleopatra. Indeed!



Mardian. Not in deed, madam; for I can do nothing
But what indeed is honest to be done:
Yet have I fierce affections, and think
What Venus did with Mars.

Cleopatra. O Charmian,
Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he?
Or does he walk? or is he on his horse?
O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony!
Do bravely, horse! for wot'st thou whom thou movest?
The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm
And burgonet of men. He's speaking now,
Or murmuring 'Where's my serpent of old Nile?'
For so he calls me: now I feed myself
With most delicious poison. Think on me,
That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black,
And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Caesar,
When thou wast here above the ground, I was
A morsel for a monarch: and great Pompey
Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow;
There would he anchor his aspect and die
With looking on his life.



Alexas. Sovereign of Egypt, hail!

Cleopatra. How much unlike art thou Mark Antony!
Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath
With his tinct gilded thee.
How goes it with my brave Mark Antony?



Alexas. Last thing he did, dear queen,
He kiss'd,—the last of many doubled kisses,—
This orient pearl. His speech sticks in my heart.

Cleopatra. Mine ear must pluck it thence.



Alexas. 'Good friend,' quoth he,
'Say, the firm Roman to great Egypt sends
This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot,
To mend the petty present, I will piece
Her opulent throne with kingdoms; all the east,
Say thou, shall call her mistress.' So he nodded,
And soberly did mount an arm-gaunt steed,
Who neigh'd so high, that what I would have spoke
Was beastly dumb'd by him.

Cleopatra. What, was he sad or merry?



Alexas. Like to the time o' the year between the extremes
Of hot and cold, he was nor sad nor merry.

Cleopatra. O well-divided disposition! Note him,
Note him good Charmian, 'tis the man; but note him:
He was not sad, for he would shine on those
That make their looks by his; he was not merry,
Which seem'd to tell them his remembrance lay
In Egypt with his joy; but between both:
O heavenly mingle! Be'st thou sad or merry,
The violence of either thee becomes,
So does it no man else. Met'st thou my posts?



Alexas. Ay, madam, twenty several messengers:
Why do you send so thick?

Cleopatra. Who's born that day
When I forget to send to Antony,
Shall die a beggar. Ink and paper, Charmian.
Welcome, my good Alexas. Did I, Charmian,
Ever love Caesar so?



Charmian. O that brave Caesar!

Cleopatra. Be choked with such another emphasis!
Say, the brave Antony.



Charmian. The valiant Caesar!

Cleopatra. By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth,
If thou with Caesar paragon again
My man of men.



Charmian. By your most gracious pardon,
I sing but after you.

Cleopatra. My salad days,
When I was green in judgment: cold in blood,
To say as I said then! But, come, away;
Get me ink and paper:
He shall have every day a several greeting,
Or I'll unpeople Egypt.



(stage directions). [Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS]

Cleopatra. Give me some music; music, moody food
Of us that trade in love.



(stage directions). [Enter MARDIAN]

Cleopatra. Let it alone; let's to billiards: come, Charmian.



Charmian. My arm is sore; best play with Mardian.

Cleopatra. As well a woman with an eunuch play'd
As with a woman. Come, you'll play with me, sir?



Mardian. As well as I can, madam.

Cleopatra. And when good will is show'd, though't come
too short,
The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now:
Give me mine angle; we'll to the river: there,
My music playing far off, I will betray
Tawny-finn'd fishes; my bended hook shall pierce
Their slimy jaws; and, as I draw them up,
I'll think them every one an Antony,
And say 'Ah, ha! you're caught.'



Charmian. 'Twas merry when
You wager'd on your angling; when your diver
Did hang a salt-fish on his hook, which he
With fervency drew up.

Cleopatra. That time,—O times!—
I laugh'd him out of patience; and that night
I laugh'd him into patience; and next morn,
Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed;
Then put my tires and mantles on him, whilst
I wore his sword Philippan.
[Enter a Messenger]
O, from Italy
Ram thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears,
That long time have been barren.



Messenger. Madam, madam,—

Cleopatra. Antonius dead!—If thou say so, villain,
Thou kill'st thy mistress: but well and free,
If thou so yield him, there is gold, and here
My bluest veins to kiss; a hand that kings
Have lipp'd, and trembled kissing.



Messenger. First, madam, he is well.

Cleopatra. Why, there's more gold.
But, sirrah, mark, we use
To say the dead are well: bring it to that,
The gold I give thee will I melt and pour
Down thy ill-uttering throat.



Messenger. Good madam, hear me.

Cleopatra. Well, go to, I will;
But there's no goodness in thy face: if Antony
Be free and healthful,—so tart a favour
To trumpet such good tidings! If not well,
Thou shouldst come like a Fury crown'd with snakes,
Not like a formal man.



Messenger. Will't please you hear me?

Cleopatra. I have a mind to strike thee ere thou speak'st:
Yet if thou say Antony lives, is well,
Or friends with Caesar, or not captive to him,
I'll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail
Rich pearls upon thee.



Messenger. Madam, he's well.

Cleopatra. Well said.



Messenger. And friends with Caesar.

Cleopatra. Thou'rt an honest man.



Messenger. Caesar and he are greater friends than ever.

Cleopatra. Make thee a fortune from me.



Messenger. But yet, madam,—

Cleopatra. I do not like 'But yet,' it does allay
The good precedence; fie upon 'But yet'!
'But yet' is as a gaoler to bring forth
Some monstrous malefactor. Prithee, friend,
Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear,
The good and bad together: he's friends with Caesar:
In state of health thou say'st; and thou say'st free.



Messenger. Free, madam! no; I made no such report:
He's bound unto Octavia.

Cleopatra. For what good turn?



Messenger. For the best turn i' the bed.

Cleopatra. I am pale, Charmian.



Messenger. Madam, he's married to Octavia.

Cleopatra. The most infectious pestilence upon thee!



Messenger. Good madam, patience.

Cleopatra. What say you? Hence,
[Strikes him again]
Horrible villain! or I'll spurn thine eyes
Like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head:
[She hales him up and down]
Thou shalt be whipp'd with wire, and stew'd in brine,
Smarting in lingering pickle.



Messenger. Gracious madam,
I that do bring the news made not the match.

Cleopatra. Say 'tis not so, a province I will give thee,
And make thy fortunes proud: the blow thou hadst
Shall make thy peace for moving me to rage;
And I will boot thee with what gift beside
Thy modesty can beg.



Messenger. He's married, madam.

Cleopatra. Rogue, thou hast lived too long.



Charmian. Good madam, keep yourself within yourself:
The man is innocent.

Cleopatra. Some innocents 'scape not the thunderbolt.
Melt Egypt into Nile! and kindly creatures
Turn all to serpents! Call the slave again:
Though I am mad, I will not bite him: call.



Charmian. He is afeard to come.

Cleopatra. I will not hurt him.
These hands do lack nobility, that they strike
A meaner than myself; since I myself
Have given myself the cause.
[Re-enter CHARMIAN and Messenger]
Come hither, sir.
Though it be honest, it is never good
To bring bad news: give to a gracious message.
An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell
Themselves when they be felt.



Messenger. I have done my duty.

Cleopatra. Is he married?
I cannot hate thee worser than I do,
If thou again say 'Yes.'



Messenger. He's married, madam.

Cleopatra. The gods confound thee! dost thou hold there still?



Messenger. Should I lie, madam?

Cleopatra. O, I would thou didst,
So half my Egypt were submerged and made
A cistern for scaled snakes! Go, get thee hence:
Hadst thou Narcissus in thy face, to me
Thou wouldst appear most ugly. He is married?



Messenger. I crave your highness' pardon.

Cleopatra. He is married?



Messenger. Take no offence that I would not offend you:
To punish me for what you make me do.
Seems much unequal: he's married to Octavia.

Cleopatra. O, that his fault should make a knave of thee,
That art not what thou'rt sure of! Get thee hence:
The merchandise which thou hast brought from Rome
Are all too dear for me: lie they upon thy hand,
And be undone by 'em!



Charmian. Good your highness, patience.

Cleopatra. In praising Antony, I have dispraised Caesar.



Charmian. Many times, madam.

Cleopatra. I am paid for't now.
Lead me from hence:
I faint: O Iras, Charmian! 'tis no matter.
Go to the fellow, good Alexas; bid him
Report the feature of Octavia, her years,
Her inclination, let him not leave out
The colour of her hair: bring me word quickly.
Let him for ever go:—let him not—Charmian,
Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon,
The other way's a Mars. Bid you Alexas
Bring me word how tall she is. Pity me, Charmian,
But do not speak to me. Lead me to my chamber.



(stage directions). [Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and ALEXAS]

Cleopatra. Where is the fellow?



Alexas. Half afeard to come.

Cleopatra. Go to, go to.
[Enter the Messenger as before]
Come hither, sir.



Alexas. Good majesty,
Herod of Jewry dare not look upon you
But when you are well pleased.

Cleopatra. That Herod's head
I'll have: but how, when Antony is gone
Through whom I might command it? Come thou near.



Messenger. Most gracious majesty,—

Cleopatra. Didst thou behold Octavia?



Messenger. Ay, dread queen.

Cleopatra. Where?



Messenger. Madam, in Rome;
I look'd her in the face, and saw her led
Between her brother and Mark Antony.

Cleopatra. Is she as tall as me?



Messenger. She is not, madam.

Cleopatra. Didst hear her speak? is she shrill-tongued or low?



Messenger. Madam, I heard her speak; she is low-voiced.

Cleopatra. That's not so good: he cannot like her long.



Charmian. Like her! O Isis! 'tis impossible.

Cleopatra. I think so, Charmian: dull of tongue, and dwarfish!
What majesty is in her gait? Remember,
If e'er thou look'dst on majesty.



Messenger. She creeps:
Her motion and her station are as one;
She shows a body rather than a life,
A statue than a breather.

Cleopatra. Is this certain?



Charmian. Three in Egypt
Cannot make better note.

Cleopatra. He's very knowing;
I do perceive't: there's nothing in her yet:
The fellow has good judgment.



Charmian. Excellent.

Cleopatra. Guess at her years, I prithee.



Messenger. Madam,
She was a widow,—

Cleopatra. Widow! Charmian, hark.



Messenger. And I do think she's thirty.

Cleopatra. Bear'st thou her face in mind? is't long or round?



Messenger. Round even to faultiness.

Cleopatra. For the most part, too, they are foolish that are so.
Her hair, what colour?



Messenger. Brown, madam: and her forehead
As low as she would wish it.

Cleopatra. There's gold for thee.
Thou must not take my former sharpness ill:
I will employ thee back again; I find thee
Most fit for business: go make thee ready;
Our letters are prepared.



Charmian. A proper man.

Cleopatra. Indeed, he is so: I repent me much
That so I harried him. Why, methinks, by him,
This creature's no such thing.



Charmian. Nothing, madam.

Cleopatra. The man hath seen some majesty, and should know.



Charmian. Hath he seen majesty? Isis else defend,
And serving you so long!

Cleopatra. I have one thing more to ask him yet, good Charmian:
But 'tis no matter; thou shalt bring him to me
Where I will write. All may be well enough.



(stage directions). [Enter CLEOPATRA and DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS]

Cleopatra. I will be even with thee, doubt it not.



Domitius Enobarus. But why, why, why?

Cleopatra. Thou hast forspoke my being in these wars,
And say'st it is not fit.



Domitius Enobarus. Well, is it, is it?

Cleopatra. If not denounced against us, why should not we
Be there in person?



Domitius Enobarus. [Aside] Well, I could reply:
If we should serve with horse and mares together,
The horse were merely lost; the mares would bear
A soldier and his horse.

Cleopatra. What is't you say?



Domitius Enobarus. Your presence needs must puzzle Antony;
Take from his heart, take from his brain,
from's time,
What should not then be spared. He is already
Traduced for levity; and 'tis said in Rome
That Photinus an eunuch and your maids
Manage this war.

Cleopatra. Sink Rome, and their tongues rot
That speak against us! A charge we bear i' the war,
And, as the president of my kingdom, will
Appear there for a man. Speak not against it:
I will not stay behind.



Antony. Is it not strange, Canidius,
That from Tarentum and Brundusium
He could so quickly cut the Ionian sea,
And take in Toryne? You have heard on't, sweet?

Cleopatra. Celerity is never more admired
Than by the negligent.



Antony. A good rebuke,
Which might have well becomed the best of men,
To taunt at slackness. Canidius, we
Will fight with him by sea.

Cleopatra. By sea! what else?



Antony. I'll fight at sea.

Cleopatra. I have sixty sails, Caesar none better.



Charmian. Do! why: what else?

Cleopatra. Let me sit down. O Juno!



Antony. Yes, my lord, yes; he at Philippi kept
His sword e'en like a dancer; while I struck
The lean and wrinkled Cassius; and 'twas I
That the mad Brutus ended: he alone
Dealt on lieutenantry, and no practise had
In the brave squares of war: yet now—No matter.

Cleopatra. Ah, stand by.



Iras. Go to him, madam, speak to him:
He is unqualitied with very shame.

Cleopatra. Well then, sustain him: O!



Antony. O, whither hast thou led me, Egypt? See,
How I convey my shame out of thine eyes
By looking back what I have left behind
'Stroy'd in dishonour.

Cleopatra. O my lord, my lord,
Forgive my fearful sails! I little thought
You would have follow'd.



Antony. Egypt, thou knew'st too well
My heart was to thy rudder tied by the strings,
And thou shouldst tow me after: o'er my spirit
Thy full supremacy thou knew'st, and that
Thy beck might from the bidding of the gods
Command me.

Cleopatra. O, my pardon!



Antony. Now I must
To the young man send humble treaties, dodge
And palter in the shifts of lowness; who
With half the bulk o' the world play'd as I pleased,
Making and marring fortunes. You did know
How much you were my conqueror; and that
My sword, made weak by my affection, would
Obey it on all cause.

Cleopatra. Pardon, pardon!




Cleopatra. What shall we do, Enobarbus?



Domitius Enobarus. Think, and die.

Cleopatra. Is Antony or we in fault for this?



Domitius Enobarus. Antony only, that would make his will
Lord of his reason. What though you fled
From that great face of war, whose several ranges
Frighted each other? why should he follow?
The itch of his affection should not then
Have nick'd his captainship; at such a point,
When half to half the world opposed, he being
The meered question: 'twas a shame no less
Than was his loss, to course your flying flags,
And leave his navy gazing.

Cleopatra. Prithee, peace.



Antony. Let her know't.
To the boy Caesar send this grizzled head,
And he will fill thy wishes to the brim
With principalities.

Cleopatra. That head, my lord?



Attendant. A messenger from CAESAR.

Cleopatra. What, no more ceremony? See, my women!
Against the blown rose may they stop their nose
That kneel'd unto the buds. Admit him, sir.



(stage directions). [Enter THYREUS]

Cleopatra. Caesar's will?



Thyreus. Hear it apart.

Cleopatra. None but friends: say boldly.



Thyreus. So.
Thus then, thou most renown'd: Caesar entreats,
Not to consider in what case thou stand'st,
Further than he is Caesar.

Cleopatra. Go on: right royal.



Thyreus. He knows that you embrace not Antony
As you did love, but as you fear'd him.

Cleopatra. O!



Thyreus. The scars upon your honour, therefore, he
Does pity, as constrained blemishes,
Not as deserved.

Cleopatra. He is a god, and knows
What is most right: mine honour was not yielded,
But conquer'd merely.



Thyreus. Shall I say to Caesar
What you require of him? for he partly begs
To be desired to give. It much would please him,
That of his fortunes you should make a staff
To lean upon: but it would warm his spirits,
To hear from me you had left Antony,
And put yourself under his shrowd,
The universal landlord.

Cleopatra. What's your name?



Thyreus. My name is Thyreus.

Cleopatra. Most kind messenger,
Say to great Caesar this: in deputation
I kiss his conquering hand: tell him, I am prompt
To lay my crown at 's feet, and there to kneel:
Tell him from his all-obeying breath I hear
The doom of Egypt.



Thyreus. 'Tis your noblest course.
Wisdom and fortune combating together,
If that the former dare but what it can,
No chance may shake it. Give me grace to lay
My duty on your hand.

Cleopatra. Your Caesar's father oft,
When he hath mused of taking kingdoms in,
Bestow'd his lips on that unworthy place,
As it rain'd kisses.



Antony. Tug him away: being whipp'd,
Bring him again: this Jack of Caesar's shall
Bear us an errand to him.
[Exeunt Attendants with THYREUS]
You were half blasted ere I knew you: ha!
Have I my pillow left unpress'd in Rome,
Forborne the getting of a lawful race,
And by a gem of women, to be abused
By one that looks on feeders?

Cleopatra. Good my lord,—



Antony. You have been a boggler ever:
But when we in our viciousness grow hard—
O misery on't!—the wise gods seel our eyes;
In our own filth drop our clear judgments; make us
Adore our errors; laugh at's, while we strut
To our confusion.

Cleopatra. O, is't come to this?



Antony. I found you as a morsel cold upon
Dead Caesar's trencher; nay, you were a fragment
Of Cneius Pompey's; besides what hotter hours,
Unregister'd in vulgar fame, you have
Luxuriously pick'd out: for, I am sure,
Though you can guess what temperance should be,
You know not what it is.

Cleopatra. Wherefore is this?



(stage directions). [Exit THYREUS]

Cleopatra. Have you done yet?



Antony. Alack, our terrene moon
Is now eclipsed; and it portends alone
The fall of Antony!

Cleopatra. I must stay his time.



Antony. To flatter Caesar, would you mingle eyes
With one that ties his points?

Cleopatra. Not know me yet?



Antony. Cold-hearted toward me?

Cleopatra. Ah, dear, if I be so,
From my cold heart let heaven engender hail,
And poison it in the source; and the first stone
Drop in my neck: as it determines, so
Dissolve my life! The next Caesarion smite!
Till by degrees the memory of my womb,
Together with my brave Egyptians all,
By the discandying of this pelleted storm,
Lie graveless, till the flies and gnats of Nile
Have buried them for prey!



Antony. I am satisfied.
Caesar sits down in Alexandria; where
I will oppose his fate. Our force by land
Hath nobly held; our sever'd navy too
Have knit again, and fleet, threatening most sea-like.
Where hast thou been, my heart? Dost thou hear, lady?
If from the field I shall return once more
To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood;
I and my sword will earn our chronicle:
There's hope in't yet.

Cleopatra. That's my brave lord!



Antony. I will be treble-sinew'd, hearted, breathed,
And fight maliciously: for when mine hours
Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives
Of me for jests; but now I'll set my teeth,
And send to darkness all that stop me. Come,
Let's have one other gaudy night: call to me
All my sad captains; fill our bowls once more;
Let's mock the midnight bell.

Cleopatra. It is my birth-day:
I had thought to have held it poor: but, since my lord
Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra.



Antony. We will yet do well.

Cleopatra. Call all his noble captains to my lord.



Antony. Well said; come on.
Call forth my household servants: let's to-night
Be bounteous at our meal.
[Enter three or four Servitors]
Give me thy hand,
Thou hast been rightly honest;—so hast thou;—
Thou,—and thou,—and thou:—you have served me well,
And kings have been your fellows.

Cleopatra. [Aside to DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS] What means this?



Antony. Well, my good fellows, wait on me to-night:
Scant not my cups; and make as much of me
As when mine empire was your fellow too,
And suffer'd my command.

Cleopatra. [Aside to DOMITIUS ENOBARBUS] What does he mean?



Antony. Eros! mine armour, Eros!

Cleopatra. Sleep a little.



Antony. No, my chuck. Eros, come; mine armour, Eros!
[Enter EROS with armour]
Come good fellow, put mine iron on:
If fortune be not ours to-day, it is
Because we brave her: come.

Cleopatra. Nay, I'll help too.
What's this for?



Antony. Ah, let be, let be! thou art
The armourer of my heart: false, false; this, this.

Cleopatra. Sooth, la, I'll help: thus it must be.



Eros. Briefly, sir.

Cleopatra. Is not this buckled well?



Charmian. Please you, retire to your chamber.

Cleopatra. Lead me.
He goes forth gallantly. That he and Caesar might
Determine this great war in single fight!
Then Antony,—but now—Well, on.



Antony. We have beat him to his camp: run one before,
And let the queen know of our gests. To-morrow,
Before the sun shall see 's, we'll spill the blood
That has to-day escaped. I thank you all;
For doughty-handed are you, and have fought
Not as you served the cause, but as 't had been
Each man's like mine; you have shown all Hectors.
Enter the city, clip your wives, your friends,
Tell them your feats; whilst they with joyful tears
Wash the congealment from your wounds, and kiss
The honour'd gashes whole.
Give me thy hand
[Enter CLEOPATRA, attended]
To this great fairy I'll commend thy acts,
Make her thanks bless thee.
O thou day o' the world,
Chain mine arm'd neck; leap thou, attire and all,
Through proof of harness to my heart, and there
Ride on the pants triumphing!

Cleopatra. Lord of lords!
O infinite virtue, comest thou smiling from
The world's great snare uncaught?



Antony. My nightingale,
We have beat them to their beds. What, girl!
though grey
Do something mingle with our younger brown, yet ha' we
A brain that nourishes our nerves, and can
Get goal for goal of youth. Behold this man;
Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand:
Kiss it, my warrior: he hath fought to-day
As if a god, in hate of mankind, had
Destroy'd in such a shape.

Cleopatra. I'll give thee, friend,
An armour all of gold; it was a king's.



Antony. All is lost;
This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me:
My fleet hath yielded to the foe; and yonder
They cast their caps up and carouse together
Like friends long lost. Triple-turn'd whore!
'tis thou
Hast sold me to this novice; and my heart
Makes only wars on thee. Bid them all fly;
For when I am revenged upon my charm,
I have done all. Bid them all fly; begone.
O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more:
Fortune and Antony part here; even here
Do we shake hands. All come to this? The hearts
That spaniel'd me at heels, to whom I gave
Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets
On blossoming Caesar; and this pine is bark'd,
That overtopp'd them all. Betray'd I am:
O this false soul of Egypt! this grave charm,—
Whose eye beck'd forth my wars, and call'd them home;
Whose bosom was my crownet, my chief end,—
Like a right gipsy, hath, at fast and loose,
Beguiled me to the very heart of loss.
What, Eros, Eros!
Ah, thou spell! Avaunt!

Cleopatra. Why is my lord enraged against his love?



(stage directions). [Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN]

Cleopatra. Help me, my women! O, he is more mad
Than Telamon for his shield; the boar of Thessaly
Was never so emboss'd.



Charmian. To the monument!
There lock yourself, and send him word you are dead.
The soul and body rive not more in parting
Than greatness going off.

Cleopatra. To the monument!
Mardian, go tell him I have slain myself;
Say, that the last I spoke was 'Antony,'
And word it, prithee, piteously: hence, Mardian,
And bring me how he takes my death.
To the monument!



(stage directions). [Enter CLEOPATRA and her maids aloft, with]

Cleopatra. O Charmian, I will never go from hence.



Charmian. Be comforted, dear madam.

Cleopatra. 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
As that which makes it.
[Enter, below, DIOMEDES]
How now! is he dead?



(stage directions). [Enter, below, MARK ANTONY, borne by the Guard]

Cleopatra. O sun,
Burn the great sphere thou movest in!
darkling stand
The varying shore o' the world. O Antony,
Antony, Antony! Help, Charmian, help, Iras, help;
Help, friends below; let's draw him hither.



Antony. Peace!
Not Caesar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony,
But Antony's hath triumph'd on itself.

Cleopatra. So it should be, that none but Antony
Should conquer Antony; but woe 'tis so!



Antony. I am dying, Egypt, dying; only
I here importune death awhile, until
Of many thousand kisses the poor last
I lay up thy lips.

Cleopatra. I dare not, dear,—
Dear my lord, pardon,—I dare not,
Lest I be taken: not the imperious show
Of the full-fortuned Caesar ever shall
Be brooch'd with me; if knife, drugs,
serpents, have
Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe:
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.



Antony. O, quick, or I am gone.

Cleopatra. Here's sport indeed! How heavy weighs my lord!
Our strength is all gone into heaviness,
That makes the weight: had I great Juno's power,
The strong-wing'd Mercury should fetch thee up,
And set thee by Jove's side. Yet come a little,—
Wishes were ever fools,—O, come, come, come;
[They heave MARK ANTONY aloft to CLEOPATRA]
And welcome, welcome! die where thou hast lived:
Quicken with kissing: had my lips that power,
Thus would I wear them out.



Antony. I am dying, Egypt, dying:
Give me some wine, and let me speak a little.

Cleopatra. No, let me speak; and let me rail so high,
That the false housewife Fortune break her wheel,
Provoked by my offence.



Antony. One word, sweet queen:
Of Caesar seek your honour, with your safety. O!

Cleopatra. They do not go together.



Antony. Gentle, hear me:
None about Caesar trust but Proculeius.

Cleopatra. My resolution and my hands I'll trust;
None about Caesar.



Antony. 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 lived, the greatest prince o' the world,
The noblest; and do now not basely die,
Not 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.

Cleopatra. Noblest of men, woo't die?
Hast thou no care of me? shall I abide
In this dull world, which in thy absence is
No better than a sty? O, see, my women,
The crown o' the earth doth melt. My lord!
O, wither'd is the garland of the war,
The soldier's pole is fall'n: young boys and girls
Are level now with men; the odds is gone,
And there is nothing left remarkable
Beneath the visiting moon.



Charmian. Peace, peace, Iras!

Cleopatra. No more, but e'en a woman, and commanded
By such poor passion as the maid that milks
And does the meanest chares. It were for me
To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods;
To tell them that this world did equal theirs
Till they had stol'n our jewel. All's but naught;
Patience is scottish, and impatience does
Become a dog that's mad: then is it sin
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,
Our lamp is spent, it's out! Good sirs, take heart:
We'll bury him; and then, what's brave,
what's noble,
Let's do it after the high Roman fashion,
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.



(stage directions). [Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, and IRAS]

Cleopatra. My desolation does begin to make
A better life. 'Tis paltry to be Caesar;
Not being Fortune, he's but Fortune's knave,
A minister of her will: and it is great
To do that thing that ends all other deeds;
Which shackles accidents and bolts up change;
Which sleeps, and never palates more the dug,
The beggar's nurse and Caesar's.
[Enter, to the gates of the monument, PROCULEIUS,]
GALLUS and Soldiers]



Proculeius. Caesar sends greeting to the Queen of Egypt;
And bids thee study on what fair demands
Thou mean'st to have him grant thee.

Cleopatra. What's thy name?



Proculeius. My name is Proculeius.

Cleopatra. Antony
Did tell me of you, bade me trust you; but
I do not greatly care to be deceived,
That have no use for trusting. If your master
Would have a queen his beggar, you must tell him,
That majesty, to keep decorum, must
No less beg than a kingdom: if he please
To give me conquer'd Egypt for my son,
He gives me so much of mine own, as I
Will kneel to him with thanks.



Proculeius. Be of good cheer;
You're fall'n into a princely hand, fear nothing:
Make your full reference freely to my lord,
Who is so full of grace, that it flows over
On all that need: let me report to him
Your sweet dependency; and you shall find
A conqueror that will pray in aid for kindness,
Where he for grace is kneel'd to.

Cleopatra. Pray you, tell him
I am his fortune's vassal, and I send him
The greatness he has got. I hourly learn
A doctrine of obedience; and would gladly
Look him i' the face.



Charmian. O Cleopatra! thou art taken, queen:

Cleopatra. Quick, quick, good hands.



Proculeius. Hold, worthy lady, hold:
[Seizes and disarms her]
Do not yourself such wrong, who are in this
Relieved, but not betray'd.

Cleopatra. What, of death too,
That rids our dogs of languish?



Proculeius. Cleopatra,
Do not abuse my master's bounty by
The undoing of yourself: let the world see
His nobleness well acted, which your death
Will never let come forth.

Cleopatra. Where art thou, death?
Come hither, come! come, come, and take a queen
Worthy many babes and beggars!



Proculeius. O, temperance, lady!

Cleopatra. Sir, I will eat no meat, I'll not drink, sir;
If idle talk will once be necessary,
I'll not sleep neither: this mortal house I'll ruin,
Do Caesar what he can. Know, sir, that I
Will not wait pinion'd at your master's court;
Nor once be chastised with the sober eye
Of dull Octavia. Shall they hoist me up
And show me to the shouting varletry
Of censuring Rome? Rather a ditch in Egypt
Be gentle grave unto me! rather on Nilus' mud
Lay me stark naked, and let the water-flies
Blow me into abhorring! rather make
My country's high pyramides my gibbet,
And hang me up in chains!



Proculeius. So, Dolabella,
It shall content me best: be gentle to her.
To Caesar I will speak what you shall please,
If you'll employ me to him.

Cleopatra. Say, I would die.



Dolabella. Most noble empress, you have heard of me?

Cleopatra. I cannot tell.



Dolabella. Assuredly you know me.

Cleopatra. No matter, sir, what I have heard or known.
You laugh when boys or women tell their dreams;
Is't not your trick?



Dolabella. I understand not, madam.

Cleopatra. I dream'd there was an Emperor Antony:
O, such another sleep, that I might see
But such another man!



Dolabella. If it might please ye,—

Cleopatra. His face was as the heavens; and therein stuck
A sun and moon, which kept their course,
and lighted
The little O, the earth.



Dolabella. Most sovereign creature,—

Cleopatra. His legs bestrid the ocean: his rear'd arm
Crested the world: his voice was propertied
As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends;
But when he meant to quail and shake the orb,
He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty,
There was no winter in't; an autumn 'twas
That grew the more by reaping: his delights
Were dolphin-like; they show'd his back above
The element they lived in: in his livery
Walk'd crowns and crownets; realms and islands were
As plates dropp'd from his pocket.



Dolabella. Cleopatra!

Cleopatra. Think you there was, or might be, such a man
As this I dream'd of?



Dolabella. Gentle madam, no.

Cleopatra. You lie, up to the hearing of the gods.
But, if there be, or ever were, one such,
It's past the size of dreaming: nature wants stuff
To vie strange forms with fancy; yet, to imagine
And Antony, were nature's piece 'gainst fancy,
Condemning shadows quite.



Dolabella. Hear me, good madam.
Your loss is as yourself, great; and you bear it
As answering to the weight: would I might never
O'ertake pursued success, but I do feel,
By the rebound of yours, a grief that smites
My very heart at root.

Cleopatra. I thank you, sir,
Know you what Caesar means to do with me?



Dolabella. I am loath to tell you what I would you knew.

Cleopatra. Nay, pray you, sir,—



Dolabella. Though he be honourable,—

Cleopatra. He'll lead me, then, in triumph?



Octavius. Arise, you shall not kneel:
I pray you, rise; rise, Egypt.

Cleopatra. Sir, the gods
Will have it thus; my master and my lord
I must obey.



Octavius. Take to you no hard thoughts:
The record of what injuries you did us,
Though written in our flesh, we shall remember
As things but done by chance.

Cleopatra. Sole sir o' the world,
I cannot project mine own cause so well
To make it clear; but do confess I have
Been laden with like frailties which before
Have often shamed our sex.



Octavius. Cleopatra, know,
We will extenuate rather than enforce:
If you apply yourself to our intents,
Which towards you are most gentle, you shall find
A benefit in this change; but if you seek
To lay on me a cruelty, by taking
Antony's course, you shall bereave yourself
Of my good purposes, and put your children
To that destruction which I'll guard them from,
If thereon you rely. I'll take my leave.

Cleopatra. And may, through all the world: 'tis yours; and we,
Your scutcheons and your signs of conquest, shall
Hang in what place you please. Here, my good lord.



Octavius. You shall advise me in all for Cleopatra.

Cleopatra. This is the brief of money, plate, and jewels,
I am possess'd of: 'tis exactly valued;
Not petty things admitted. Where's Seleucus?



Seleucus. Here, madam.

Cleopatra. This is my treasurer: let him speak, my lord,
Upon his peril, that I have reserved
To myself nothing. Speak the truth, Seleucus.



Seleucus. Madam,
I had rather seal my lips, than, to my peril,
Speak that which is not.

Cleopatra. What have I kept back?



Octavius. Nay, blush not, Cleopatra; I approve
Your wisdom in the deed.

Cleopatra. See, Caesar! O, behold,
How pomp is follow'd! mine will now be yours;
And, should we shift estates, yours would be mine.
The ingratitude of this Seleucus does
Even make me wild: O slave, of no more trust
Than love that's hired! What, goest thou back? thou shalt
Go back, I warrant thee; but I'll catch thine eyes,
Though they had wings: slave, soulless villain, dog!
O rarely base!



Octavius. Good queen, let us entreat you.

Cleopatra. O Caesar, what a wounding shame is this,
That thou, vouchsafing here to visit me,
Doing the honour of thy lordliness
To one so meek, that mine own servant should
Parcel the sum of my disgraces by
Addition of his envy! Say, good Caesar,
That I some lady trifles have reserved,
Immoment toys, things of such dignity
As we greet modern friends withal; and say,
Some nobler token I have kept apart
For Livia and Octavia, to induce
Their mediation; must I be unfolded
With one that I have bred? The gods! it smites me
Beneath the fall I have.
Prithee, go hence;
Or I shall show the cinders of my spirits
Through the ashes of my chance: wert thou a man,
Thou wouldst have mercy on me.



(stage directions). [Exit SELEUCUS]

Cleopatra. Be it known, that we, the greatest, are misthought
For things that others do; and, when we fall,
We answer others' merits in our name,
Are therefore to be pitied.



Octavius. Cleopatra,
Not what you have reserved, nor what acknowledged,
Put we i' the roll of conquest: still be't yours,
Bestow it at your pleasure; and believe,
Caesar's no merchant, to make prize with you
Of things that merchants sold. Therefore be cheer'd;
Make not your thoughts your prisons: no, dear queen;
For we intend so to dispose you as
Yourself shall give us counsel. Feed, and sleep:
Our care and pity is so much upon you,
That we remain your friend; and so, adieu.

Cleopatra. My master, and my lord!



(stage directions). [Flourish. Exeunt OCTAVIUS CAESAR and his train]

Cleopatra. He words me, girls, he words me, that I should not
Be noble to myself: but, hark thee, Charmian.



Iras. Finish, good lady; the bright day is done,
And we are for the dark.

Cleopatra. Hie thee again:
I have spoke already, and it is provided;
Go put it to the haste.



(stage directions). [Exit]

Cleopatra. Dolabella!



Dolabella. Madam, as thereto sworn by your command,
Which my love makes religion to obey,
I tell you this: Caesar through Syria
Intends his journey; and within three days
You with your children will he send before:
Make your best use of this: I have perform'd
Your pleasure and my promise.

Cleopatra. Dolabella,
I shall remain your debtor.



Dolabella. I your servant,
Adieu, good queen; I must attend on Caesar.

Cleopatra. Farewell, and thanks.
Now, Iras, what think'st thou?
Thou, an Egyptian puppet, shalt be shown
In Rome, as well as I. mechanic slaves
With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall
Uplift us to the view; in their thick breaths,
Rank of gross diet, shall be enclouded,
And forced to drink their vapour.



Iras. The gods forbid!

Cleopatra. Nay, 'tis most certain, Iras: saucy lictors
Will catch at us, like strumpets; and scald rhymers
Ballad us out o' tune: the quick comedians
Extemporally will stage us, and present
Our Alexandrian revels; Antony
Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see
Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness
I' the posture of a whore.



Iras. O the good gods!

Cleopatra. Nay, that's certain.



Iras. I'll never see 't; for, I am sure, my nails
Are stronger than mine eyes.

Cleopatra. Why, that's the way
To fool their preparation, and to conquer
Their most absurd intents.
[Re-enter CHARMIAN]
Now, Charmian!
Show me, my women, like a queen: go fetch
My best attires: I am again for Cydnus,
To meet Mark Antony: sirrah Iras, go.
Now, noble Charmian, we'll dispatch indeed;
And, when thou hast done this chare, I'll give thee leave
To play till doomsday. Bring our crown and all.
Wherefore's this noise?



Guard. Here is a rural fellow
That will not be denied your highness presence:
He brings you figs.

Cleopatra. Let him come in.
[Exit Guardsman]
What poor an instrument
May do a noble deed! he brings me liberty.
My resolution's placed, and I have nothing
Of woman in me: now from head to foot
I am marble-constant; now the fleeting moon
No planet is of mine.



Guard. This is the man.

Cleopatra. Avoid, and leave him.
[Exit Guardsman]
Hast thou the pretty worm of Nilus there,
That kills and pains not?



Clown. Truly, I have him: but I would not be the party
that should desire you to touch him, for his biting
is immortal; those that do die of it do seldom or
never recover.

Cleopatra. Rememberest thou any that have died on't?



Clown. Very many, men and women too. I heard of one of
them no longer than yesterday: a very honest woman,
but something given to lie; as a woman should not
do, but in the way of honesty: how she died of the
biting of it, what pain she felt: truly, she makes
a very good report o' the worm; but he that will
believe all that they say, shall never be saved by
half that they do: but this is most fallible, the
worm's an odd worm.

Cleopatra. Get thee hence; farewell.



(stage directions). [Setting down his basket]

Cleopatra. Farewell.



Clown. You must think this, look you, that the worm will
do his kind.

Cleopatra. Ay, ay; farewell.



Clown. Look you, the worm is not to be trusted but in the
keeping of wise people; for, indeed, there is no
goodness in worm.

Cleopatra. Take thou no care; it shall be heeded.



Clown. Very good. Give it nothing, I pray you, for it is
not worth the feeding.

Cleopatra. Will it eat me?



Clown. You must not think I am so simple but I know the
devil himself will not eat a woman: I know that a
woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her
not. But, truly, these same whoreson devils do the
gods great harm in their women; for in every ten
that they make, the devils mar five.

Cleopatra. Well, get thee gone; farewell.



(stage directions). [Re-enter IRAS with a robe, crown, &c]

Cleopatra. Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have
Immortal longings in me: now no more
The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip:
Yare, yare, good Iras; quick. Methinks I hear
Antony call; I see him rouse himself
To praise my noble act; I hear him mock
The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men
To excuse their after wrath: husband, I come:
Now to that name my courage prove my title!
I am fire and air; my other elements
I give to baser life. So; have you done?
Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips.
Farewell, kind Charmian; Iras, long farewell.
[Kisses them. IRAS falls and dies]
Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall?
If thou and nature can so gently part,
The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch,
Which hurts, and is desired. Dost thou lie still?
If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world
It is not worth leave-taking.



Charmian. Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain; that I may say,
The gods themselves do weep!

Cleopatra. This proves me base:
If she first meet the curled Antony,
He'll make demand of her, and spend that kiss
Which is my heaven to have. Come, thou
mortal wretch,
[To an asp, which she applies to her breast]
With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate
Of life at once untie: poor venomous fool
Be angry, and dispatch. O, couldst thou speak,
That I might hear thee call great Caesar ass



Charmian. O eastern star!

Cleopatra. Peace, peace!
Dost thou not see my baby at my breast,
That sucks the nurse asleep?



Charmian. O, break! O, break!

Cleopatra. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle,—
O Antony!—Nay, I will take thee too.
[Applying another asp to her arm]
What should I stay—

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