Act IV, Scene 15

The same. A monument.

[Enter CLEOPATRA and her maids aloft, with] [p]CHARMIAN and IRAS]

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

• Charmian. Be comforted, dear madam.

• Cleopatra. No, I will not: 3165
  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] 3170
  How now! is he dead?

• Diomedes. His death's upon him, but not dead.
  Look out o' the other side your monument;
  His guard have brought him thither.

[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; 3180
  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 3185
  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. 3190

• 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, 3195
  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,— 3200
  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, 3205
  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] 3210
  And welcome, welcome! die where thou hast lived:
  Quicken with kissing: had my lips that power,
  Thus would I wear them out.

• All. A heavy sight!

• Antony. I am dying, Egypt, dying: 3215
  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: 3220
  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; 3225
  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, 3230
  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. 3235

• 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,
  [MARK ANTONY dies] 3240
  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 3245
  Beneath the visiting moon.

[Faints]

• Charmian. O, quietness, lady!

• Iras. She is dead too, our sovereign.

• Charmian. Lady! 3250

• Iras. Madam!

• Charmian. O madam, madam, madam!

• Iras. Royal Egypt, Empress!

• Charmian. Peace, peace, Iras!

• Cleopatra. No more, but e'en a woman, and commanded 3255
  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; 3260
  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! 3265
  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, 3270
  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.

[Exeunt; those above bearing off MARK ANTONY's body]