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Sc. II

Though they had wings: Slave, soulless Villain, Dog!
O rarely base!

Good Queen, let us entreat you.
CLEO. O Cæsar, 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 Cæsar,
That I some lady trifles have reserv'd,
Immoment toys, things of such dignity
As we greet modern1 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. [to SELEUCUS.] Pr'ythee, go



Or I shall shew the cinders of my spirits

Through the ashes of my chance: wert thou a man,
Thou would'st have mercy on me.


Forbear, Seleucus.

[Exit SELEUCus.

CLEO. Be it known that we, the greatest, are mis


For things that others do; and, when we fall,

We answer others' merits in our name;

Are therefore to be pitied.



Not what you have reserv'd, nor what acknowledg'd,
Put we i' the roll of conquest: still be 't your's,

Bestow it at your pleasure; and believe,
Cæsar's no merchant, to make prize with you


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.
CLEO. My master, and my Lord!

1 ordinary.

2 fortune.

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

s ill-deservings.


Not so.



[Flourish. Exeunt CESAR and his Train. CLEO. He words me, Girls, he words me, that I should not Be noble to myself: but, hark thee, Charmian. [whispers CHARMIAN. IRAS. Finish, good Lady; the bright day is done, And we are for the dark.


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

Madam, I will.


DOL. Where is the Queen?


Behold, Sir.



DOL. Madam, as thereto sworn by your command,
Which my love makes religion to obey,
I tell you this: Cæsar 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.





I shall remain your debtor.
I your servant.
Adieu, good Queen; I must attend on Cæsar.
CLEO. Farewell, and thanks.
Now, Iras, what think'st thou ?
Thou, an Egyptian puppet, shalt be shewn
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 we be enclouded,
And forc'd to drink their vapour.
The Gods forbid !
CLEO. 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


Sc. II

Sc. II

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.

O the good Gods!

CLEO. Nay, that's certain.
IRAS. I'll never see 't; for I am sure my nails
Are stronger than mine eyes.
Why, that's the way
To fool their preparation, and to conquer
Their most absurd intents.

Re-enter CHARMIAN.

Now, Charmian!

Shew 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? [Exit IRAS. A noise within.
Enter a Guardsman.


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

CLEO. Let him come in.


[Exit Guardsman.
What poor an instrument
May do a noble deed! he brings me liberty.
My resolution's plac'd, 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.

Re-enter Guardsman, with Clown, bringing in a basket.
This is the man.
CLEO. 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.


CLEO. Remember'st 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 sav'd by half that they do: but this is most fallible, the worm's an odd worm.

CLEO. Get thee hence; farewell.

CLOWN. I wish you all joy of the worm.

[setting down his basket.

CLEO. Farewell.

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


CLEO. 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 the worm.

CLEO. Take thou no care; it shall be heeded.
CLOWN. Very good. Give it nothing, I pray you, for it
is not worth the feeding.

CLEO. 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.

CLEO. Well, get thee gone; farewell.
CLOWN. Yes, forsooth; I wish you joy o' the worm. [exit.

Re-enter IRAs, with a robe, crown, etc.

CLEO. 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:


Sc. II


Sc. II

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 Cæsar, 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 desir'd. Dost thou lie still?
If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the World
It is not worth leave-taking.

CHAR. Dissolve, thick Cloud, and rain; that I may say


The Gods themselves do weep!
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, could'st thou speak,
That I might hear thee call great Cæsar ass

O eastern Star!




Peace, peace
Dost thou not see my baby at my breast,
That sucks the nurse asleep?
O, break! O, break!
CLEO. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle-
O Antony!-Nay, I will take thee too.


[applying another asp to her arm. [dies.

What should I stay-
CHAR. In this vile World? So, fare thee well.
Now boast thee, Death, in thy possession lies

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