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.
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, couldst thou speak,
That I might hear thee call great Caesar ass
Unpolicied!
Peace, peace!
Dost thou not see my baby at my breast,
That sucks the nurse asleep?
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—Dies.
In this vile world? So fare thee well.
Now boast thee, death, in thy possession lies
A lass unparallel’d. Downy windows, close;
And golden Phoebus never be beheld
Of eyes again so royal! Your crown’s awry;
I’ll mend it, and then play.
Too slow a messenger. Applies an asp.
O, come apace, dispatch! I partly feel thee.
It is well done, and fitting for a princess
Descended of so many royal kings.
Ah, soldier! Dies.
Caesar, thy thoughts
Touch their effects in this: thyself art coming
To see perform’d the dreaded act which thou
So sought’st to hinder. Within “A way there, a way for Caesar!”
O sir, you are too sure an augurer;
That you did fear is done.
Bravest at the last,
She levell’d at our purposes, and, being royal,
Took her own way. The manner of their deaths?
I do not see them bleed.
A simple countryman, that brought her figs:
This was his basket.
O Caesar,
This Charmian lived but now; she stood and spake:
I found her trimming up the diadem
On her dead mistress; tremblingly she stood
And on the sudden dropp’d.
O noble weakness!
If they had swallow’d poison, ’twould appear
By external swelling: but she looks like sleep,
As she would catch another Antony
In her strong toil of grace.
Here, on her breast,
There is a vent of blood and something blown:
The like is on her arm.
This is an aspic’s trail: and these fig-leaves
Have slime upon them, such as the aspic leaves
Upon the caves of Nile.
Most probable
That so she died; for her physician tells me
She hath pursued conclusions infinite
Of easy ways to die. Take up her bed;
And bear her women from the monument:
She shall be buried by her Antony:
No grave upon the earth shall clip in it
A pair so famous. High events as these
Strike those that make them; and their story is
No less in pity than his glory which
Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall
In solemn show attend this funeral;
And then to Rome. Come, Dolabella, see
High order in this great solemnity. Exeunt.
Colophon
Antony and Cleopatra
was published in 1606 by
William Shakespeare.
This ebook was produced for
Standard Ebooks
by
Emma Sweeney,
and is based on a transcription produced in 1993 by
Jeremy Hylton
for the
Massachusetts Institute of Technology
and on digital scans available at the
HathiTrust Digital Library.
The cover page is adapted from
The Meeting of Antony and Cleopatra,
a painting completed in 1885 by
Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema.
The cover and title pages feature the
League Spartan and Sorts Mill Goudy
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Uncopyright
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