 | Antony and Cleopatra |  |
ACT V.
SCENE I.
Camp before Alexandria.Enter Cæsar, with Dolabella, Agrippa, Mecænas, Gallus, Proculeius, and Others.
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Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield;
Being so frustrated, tell him, he mocks
The pauses that he makes.
Dol.
—Cæsar, I shall.
[Exit Dolabella.
Enter Dercetas, with Antony's Sword.
Cæs.
Wherefore is that? and what art thou, that dar'st
Appear thus to us?
Der.
—I am call'd Dercetas;
Mark Antony I serv'd, who best was worthy
Best to be serv'd: whilst he stood up, and spoke,
He was my master; and I wore my life,
To spend upon his haters: If thou please
To take me to thee, as I was to him
I'll be to Cæsar; if thou pleasest not,
I yield thee up my life.
Cæs.
—What is't thou say'st?
Der.
I say, o Cæsar, Antony is dead.
Cæs.
The breaking of so great a thing should make
A greater crack in nature: the round world
Should have shook lions into civil streets,
And citizens to their dens: The death of Antony
Is not a single doom; in that name lay
A moiety of the world.
Der.
—He is dead, Cæsar;
Not by a publick minister of justice,
Nor by a hired knife; but that self hand,
Which writ his honour in the acts it did,
Hath, with the courage which the heart did lend it,
Splitted the heart itself. This † is his sword,
I rob'd his wound of it; behold it stain'd
With his most noble blood.
Cæs.
—Look you sad, friends?
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To wash the eyes of Kings.
Agr.
—And strange it is,
That nature must compell us to lament
Our most persisted deeds.
Mec.
—His taints and honours
Weigh'd equal with him.
Agr.
—A rarer spirit never
Did steer humanity: but you, gods, will give us
Some faults to mark us men. Cæsar is touch'd.
Mec.
When such a spacious mirror's set before him,
He needs must see himself.
Cæs.
—O Antony,
I have follow'd thee to this;—But we do launch
Disease in our bodies. I must perforce
Have shewn to thee such a declining day,
Or look on thine; we could not stall together
In the whole world: But yet let me lament,
With tears as sovereign as the blood of hearts,
That thou, my brother, my competitor
In top of all design, my mate in empire,
Friend and companion in the front of war,
The arm of mine own body, and the heart
Where mine his thoughts did kindle,—that our stars,
Unreconciliable, should divide
Our equalness to this.—Hear me, good friends,—
Enter Mardian.
But I will tell you at some meeter season;
The business of this man looks out of him,
We'll hear him what he says.—Whence are you, sir?
Mar.
A poor Egyptian: The Queen my mistress,
Confin'd in all she has, her monument,
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That she preparedly may frame herself
To the way she's forc'd to.
Cæs.
—Bid her have good heart;
She soon shall know of us, by some of ours,
How honourably and how kindly we
Determin'd have for her; for Cæsar cannot
Leave to be gentle.
Mar.
—So the gods preserve thee!
[Exit.
Cæs.
Come hither, Proculeius; Go, and say
We purpose her no shame: give her what comforts
The quality of her passion shall require;
Left, in her greatness, by some mortal stroke
She do defeat us: for her life in Rome
Would be eternaling our triumph: Go;
And, with your speediest, bring us what she says,
And how you find of her.
Pro.
—Cæsar, I shall.
[Exit.
Cæs.
Gallus, go you along. [Exit Gal.]
Where's Dolabella,
To second Proculeius?
all.
—Dolabella!
Cæs.
Let him alone, for I remember now
How he's employ'd; he shall in time be ready.
Go with me to my tent: where you shall see,
How hardly I was drawn into this war;
How calm and gentle I proceeded still
In all my writings: Go with me, and see
What I can shew in this.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Alexandria. A Room in the Monument.Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, and Iras.
Cle.
My desolation does begin to make
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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 dung,
The beggar's nurse and Cæsar's.
Enter Proculeius, and Gallus, with Soldiers, to the Door of the Monument, without.
Pro.
Cæsar sends greeting to the Queen of Egypt;
And bids thee study on what fair demands
Thou mean'st to have him grant thee.
Cle.
—What's thy name?
Pro.
My name is Proculeius.
Cle.
—Antony
Did tell me of you, bad me trust you; but
I do not greatly care to be deceiv'd,
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.
Pro.
—Be of good cheer;
You are 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 dependancy; and you shall find
A conqueror, that will pray in aid for kindness,
Where he for grace is kneel'd to.
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—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.
Pro.
—This I'll report, dear lady.
Have comfort; for, I know, your plight is pity'd
Of him that caus'd it. Fare you well.—“Hark, Gallus!”
“You see how easily she may be surpriz'd;”
“Guard her 'till Cæsar come.”
[Exit Proculeius.
Gallus maintains Converse with Cleopatra. Re-enter, into the Monument, from behind, Proculeius, and Soldiers, hastily.
Ira.
—O royal Queen!
Cha.
O Cleopatra! thou art taken, Queen!
Cle.
Quick, quick, good hands.
[drawing a Dagger.
Pro.
—Hold, worthy lady, hold:
[staying her.
Do not yourself such wrong; who are in this
Reliev'd, but not betray'd.
Cle.
—What, of death too,
That rids our dogs of languish?
Pro.
—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.
Cle.
—Where art thou, death?
Come hither, come! come, come, and take a Queen
Worth many babes and beggars!
Pro.
—O, temperance, lady.
Cle.
Sir, I will eat no meat, I'll not drink, sir;
If idle talk will once be necessary,
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Do Cæsar what he can. Know, sir, that I
Will not wait pinion'd at your master's court;
Nor once be chastis'd with the sober eye
Of dull Octavia. Shall they hoist me up,
And shew 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.
Pro.
—You do extend
These thoughts of horror farther than you shall
Find cause for it in Cæsar.
Enter Dolabella.
Dol.
—Proculeius,
What thou hast done thy master Cæsar knows,
And he hath sent for thee: as for the Queen,
I'll take her to my guard.
Pro.
—So, Dolabella,
It shall content me best: be gentle to her.—
To Cæsar I will speak what you shall please,
If you'll employ me to him.
Cle.
—Say, I would die.
[Exeunt Proculeius, and Soldiers.
Dol.
Most noble Empress, you have heard of me?
Cle.
I cannot tell.
Dol.
—Assuredly, you have.
Cle.
No matter, sir, what I have heard, or known.
You laugh, when boys, or women, tell their dreams;
Is't not your trick?
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—I understand not, madam.
Cle.
I dreamt there was an Emperor Antony;—
O, such another sleep! that I might see
But such another man.
Dol.
—If it might please you,—
Cle.
His face was as the heavens: and therein stuck
A sun, and moon; which kept their course, and lighted
The little o o'the earth.
Dol.
—Most sovereign creature,—
Cle.
His legs bestrid the ocean; his rear'd arm
Crested the world: his voice was property'd
As all the tuned spheres, when that to friends;
But when he meant to quail and shake the orb,
He was as ratling 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 shew'd his back above
The element they liv'd in: In his livery
Walk'd crowns, and crownets; realms and islands were
As plates dropt from his pocket.
Dol.
—Cleopatra,—
Cle.
Think you, there was, or might be, such a man
As this I dreamt of?
Dol.
—Gentle madam, no.
Cle.
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
An Antony, were nature's piece 'gainst fancy,
Condemning shadows quite.
Dol.
—Hear me, good madam:
Your loss is as yourself, great; and you bear it
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O'er-take pursu'd success, but I do feel,
By the rebound of yours, a grief that smites
My very heart at root.
Cle.
—I thank you, sir.
Know you, what Cæsar means to do with me?
Dol.
I am loth to tell you what I would you knew.
Cle.
Nay, pray you, sir.
Dol.
—Though he be honourable,—
Cle.
He'll lead me in triumph:
Dol.
—Madam, he will; I know it.
within.
Make way there,—Cæsar.
Enter Cæsar, and Train of Romans, and Seleucus.
Cæs.
Which is the Queen of Egypt?
Dol.
It is the Emperor, madam.
Cæs.
Arise, you shall not kneel:
I pray you, rise; rise, Egypt.
[to Cle. raising her.
Cle.
—Sir, the gods
Will have it thus; my master and my lord
I must obey.
Cæs.
—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.
Cle.
—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 sham'd our sex.
Cæs.
—Cleopatra, know,
We will extenuate rather than enforce:
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(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.
Cle.
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.
Cæs.
You shall advise me in all for Cleopatra.
Cle.
This is the brief of money, plate, and jewels,
I am possest of: 'tis exactly valu'd;
Not petty things omitted.—Where's Seleucus?
Sel.
Here, madam.
Cle.
This is my treasurer; let him speak, my lord,
Upon his peril, that I have reserv'd
To myself nothing.—Speak the truth, Seleucus.
Sel.
Madam,
I had rather seal my lips, than, to my peril,
Speak that which is not.
Cle.
—What have I kept back?
Sel.
Enough to purchase what you have made known.
Cæs.
Nay, blush not, Cleopatra; I approve
Your wisdom in the deed.
Cle.
—See, Cæsar! 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
E'en make me wild:—O slave, of no more trust
Than love that's hir'd! What, go'st thou back? thou shalt
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Though they had wings: Slave! soul-less villain! dog!
O rarely base!
[flying at him.
Cæs.
—Good Queen, let us intreat you.
[interposing.
Cle.
O Cæsar, what a wounding shame is this;
That thou vouchsafing here to visit me,
Doing the honour of thy lordliness
To one so mean, 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 modern friends withal; and say,
Some nobler token I have kept apart,
For Livia, and Octavia, to induce
Their mediation, must I be unfolded
Of one that I have bred?—The gods! it smites me
Beneath the fall I have.—Wert thou a man,
Thou would'st have mercy on me.
Cæs.
—Forbear, Seleucus.
[Exit Seleucus.
Cle.
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 pity'd.
Cæs.
—Cleopatra,
Not what you have reserv'd, nor what acknowledg'd,
Put we i'the roll of conquest: still be it yours,
Bestow it at your pleasure; and believe,
Cæsar'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
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Our care and pity is so much upon you,
That we remain your friend; And so, adieu.
Cle.
My master, and my lord,—
Cæs.
—Not so: Adieu.
[Exeunt Cæs. Dol. and Train.
Cle.
He words me, girls, he words me, that I should not
Be noble to myself: But hark thee, Charmian.
Ira.
Finish, good lady; the bright day is done,
And we are for the dark.
Cle.
—Hie thee again:
I have spoke already, and it is provided;
Go, put it to the haste.
Cha.
—Madam, I will.
[going.
Re-enter Dolabella.
Dol.
Where is the Queen?
Cha.
—Behold, sir.
[Exit.
Cle.
—Dolabella?
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.
Cle.
—Dolabella,
I shall remain your debtor.
Dol.
—I your servant.
Adieu, good Queen; I must attend on Cæsar.
Cle.
Farewel, and thanks, [Exit Dol.]
Now, Iras, what think'st thou?
Thou, an Egyptian puppet, shalt be shewn
In Rome, as well as I: mechanick slaves,
With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall
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Rank of gross diet, shall we be enclouded,
And forc'd to drink their vapour.
Ira.
—The gods forbid!
Cle.
Nay, 'tis most certain, Iras: Saucy lictors
Will catch at us, like strumpets; and scald rimers
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.
Ira.
—O the good gods!
Cle.
Nay, this is certain.
Ira.
I'll never see't; for, I am sure, my nails
Are stronger than mine eyes.
Cle.
—Why, that's the way
To fool their preparation, and to conquer
Their most assur'd intents.—Now, Charmian?—
Re-enter 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 dooms-day.—Bring our crown and all.
[Exit Iras. Charmian falls to adjusting Cleopatra's Dress. Noise within.
Wherefore's this noise?
Enter some of the Guard.
1. G.
—Here is a rural fellow,
That will not be deny'd your highness' presence;
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Cle.
Let him come in. [Exeunt Guard.]
How 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 Guard, with the Clown.
1. G.
—This is the man.
Cle.
Avoid, and leave him.—
[Exit Guard.
Hast thou the pretty worm of Nilus there,
That kills and pains not?
Clo.
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.
Cle.
Remember'st thou any that have dy'd on't?
Clo.
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 dy'd 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.
Cle.
Get thee hence; farewell.
Clo.
I wish you all joy of the worm.
[setting down his Basket.
Cle.
Farewel.
Clo.
You must think this, look you, that the worm
will do his kind.
Cle.
Ay, ay; farewel.
Clo.
Look you, the worm is not to be trusted, but
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goodness in the worm.
Cle.
Take thou no care; it shall be heeded.
Clo.
Very good: give it nothing, I pray you, for
it is not worth the feeding.
Cle.
Well, get thee gone; farewel.
Clo.
Yes, forfooth: I wish you joy of the worm.
[Exit.
Re-enter Iras, with Robe &c.
Cle.
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 Cæsar, which the gods give men
To excuse their after wrath: Husband, I come:
[Goes to a Bed, or Sopha, which she ascends; her Women compose her on it: Iras sets the Basket, which she has been holding upon her own Arm, by her.
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.
Farewel, kind Charmian;—Iras, long farewel.
[kissing them. Iras falls.
Have I the aspick 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.
Cha.
Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain; that I may say,
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Cle.
—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, mortal wretch,
[to the Asp; applying it to her Breast.
With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate
Of life at once untie: poor venomous fool,
[stirring it.
Be angry, and dispatch. O, could'st thou speak!
That I might hear thee call great Cæsar, ass,
Unpolicy'd!
Cha.
—O eastern star!
Cle.
—Peace, peace:
Dost thou not see my baby at my breast,
That sucks the nurse asleep?
Cha.
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.
Cha.
—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 Phœbus never be beheld
Of eyes again so royal! Your crown's awry;
I'll mend it, and then play.
Enter some of the Guard.
1. G.
Where is the Queen?
Cha.
—Speak softly, wake her not.
1. G.
Cæsar hath sent—
Cha.
—too slow a messenger.—
[applying the Asp.
O, come, apace, dispatch; I partly feel thee.
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Approach, ho! All's not well: Cæsar's beguil'd.
2. G.
There's Dolabella, sent from Cæsar; call him.
1. G.
What work is here!—Charmian, is this well done?
Cha.
It is well done, and fitting for a princess
Descended of so many royal Kings.
Ah, soldier!
[dies.
Enter Dolabella.
Dol.
How goes it here?
2. G.
—All dead.
Dol.
—Cæsar, 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, way for Cæsar!
Enter Cæsar, and Train.
Dol.
O, sir, you are too sure an augurer;
That you did fear, is done.
Cæs.
—Brav'st at the last:
She level'd at our purposes, and, being royal,
Took her own way.—The manner of their deaths?
I do not see them bleed.
Dol.
—Who was last with them?
1. G.
A simple countryman, that brought her figs;
This † was his basket.
Cæs.
—Poison'd then.
1. G.
—O Cæsar,
This Charmian liv'd but now; she stood, and spake:
I found her trimming up the diadem
On her dead mistress; tremblingly she stood,
And on the sudden drop'd.
Cæs.
—O noble weakness!—
If they had swallow'd poison, 'twould appear
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As she would catch another Antony
In her strong toil of grace.
Dol.
—Here, on her breast,
There is a vent of blood, and something blown:
The like is on her arm.
1. G.
—This is an aspick's trail;
[pointing to the Floor.
And these fig-leaves have slime upon them, such
As the aspick leaves upon the caves of Nile.
Cæs.
Most probable,
That so she dy'd: for her physician tells me,
She hath pursu'd conclusions infinite
Of easy ways to die.—Take up her bed;
And bear her women from the monument:—
She shall be bury'd 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 shew, attend this funeral;
And then to Rome. Come, Dolabella, see
High order in this great solemnity.
[Exeunt.
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