 | Antony and Cleopatra |  |
406
ACT V.
SCENE I.
Cæsar's Camp near Alexandria.Enobarbus walking in great emotion before it. Soldier enters.
Enob.
So, brother soldier, didst thou tell Agrippa?
Sold.
I did, my lord; he'll wait you by-and-by.
Enob.
Well, well;—I am not custom'd to attend
The leisure of the great.
[Exit Soldier.
Why did I come?—'twas but a gustful word
Torn from him, and cast forth by sudden passion.—
Were Antony as he was, I had done nobly;
Now, it was base—Misfortune has its privilege,
And should not be forsaken!—
Fie, fie, Domitius!—
Scarus enters.
Scarus.
My lord Enobarbus, my master
Antony grieves for some offences he has done you.
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Offences?—Ay, Scarus; great offences!
Scarus.
He sends you many greetings, and
kind adieus; and wishes you may find a more
grateful master.
Enob.
O—
There's no doubt, there's no doubt, Scarus;
Cæsar's worth twenty of him!
Scarus.
He sends you, moreover, all that is
precious of your moveables, and trebles your store
from his own treasury.
Enob.
Tell him I am rich enough in the graces of Octavius.
Take back your trumpery!
Scarus.
Here are ten camels laden, each of
them richer than a Phænician hulk.
Enob.
Cast your treasures into the Nile—
They'll make sport for the divers.—Hence!—or I
call the guard!
Scarus.
How this will vex my noble master,
Antony!—Farewell, Enobarbus—by the gods,
I always thought you of a kindlier disposition.
[Exit Scarus.
Enob.
He is gone in time—I could hold it no
longer—I am the veriest varlet of the earth!—O
Antony, Antony! thou mine of bounty, thou
spirit of fellowship, and heart of friendship!—
Were the gods of my counsel, this world were a
petty earnest of thy boundless domain.—How I do
shrink, and vanish into nothing, within my own
contempts!—Night, thou true mistress of dun melancholy,
discharge thy poisons on me!—Heart,
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fault, till thou art powder!—
Alarm sounded. Soldiers cross the Stage in a hurry.
1st Sold.
To arms, to arms!
Antony is already in the field,
And drives the advanced squadrons of our army,
Like dust before the hurricane!
[Exeunt Soldiers.
Enob.
Now, now,
[Alarm continues.
Without his knowledge could I but cast
My blood and life into his cause, I then
Should die, in part reveng'd upon his graciousness!
[Exit.
SCENE II.
Changes to Alexandria.Cleopatra enters attended.
Cleo.
Most gallantly did he go forth—O, that
he and Cæsar might end it hand to hand.—Then,
Antony, ay, then!—but now—Well, girls,—
no worser than the worst, can come—and there's
the end of all—and all, in time, will have an
ending!
Alexas enters.
Alexas.
News, madam, news!—our glorious
master, Antony, has beat them to their trenches!
Cleo.
O, the gods!—
Is't possible?—Now is our fatal hour!—
Now is our infinite at stake—the world,
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Their former spheres, must now shine forth again,
Or else be dark for ever!
Mardian enters.
Mard.
News, news, my royal mistress!
From Alexandria, to the camp of Cæsar,
Our fields wax fat with hostile carcasses;
And Antony, now captain of the world,
Returns triumphant!
Cleo.
Great is thy godhead, Isis!
Iras! quick, quick, my tires!—
Haste, give the word throughout! prepare the banquet!
Call up the music!—We will forth to meet him.
SCENE III.
While Cleopatra prepares to go out, Trumpets sound. Antony enters in Triumph.Cleo.
Lord of heroes!
O, first of valours! Com'st thou smiling from
The whole world's toil, uncaught?
[Embraces.
Ant.
My nightingale!
We have beat them to their beds.—Give me thy hand!
Through Alexandria make a jolly march,
Bear our hack'd harness, like the men that own them!
I thank you all, for doughty-handed are ye.
Enter the city—clip your wives, your friends;
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Wash the congealment from your wounds, and kiss
The honour'd gashes whole!
[Exeunt Soldiers.
Cleo.
Soldier of glory!—Antony of Romans!
What has thine arm atchiev'd!
Ant.
O Queen of all contents—Spirit of love!
But for a single loss, this glorious day,
Of all the days of my triumphant life,
Had born away the palm!
Cleo.
What loss, my hero?—
Amid the acquisition of a world,
What loss can come?
Ant.
More worth than all that world,
The loss of such a friend!—Where the fight burn'd,
And where, from every quarter, death assail'd me;
He rush'd between, and cast his faithful breast,
Upon the spears that levell'd at our corselet:
With blood, and sweat, and dust, his face was covered.
But, when the tide of battle bore him from me,
I sent to seek him thro' the thickest fight,
By the white foam of his exalted plume,
That floated o'er the field!—
Cleo.
A province to the man who finds him for us,
That we may set him, as our chiefest gem,
In the world's crownet.
Ant.
'Tis the proper sphere,
For such a virtue!—Go, my Queen of kingdoms!
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Order our banquet!
[Exeunt Cleopatra and Attendants.
Sold.
We have brought him, my lord,
[Soldiers speak without.
We have brought him!
Ant.
O, the brave fellow!—Give him to my arms!
Had he escaped the value of his deeds,
I had died worthless!
Enobarbus brought in.
Ant.
Strike me, Jove's bolt!—Domitius Enobarbus!—
O, thou hast cut me to the heart, Domitius!
Thou hast ta'en the surest, sharpest way, for vengeance;
And set the faults of Antony before him,
Keener than all the arms that range with Cæsar!
Enob.
Pardon, pardon!
[Bends on one knee.
Ant.
Is it thou that asks it?—O the wealth of souls!
Heart to my heart—
[Raises and embraces him.
Never be more distinction, 'twixt thy Antony
And Enobarbus—Gods!—the world is theirs,
And his the worthier half!
Enob.
I would I had rather died for you in the battle!
For you are purposed to slay me, my master—
To kill me, with your goodness!
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Eros.
My lord, my lord,
Cæsar's whole fleet comes bellying on amain,
And means, no doubt, to charge us in the bay.
Ant.
They shall be welcome, Eros.
We will, ourself, aboard, and gage this time,
No coward hand shall turn a prow to Egypt.
Scarus enters.
Scarus.
My lord, I bring you unexpected tidings.
The beaten Cæsar hath ta'en heart anew,
Hath cast his circling fosses to the earth,
And, with fresh powers, unnumber'd as the sands,
Comes down upon the city.
Ant.
Divide me, gods!—that he may have an Antony,
By sea and land, to cope with!—
What, has the boy such mettle?—We, once more,
Will shew him to his tent!—
Domitius Enobarbus!
Enob.
Sir!
Ant.
Muster our brave companions, good Domitius.
Tell them—
'Tis but returning to a half-eat banquet;
We have stomach for it yet!
Enob.
I will, my heart o'the world!
[Exit Enobarbus.
413
Ant.
Soothsayer!
Sooth.
My lord.
Ant.
Well, Soothsayer, thou dost see that we can conquer,
In spite of Augury.
Sooth.
'Tis true, great emperor!
O, such another day, the world, to nothing,
Again were Antony's—But, noblest master,
Make you quick profit of your present vantage.
Swallows have built in Cleopatra's sails:
The moody Augurs shake the downward brow,
But dare not speak their forethought.
Ant.
O, we ask not Augury,
But courage for our counsel!—Hark apart—
If that thou canst unfold the growth of time,
That now lies in the seed, inform, I pray thee,
What lot do we draw hereafter?
Sooth.
Thou shalt imitate
The act of that same enemy, on whose corse
Thy kindly tears did fall.
Ant.
Whom?
Sooth.
Brutus.
Ant.
What, stab Cæsar?
Sooth.
I cannot say—the dæmon comes upon me,
Like lightning in the night—a sudden flash—
And all again is darkness!
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SCENE IV.
To Antony, Enobarbus, and Soldiers.Enob.
My passion's breathless!
Ant.
The matter?
Enob.
All's lost—the Cleopatra has betray'd us!
Her fleets have yielded to the foe, and yonder
Cast up their caps, and shout aloud for Cæsar!
Ant.
Triple turn'd harlot!—She hath sold me, sold me!—
Fly, my brave fellows, fly!—there's loss enough!
For when I am reveng'd upon my spell,
I have done all!
Go, Enobarbus—bid them all fly—begone!
[Exeunt all but Antony.
Ant.
O sun, thine uprise shall I see no more!—
Fortune and Antony part here!—
All come to this?—The pine, the pine is bark'd,
That overtopt them all!—
O, this false soul of Egypt!
She hath beguiled me, to the very heart
Of loss and defamation!—
Ah, thou witch—avaunt!
Cleopatra enters.
Cleo.
Why is my lord in wrath?
Ant.
Vanish! or I shall spoil thy Cæsar's triumph!—
Stay!—rather let him take thee—hoist thee up,
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The shrillness of their shouts shall tear thine organs,
And the close rankness of their gathering breaths
Cloud thee to suffocation!—
Let—let Octavia, with prepared nails,
Plough up thy visage!—
Let—'Tis well thou'rt gone!
[Exit Cleopatra.
Ho, Eros, ho!—
The Shirt of Nessus is upon me—Hercules!
Teach me, mine ancestor, thy rage!
Let me lodge Lychas on the horn o'th'moon!
And, with a club, above the lift of Cæsar,
Subdue my worthier self!—The witch shall die!—
She hath sold me, and she dies for't—Eros, ho!—
[Exit.
SCENE V.
Cleopatra re-enters, with Alexas, Mardian, Charmian, Iras.Cleo.
Defend us, wenches!—O, he is more mad
Than Telamon for his shield—the boar of Thessaly
Was never so emboss'd!
Alexas.
The soul and body rive not more in parting,
Than greatness going off.—To your monument, madam—there keep at bay!
Cleo.
O me!—I know not whither!—
Away, then, friends—to the monument!
[Exeunt.
416
SCENE VI.
Antony and Eros.Ant.
She flies our vengeance—No matter—let her live
To infamy, for ages!—
O, Eros, Eros, the long day is done,
And we must sleep.—
Rather than stoop to such a thing as Cæsar,
Come, Egypt, pile thy pyramids upon me,
Till they do scale the bluest vault of heaven,
And heave against the stars!
Eros.
If that my noblest master be so minded,
Why, there's an end then—
When the light's out, 'tis only to lie down,
And stray no further.
SCENE VII.
The Children enter, and run to Antony.Cleo.
O, save us, father, save us! they are just
at our heels!
Alex.
Give me a sword, sir! our guards are
run away. All we meet are gone mad, and look
as if they would kill us.
Ant.
O, this last agony was kept in store,
For those who smile in death, and laugh at torture!
Cleo.
Indeed they'll kill us—save us, father,
save us!
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O, I would save ye, wrap ye with my vitals,
Fold my fond heart and yearning soul about ye!
Alex.
Don't fear now, sister! He will let no
one near us.
Ant.
Alas, my sweet companions, my dear infants,
The quick and feeling part of my existence,
Our plays are done—our plays are done, my children!
Rent is the rock, where rose your tower of strength;
And, on your precious heads—ay, there's the ruin—
My ruin tumbles!
Cleo.
What is the matter, sir, pray what's the
matter?
Alex.
Why do you look so sad, and fearful
on us?
Ant.
Hell, darkness, demons!
Did ye foresee it, gods—yet suffer this to be?
It is not to be born—here, Eros, take them!
Bear off my little ones—rend, wrench them from me!
Cleo.
We will not leave you, sir!
Alex.
We will not leave you!—Where should
we go to, father?
Ant.
Well thought, well thought!—Ah, where, indeed, my children?
Your world is seiz'd into the hands of strangers;
And not a nook is left upon the earth,
To rest your little heads!
O, you companions of my blissful hours!
Will your stern masters see your bonds be soft,
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Or will some envious stepdame, from a brow
Of clouds, shed comforts on you?—No, no, no!
Alex.
Where you go, sir, we'll go.
Cleo.
Don't part us, father!
Ant.
'Tis well advised—
The insulting foe shall have no part of Antony,
To vaunt his triumph on!
Eros.
What mean you, sir?
Ant.
Eros, hold off!
I am not myself—my thoughts are full of fellness!
[Draws a dagger.
Alex.
Ah, father, you won't kill us?
Ant.
Kill ye?—O, no—I had rather pierce my heart,
Than prick your smallest finger!
Cleo.
Save us!—
O, save us, father, from that ugly dagger!
Ant.
So quick, it shall not hurt ye—
Eros,—keep off!—
Eros.
No—strike them through me!—
[Interposes.
What, would you black the whiteness of your name
To infinite ages?
Ant.
Ha!—That might be worth a thought!
Haste—bear them hence—and charge the eunuchs with 'em.
Away, lest sudden frenzy should return—
And you, and I, and they, all plunge together!
[Exit Eros with Children.
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SCENE VIII.
To Antony Enobarbus.Enob.
Pardon, my lord, I have greatly wrong'd your Queen—
Yes, greatly wrong'd her!—On my soul, she has been
Loyal and loving, ever—Curs'd Photinus,
That recreant slave, Photinus, has betray'd
Her, you, and us, and all our world, to Cæsar.
But, more of that, when time may serve—
Haste, haste, my master, while there yet remains
A hold to hang a hope on!
Ant.
What hold, what hope?
I have lifted Cæsar to his heav'n of empire;
And now, the scaffolding, by which he rose,
Is cast to ruin!
Enob.
Near the western gate,
I have a band of trusty resolutes.
Ant.
Ha, say'st thou?
Enob.
For a sally!
Ant.
One bold push!
Enob.
One gallant chance!
Ant.
To perish warm!
Enob.
Or force our passage!
Ant.
To Parthia,—noble!—to retrieve a world,
Or in a blaze expire—Come on, my soldier!
[Exeunt.
420
SCENE IX.
Changes to the Monument.Cleopatra, Iras.
Cleo.
No, Iras, death is what I wish for—either
To fall into the nothing whence I rose,
Or take my future lot among immortals.—
Dying—'tis that I dread!—
I stand, I tremble, as upon the brink
Of some unfathom'd flood, and wish to plunge,
But dare not!—
Iras.
Yet, take comfort, sweetest mistress!
Cleo.
No, Iras, no—all comforts we detest;
Our size of grief is infinite as our loss,
Stretching the sides of thought!
Now, Mardian, saw you my lord?
[Mardian enters.
Is he yet informed of my innocence?
Mard.
Madam, he is; and if he thrives, you shall hear from him.
I met him at the head of a small band of daring
Followers, bent to win his way by the western portal—
That is not the worst tidings.
Cleo.
Ha!—sayst thou?—what?—perhaps my children—dead?
Are they murder'd?
Mard.
The traitor, Alexas, madam, forced
them from the eunuchs, and has carried them to
the camp, to make his peace with Cæsar.
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O, they have made a wreck of me already;
And, ere I sink unto the peaceful bottom,
They do dismember me.—O, my sweet lambs,
My babes of gentleness and beauty!—how,
How will ye bear with the unkindly frost
Of strange and hostile brows?—Who, now, will lay
Your nightly pillow soft; or, in the day,
Delight to see and share your playfulness?
O, ye will miss a mother's tenderness;
Your hearts will think upon your native Egypt,
And break with the remembrance!
Mard.
Fear not, madam,
The very aspect of the royal little ones
Shall smooth the rugged face of war, and tygers
Shall caress them.
Cleo.
Go, Mardian, haste—bear this to Cæsar's sister—
[Gives a casket.
It holds the purchase of five provinces.
Tell her it is my dying legacy,
And let it mediate for the little innocents,
Who know of no offences.
Mard.
I will, madam.
[Exit.
SCENE X.
Charmian enters,Char.
O false, false Egypt—
He's dying, mistress, dying!
Clo.
Dost thou mean Antony?
422
When, as he would have pass'd the western gate,
Your faithless Alexandrians set themselves
Against his purpose.—Being thus begirt,
Within, without, by foes, and no way left,
He, Eros, and his faithful Enobarbus,
All turn'd their mighty swords upon themselves,
And fell together.
Cleo.
What, my own Egyptians?
Dogs, dogs, and harpies, monsters of the Nile!
False, recreant Egypt!—Never more arise
A prince, of thine own race, to honour thee!
But foreign vultures, with fell beaks and talons,
Seize on thy state, and prey upon thy vitals,
Even to the end, the end of time!
Iras,
O, madam,
Lo, where the emperor comes!
Char.
Bloody and wan—his failing steps supported
By his sad captains!
Cleo.
Oh—I see—'tis done—'tis over—all—
Ye gods—you can no more!
O wreck of heaven and earth!—O Antony, Antony!
423
SCENE XI.
Antony enters, supported by Officers.Ant.
Gently, my friends, or I am gone!
O—there!
[They let him down.
Adieu—take with you my eternal thanks
For this, your latest service—so—friends—leave me!
Would I had another world to part among you,
Better than that we have lost!
[Exeunt Officers.
Cleo.
Woe, woe—alas!—the soldier's pole is fallen!
O—wither'd is the garland of the war!
And there is nothing left remarkable
Beneath the visiting moon!
Ant.
True, thou sweet bird, whose song made all my summer!—
The long, long winter's come; and we must moult,
Never to plume again!—O, pardon, love!—
Have I your pardon for my rash suspicions?
I weep for it in blood!
Cleo.
I'll not survive you,
If swords, or knives, or drugs, or serpents, have
Edge, sting, or operation.
Ant.
Loveliest, dearest,
Live, live, I charge you—think on our poor infants!
I am dying, Egypt, dying!—Tell me;
Wilt thou remember, Antony?—that hope
424
On the dark journey!
Cleo.
O—he is going—going!
Ant.
I would fain stay longer with thee—
A little longer!—but—it will not be.
Shall we not meet—shall we not meet again?—
Perhaps—in happier climes!—
Now—now I feel what's death—'tis nature's wreck—
Torn from herself!—
It is—it is to part from Cleopatra—
Never to join again!—
Thine image, now, is all that's left me—O—
O, Cleopatra!—
[Dies.
Cleo.
Gone!—
Is it possible—or did we only dream?
Charm.
Dream, madam?
Cleo.
Yes.—
I dream'd there was an emperor Antony—
O, such another sleep!—
His face was as the heavens, and therein shone
A sun and moon, which kept their course, and lighted
This little of the earth!
Charm.
Most sovereign lady,
The gods preserve you firm!
Cleo.
His legs bestrid the ocean; his rear'd arm
Crested the earth; his voice was propertied
As all the tuned spheres!
But, when he meant to quail, and shake the globe,
425
It knew no winter, girls; it was an autumn,
That grew the more by plucking.—In his livery
Walk'd crowns and coronets—Realms and islands were
As plates dropt from his pocket!
Charm., Iras.
Madam—dear madam!
Cleo.
Knew ye not such an Antony?
Both.
We did, we did.—But—
Cleo.
But there he lies, scarce better now to look on,
Than the world's Cæsar!—Girls, O girls—see there!
Our day is done—our latest lamp is spent,
And we are for the dark!
[Trumpets and shouts.
Iras.
Madam, they come—look, look!
Cleo.
Give me the aspicks—quick!
Charm.
O mistress!
Cleo.
What!—
Not such another word—Why, how now Charmian?
Good cheer! we'll yet be happy, girls!—Quick, quick!
I am fire and air—my other elements
I give to baser life!
[Applies the Aspicks.
Charm.
O eastern star!—we could not, if we would,
Survive when thou art quench'd.
Cleo.
Peace, peace!—
Do ye not see my baby at my breast,
426
If death's no more than this, life is not worth
Leave-taking—Charmian, I am going, Charmian!
Now, Antony, Antony!—I come, I come!
[Dies.
Char.
Close, downy windows, close!
And golden Phœbus never be beheld
Of eyes, again, so royal!
[Noise at the gate.
Now Iras!
[They apply the aspicks.
Guard.
Make way, make way!
[Gate broke open. Agrippa enters with Roman chiefs.
Agrip.
How, how!—
Was this well done?
Iras.
Yes—
Charm.
Rarely, rarely, Roman!
[They both fall.
Agrip.
Rarely indeed, for faithfully!—Come, friends,
Let us behold this wonder—She does look
Like sleep, as she would catch another Antony
In her strong toil of Grace.—Lay them together.
Never was yet the boastful monument
Could compass such a pair—Here conquest ought
To weep, and wash with tears the end it sought.
| Antony and Cleopatra | |