Antony and Cleopatra by William Shakespeare (i am reading a book TXT) 📕

better ’twere
Thou fell’st into my fury, for one death
Might have prevented many. Eros, ho!
The shirt of Nessus is upon me: teach me,
Alcides, thou mine ancestor, thy rage:
Let me lodge Lichas on the horns o’ the moon;
And with those hands, that grasp’d the heaviest club,
Subdue my worthiest self. The witch shall die:
To the young Roman boy she hath sold me, and I fall
Under this plot; she dies for’t. Eros, ho! Exit. Scene XIII

Alexandria. Cleopatra’s palace.

Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Mardian. Cleopatra

Help me, my women! O, he is more mad
Than Telamon for his shield; the boar of Thessaly
Was never so emboss’d.

Charmian

To the monument!
There lock yourself, and send him word you are dead.
The soul and body rive not more in parting
Than greatness going off.

Cleopatra

To the monument!
Mardian, go tell him I have slain myself;
Say, that the last I spoke was “Antony,”
And word it, prithee, piteously: hence, Mardian,
And bring me how he takes my death.
To the monument! Exeunt.

Scene XIV

The same. Another room.

Enter Antony and Eros. Antony Eros, thou yet behold’st me? Eros Ay, noble lord. Antony

Sometimes we see a cloud that’s dragonish;
A vapour sometime like a bear or lion,
A tower’d citadel, a pendent rock,
A forked mountain, or blue promontory
With trees upon’t, that nod unto the world,
And mock our eyes with air: thou hast seen these signs;
They are black vesper’s pageants.

Eros Ay, my lord, Antony

That which is now a horse, even with a thought
The rack dislimns, and makes it indistinct,
As water is in water.

Eros It does, my lord. Antony

My good knave Eros, now thy captain is
Even such a body: here I am Antony;
Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave.
I made these wars for Egypt: and the queen⁠—
Whose heart I thought I had, for she had mine;
Which whilst it was mine had annex’d unto’t
A million more, now lost⁠—she, Eros, has
Pack’d cards with Caesar, and false-play’d my glory
Unto an enemy’s triumph.
Nay, weep not, gentle Eros; there is left us
Ourselves to end ourselves.

Enter Mardian.

O! thy vile lady!
She has robb’d me of my sword.

Mardian

No, Antony;
My mistress loved thee, and her fortunes mingled
With thine entirely.

Antony

Hence, saucy eunuch; peace
She hath betray’d me and shall die the death.

Mardian

Death of one person can be paid but once,
And that she has discharged: what thou wouldst do
Is done unto thy hand: the last she spake
Was “Antony! most noble Antony!”
Then in the midst a tearing groan did break
The name of Antony; it was divided
Between her heart and lips: she render’d life,
Thy name so buried in her.

Antony Dead, then? Mardian Dead. Antony

Unarm, Eros; the long day’s task is done,
And we must sleep. To Mardian. That thou depart’st hence safe,
Does pay thy labour richly; go. Exit Mardian. Off, pluck off:
The seven-fold shield of Ajax cannot keep
The battery from my heart. O, cleave, my sides!
Heart, once be stronger than thy continent,
Crack thy frail case! Apace, Eros, apace.
No more a soldier: bruised pieces, go;
You have been nobly borne. From me awhile. Exit Eros.
I will o’ertake thee, Cleopatra, and
Weep for my pardon. So it must be, for now
All length is torture: since the torch is out,
Lie down, and stray no farther: now all labour
Mars what it does; yea, very force entangles
Itself with strength: seal then, and all is done.
Eros!⁠—I come, my queen:⁠—Eros!⁠—Stay for me:
Where souls do couch on flowers, we’ll hand in hand,
And with our sprightly port make the ghosts gaze:
Dido and her Aeneas shall want troops,
And all the haunt be ours. Come, Eros, Eros!

Re-enter Eros. Eros What would my lord? Antony

Since Cleopatra died,
I have lived in such dishonour, that the gods
Detest my baseness. I, that with my sword
Quarter’d the world, and o’er green Neptune’s back
With ships made cities, condemn myself to lack
The courage of a woman; less noble mind
Than she which by her death our Caesar tells
“I am conqueror of myself.” Thou art sworn, Eros,
That, when the exigent should come, which now
Is come indeed, when I should see behind me
The inevitable prosecution of
Disgrace and horror, that, on my command,
Thou then wouldst kill me: do’t; the time is come:
Thou strikest not me, ’tis Caesar thou defeat’st.
Put colour in thy cheek.

Eros

The gods withhold me!
Shall I do that which all the Parthian darts,
Though enemy, lost aim, and could not?

Antony

Eros,
Wouldst thou be window’d in great Rome and see
Thy master thus with pleach’d arms, bending down
His corrigible neck, his face subdued
To penetrative shame, whilst the wheel’d seat
Of fortunate Caesar, drawn before him, branded
His baseness that ensued?

Eros I would not see’t. Antony

Come, then; for with a wound I must be cured.
Draw that thy honest sword, which thou hast worn
Most useful for thy country.

Eros O, sir, pardon me! Antony

When I did make thee free, sworest thou not then
To do this when I bade thee? Do it at once;
Or thy precedent services are all
But accidents unpurposed. Draw, and come.

Eros

Turn from me, then, that noble countenance,
Wherein the worship of the whole world lies.

Antony Lo thee! Turning from him. Eros My sword is drawn. Antony

Then let it do at once
The thing why thou hast drawn it.

Eros

My dear master,
My captain, and my emperor, let me say,
Before I strike this bloody stroke, farewell.

Antony ’Tis said, man; and farewell. Eros Farewell, great chief. Shall I strike now? Antony Now, Eros. Eros

Why, there then: thus I do escape the sorrow
Of Antony’s death. Kills himself.

Antony

Thrice-nobler than myself!
Thou teachest me, O valiant Eros, what
I should, and thou couldst not. My queen and Eros
Have by their brave instruction got upon me
A nobleness in record: but I will be
A bridegroom in my death, and run into’t
As to a lover’s bed. Come, then; and, Eros,
Thy master dies thy scholar: to do thus Falling on his sword.
I learn’d of thee. How! not dead? not dead?
The guard, ho! O, dispatch me!

Enter Dercetas and Guard. First Guard What’s the noise? Antony

I have done my work ill, friends: O, make an end
Of what