THE tragedy OF antony.  
done into English by the Countess of Pembroke  
Imprinted at London for William Ponsonby 1595.   

¶ The Argument.  
AFTER the overthrow of Brutus and Cassius, the liberty of Rome being now utterly oppressed, and the Empire settled in the hands of Octavius Caesar and Marcus Antonius, (who for knitting a straighter bond of amity between them, had taken to wife Octavia the sister of Caesar) Antonius undertook a journey agàinst the Parthians, with intent to regain on them the honour won by them from the Romans, at the discomfiture and slaughter of Crassus. But coming in his journey into Siria the places renewed in his remembrance the long intermitted love of Cleopatra Queen of Egypt: who before time had both in Cilicia and at Alexandria, entertained him with all the exquisite delights and sumptuous pleasures, which a great Prince and voluptuous lover could to the uttermost desire. Whereupon omitting his enterprise, he made his return to Alexandria, again falling to his former loves, without any regard of his virtuous wife Octavia, by whom nevertheless he had excellent children. This occasion Octavius took of taking arms against him: & preparing a mighty fleet, encountered him at Actium, who also had assembled to that place a great number of Galleys of his own, beside, 60. which Cleopatra brought with her from Egypt, But at the very beginning of the battle Cleopatra with all her Galleys betook her to flight, which Antony seeing could not but follow: by his departure to Octavius the greatest victory which in any Seabattell hath been hard off. Which he not negligent to pursue, follows them the next spring and besiegeth them with in Alexandria, where Antony finding all that he trusted to fail him, beginneth to grow jealous and to suspect Cleopatra. She thereupon enclosed herself with two of her women in a monument she had before caused to be built, thence sends him word she was dead: which he believing for truth, gave himself with his Sword a deadly wound: but died not until a messenger came from Cleopatra to have him brought to her to the tomb. Which she not daring to open lest she should be made a prisoner to the Romans, & carried in Caesar's triumph, cast down a cord from an high window, by the which (her women helping her) she trussed up Antonius half dead, & so got him into the monument. The stage supposed alexandria: the chorus first Egyptians, & after Roman soldiers: The history to be read at large in Plutarch in the life of Antonius.   

¶ The Actors.  

Antonius.  
Cleopatra.  
Eras and Charmion. Cleopatra's women  
Philostratus a Philosopher.  
Lucilius.  
Diomed Secretary to Cleopatra.  
Octavius Caesar.  
Agrippa.  
Euphron, teacher of Cleopatra's children.  
Children of Cleopatra,  
Dircetus the Messenger.    

ANTONIUS  
SInce cruel Heavens against me obstinate,  
Since all mishaps of the round engine do  
Conspire my harm: since men, since powers divine  
Air, earth, and Sea are all injurious:  
And that my Queen herself, in whom I lived,  
The Idol of my heart, doth me pursue;  
It's meet I die. For her have I foregone  
My Country, Caesar unto war provoked  
(For just revenge of Sisters wrong my wife,  
Who moved my Queen (ay me!) to jealousy)  
For love of her, in her allurements caught  
Abandoned life, I honour have despised,  
Disdained my friends, and of the stately Rome  
Despoiled the Empire of her best attire,  
Contemned that power that made me so much feared,  
A slave become unto her feeble face.  
O cruel, traitress, woman most unkind,  
Thou dost, forsworn, my love and life betray:  
And giv'st me up to rageful enemy,  
Which soon (o fool!) will plague thy perjury.  
Yielded Pelusium on this country's shore,  
Yielded thou hast my Ships and men of war,  
That nought remains (so destitute am I)  
But these same arms which on my back I wear.  
Thou shouldst have had them too, and me unarmed  
Yielded to Caesar naked of defence.  
Which while I bear let Caesar never think  
Triumph of me shall his proud chariot grace  
Not think with me his glory to adorn,  
On me alive to use his victory.  
Thou only Cleopatra triumph haste,  
Thou only hast my freedom servile made,  
Thou only hast me vanquished: not by force  
(For forced I cannot be) but by sweet baits  
Of thy eyes graces, which did gain so fast  
upon my liberty, that nought remained.  
None else henceforth, but thou my dearest Queen,  
Shall glory in commanding antony.  
Have Caesar fortune and the Gods his friends,  
To him have jove and fatal sisters given  
The Sceptre of the earth: he never shall  
Subject my life to his obedience.  
But when that death, my glad refuge, shall have  
Bounded the course of my unsteadfast life,  
And frozen corpse under a marble cold  
Within tombs bosom widow of my soul:  
Then at his will let him it subject make:  
Then what he will let Caesar do with me:  
Make me limb after limb be rent: make me  
My burial take in sides of Thracian wilt.  
Poor antony! alas what was the day,  
The days of loss that gained thee thy love!  
Wretch antony! since Maegaera pale  
With Snaky hairs enchained thy misery.  
The fire thee burnt was never Cupid's fire  
(For Cupid bears not such a mortal brand)  
It was some furies torch, Orestes torch,  
Which sometimes burned his mother-murdering soul  
(When wandering mad, rage boiling in his blood,  
He fled his fault which followed as he fled)  
kindled within his bones by shadow pale  
Of mother slain returned from Stygian lake.  
Antony, poor Antony! since that day  
Thy old good hap did far from thee retire.  
Thy virtue dead: thy glory made alive  
So oft by martial deeds is gone in smoke:  
Since then the bay so well thy forehead knew  
To Venus' myrtles yielded have their place:  
Trumpets to pipes: field tents to courtly bowers:  
Lances and Pikes to dances and to feasts.  
Since then, o wretch! in stead of bloody wars  
Thou shouldst have made upon the Parthian Kings  
For Roman honour filled by Crassus' foil,  
Thou threw'st thy cuirass off, and fearful helm,  
With coward courage unto Egypt's Queen  
In haste to run, about her neck to hang  
Languishing in her arms thy I doll made:  
In sum given up to Cleopatra's eyes  
Thou breakest at length from thence, as one encharmed  
Breaks from th'enchanter that him strongly held.  
For thy first reason (spoiling of their force  
the poisoned cups of thy fair Sorceress)  
Recured thy spirit: and then on every side  
Thou mad'st again the earth with Soldiers swarm  
All Asia hid: Euphrates banks do tremble  
To see at once so many Romans there  
Breath horror, rage, and with a threatening eye  
In mighty squadrons cross his swelling streams.  
Nought seen but horse, and fire sparkling arms:  
Nought heard but hideous noise of muttering troops,  
The Parth, the Mede, abandoning their goods  
Hide them for fear in hills of Hyrcany,  
Redoubting thee. Then willing to besiege  
The great Phraate head of Media,  
Thou campedst at her walls with vain assault,  
Thy engines fit (mishap!) not thither brought,  
So long thou stayest, so long thou dost thee rest,  
So long thy love with such things nourished  
Reframes, reforms itself and stealingly  
Retakes his force and rebecomes more great.  
For of thy Queen the looks, the grace, the words,  
Sweetness, allurements, amorous delights,  
Entered again thy soul, and day and night,  
In watch, in sleep, her Image followed thee:  
Not dreaming but of her, repenting still  
That thou for war hadst such a goddess left.  
Thou carest no more for Parth, nor Parthian bow,  
Sallies, assaults, encounters, shocks, alarms,  
For ditches, rampires, wards, entrenched grounds:  
Thy only care is sight of Nilus' streams,  
Sight of that face whose guileful semblant doth  
(wandering in thee) infect thy tainted heart.  
Her absence thee besots: each hour, each hour  
Of stay, to thee impatient seems an age.  
Enough of conquest, praise thou deemest enough,  
If soon enough the bristled fields thou see  
Of fruitful Egypt, and the stranger flood  
Thy queen's fair eyes (another Pharos) lights.  
Returned lo, dishonoured, despised,  
In wanton love a woman thee misleads  
Sunk in foul sink: meanwhile respecting nought  
Thy wife Octavia and her tender babes,  
Of whom the long contempt against thee whets  
The sword of Caesar now thy Lord become.  
Lost thy great Empire, all those goodly towns  
Reverenced thy name as rebels now thee leave:  
Rise against thee, and to the ensigns flock  
Of conquering Caesar, who enwalls thee round  
Caged in thy hold, scarce master of thyself,  
Late master of so many Nations.  
Yet, yet, which is of grief extremest grief,  
Which is yet of mischief highest mischief,  
It's Cleopatra alas! alas, it's she,  
It's she augments the torment of thy pain,  
Betrays thy love, thy life alas!) betrays,  
Caesar to please, whose grace she seeks to gain:  
With thought her crown to save and fortune make  
Only thy foe which common ought have been.  
If her I always loved, and the first flame  
Of her heart-killing love shall burn me last:  
justly complain I she disloyal is,  
Nor constant is, even as I constant am,  
To comfort my mishap, despising me  
No more, than when the heavens favoured me.  
But ah! by nature women wavering are,  
Each moment changing and rechanging minds.  
Unwise, who blind in them, thinks loyalty  
Ever to find in beauty's company.  Chorus. 
The boiling tempest still  
makes not Sea waters foam:  
nor still the Northern blast  
disquiets quiet streams:  
Nor who his chest to fill  
sails to the morning beams,  
on waves wind tosseth fast  
still keeps his ship from home.  
Nor jove still down doth cast  
inflamed with bloody ire  
on man, on tree, on hill,  
his darts of thundering fire.  
nor still the heat doth last  
on face of parched plain.  
nor wrinkled cold doth still  
on frozen furrows reign.  
But still as long as we  
in this low world remain,  
mishaps our daily mates  
our lives do entertain:  
and woes which bear no dates  
still perch upon our heads,  
none go but straight will be  
some greater in their steads.  
Nature made us not free  
When first she made us live:  
When we began to be,  
To be began our woe:  
Which growing evermore  
As dying life doth grow,  
Do more and more us grieve,  
And tire us more and more.  
No stay in fading states,  
For more to height they reach,  
Their fellow miseries.  
The more to height do stretch.  
They cling even to the crown,  
And threatening furious wise  
From tyrannizing pates  
Do often pull it down.  
In vain on waves untried  
To shun them go we should  
To Scythes and Massagetes  
Who near the Pole reside:  
In vain to boiling sands  
Which Phoebus' battery beats,  
For with us still they would  
Cut seas and compass lands.  
The darkness no more sure  
To join with heavy night:  
The light which guilds the days  
To follow Titan pure:  
No more the shadow light  
The body to ensue:  
Then wretchedness always  
Us wretches to pursue.  
O blessed who never breathed,  
Or whom with pity moved,  
Death from his cradle reaved,  
And swaddled in his grave:  
And blessed also he  
(As curse may blessing have)  
Who low and living free  
No princes charge hath proved.  
By stealing sacred fire.  
Prometheus then unwise,  
provoking Gods to ire,  
the heap of ills did stir,  
and sickness pale and cold  
our end which onward spur,  
to plague our hands too bold  
to filch the wealth of skies.  
In heavens hate since then  
of ill with ill enchained  
we raze of mortal men  
full fraught our breasts have borne  
and thousand thousand woes  
our heavenly souls now thorn,  
which free before from those  
no! earthly passion pained.  
War and wars bitter cheer  
now long time with us stay,  
and fear of hated foe  
still still increaseth sore:  
our harms worse daily grow,  
less yesterday they were  
then now, and will be more  
tomorrow then today.   

Act. 2.  Philostratus. 
What horrible fury, what cruel rage,  
O Egypt so extremely thee torments?  
Hast thou the Gods so angered by thy fault?  
Hast thou against them some such crime conceived.  
That their engrained hand lift up in threats  
They should desire in thy heart blood to bathe?  
And that their burning wrath which nought can quench  
Should pitiless on us still lighten down?  
We are not hewn out of the monstrous mass  
Of Giants those, which heavens wrack conspired:  
Ixion's race, false prater of his loves:  
Nor yet of him who feigned lightnings found:  
Nor cruel Tantalus, nor bloody Atreus,  
Whose cursed banquet for Thyestes plague  
Made the beholding Sun for horror turn  
His back, and backward from his course return:  
And hastening his wing-footed horse's race  
Plunge him in sea for shame to hide his face:  
While sullen night upon the wondering world  
For midday's light her starry mantle cast.  
But what we be, whatever wickedness  
By us is done, Alas! with what more plagues,  
More eager torments could the Gods declare  
To heaven and earth that us they hateful hold?  
With soldiers, strangers, horrible in arms  
Our land is hid, our people drowned in tears.  
But terror here and horror, nought is seen:  
And present death prising our life each hour.  
Hard at our ports and at our porches waits  
Our conquering foe: hearts fail us, hopes are dead:  
Our Queen laments: and this great Emperor  
Sometime (would now they did) whom worlds did fear  
Abandoned, betrayed, now minds no more  
But from his evils by hastened death to pass.  
Come! you poor people tired with ceaseless plaints  
With tears and sighs make mournful sacrifice  
On Isis' altars: not ourselves to save,  
But soften Caesar and him piteous make  
To us, his pray: that so his lenity  
May change our death into captivity.  
Strange are the evils the fates on us have brought,  
O but alas! how far more strange the cause!  
Love, love (alas, whoever would have thought?)  
Hath lost this Realm inflamed with his fire.  
Love, playing love, which men say kindles not  
But in soft hearts, hath ashes made our towns.  
And his sweet shafts, with whose shot none are killed,  
Which ulcer not, with deaths our lands have filled,  
Such was the bloody, murdering, hellish love  
Possessed thy heart fair false guest Priam's son,  
Firing a brand which after made to burn  
The Trojan towers by Grecians ruinate.  
By this love, Priam, Hector, Troilus,  
Memnon, Deiphobus, Glaucus, thousands more.  
Whom red Scamander's armour clogged streams  
Rolled into Seas, before their dates are dead.  
So plaguy he, so many tempests raiseth,  
So murdering he, so many Cities raiseth,  
When insolent, blind, lawless, orderless,  
With made delights our sense he entertains.  
All knowing Gods our wracks did us foretell  
By signs in earth, by signs in starry Spheres,  
Which should have moved us, had not destiny  
With too strong hand warped our misery.  
The Comets flaming through the scattered clouds  
With fiery beams, most like unbraided hairs:  
The fearful dragon whistling at the banks:  
And holy Apis ceaseless bellowing  
(As never erst) and shedding endless tears:  
Blood raining down from heaven in unknown showers:  
Our God's dark faces over cast with woe,  
And dead men's Ghosts appearing in the night.  
Yea even this night while all the City stood  
Oppressed with terror, horror, servile fear,  
Deep silence over all: the sounds were heard  
Of divers songs, and diverse instruments,  
Within the void of air: and howling noise,  
Such as mad Bacchus' priests in Bacchus' feasts  
On Nisa make: and (seemed) the company,  
Our City lost, went to the enemy.  
So we forsaken both of Gods and men,  
So are we in the mercy of our foes:  
And we henceforth obedient must become  
To laws of them who have us overcome.  Chorus. 
Lament we our mishaps,  
Drown we with tears our woe:  
For Lamentable haps  
Lamented easy grow:  
and much less torment bring  
then when they first did spring.  
We want that woeful song,  
wherewith wood music's Queen  
doth ease her woes, among,  
fresh spring-time's bushes green,  
on pleasant branch alone  
renewing ancient moan.  
We want that moanful sound,  
that prattling Progne makes  
on fields of Thracian ground,  
or streams of Thracian lakes:  
to empt her breast of pain  
for Itys by her slain.  
Though haltions do still,  
bewailing Ceyx's lot,  
the Seas with plainings fill  
which his dead limbs have got,  
not ever other grave  
than tomb of waves to have:  
And though the bird in death  
that most Meander loves:  
so sweetly sighs his breath  
when death his fury proves,  
as almost softs his heart,  
and almost blunts his dart:  
Yet all the plaints of those,  
nor all their tearful larmes,  
cannot content our woes,  
nor serve to wail the harms,  
in soul which we, poor we.  
to feel enforced be.  
Nor they of Phoebus bred  
in tears can do so well,  
they for their brother shed,  
who into Padus fell,  
rash guide of chariot clear  
surveyor of the year.  
Nor she whom heavenly powers  
to weeping rock did turn,  
whose tears distill in showers,  
and show she yet doth mourn,  
wherewith his top to Skies  
mount Sipylus doth rise.  
Nor weeping drops which flow  
from bark of wounded tree,  
that Myrrha's shame doth show  
with ours compared may be,  
to quench her loving fire  
who durst embrace her fire.  
Nor all the howlings made  
on Cybel's sacred hill  
By eunuchs of her trade,  
Who Atys, Atys still  
with doubled cries resound,  
which Echo makes rebound.  
Our plaints no limits stay,  
nor more than do our woes:  
both infinitely stray  
and neither measure knows  
In meam sure let them plain:  
Who measured griefs sustain.  Cleopatrra. Eras. Charmton. Diomede. Cleopatra. 
That I have thee betrayed, dear antony,  
My life, my soul, my sun? I had such thought?  
That I have thee betrayed my Lord, my King?  
That I would break my vowed faith to thee?  
I ave thee? deceive thee? yield thee to the rage  
Of mighty foe? I ever had that heart?  
Rather sharp lightning lighten on my head:  
Rather may I to deepest mischief fall:  
Rather the opened earth devour me:  
Rather fierce Tigers feed them on my flesh:  
Rather, o rather let our Nilus send,  
To swallow me quick, some weeping Crocodile.  
And didst thou then suppose my royal heart  
Had hatched, thee to ensnare, a faithless love?  
And changing mind, as Fortune changed cheer,  
I would weak thee, to win the stronger, loose?  
O wretch! o caitiff! o too cruel hap!  
And did not I sufficient loss sustain  
Losing my Realm, losing my liberty,  
My tender offspring, and the joyful light  
Of beamy Sun, and yet, yet losing more  
Thee Antony my care, if I lose not  
What yet remained? thy love alas! thy love,  
More dear than Sceptre, children, freedom, light  
So ready I to row in Charon's barge,  
Shall lose the joy of dying in thy love:  
So the sole comfort of my misery  
To have one tomb with thee is me bereft.  
So I in shady plains shall plain alone,  
Not (as I hoped) companion of thy moan,  
O height of grief! Eras why with Continual cries  
Your grieffull harms do you exasperate?  
Torment yourself with murdering complaints;  
Strain your weak breast so oft, so vehemently?  
Water with tears this fair alabaster?  
With sorrows sting so many beauties wound?  
Come of so many Kings want you the heart  
Bravely, stoutly, this tempest to resist?  Cl. 
My evils are wholly unsupportable,  
No human force can them withstand, but death.  Eras. 
To him that strives nought is impossible.  Cl. 
In striving lies no hope of my mishaps.  Eras. 
All things do yield to force of lovely face.  Cl. 
My face too lovely caused my wretched case.  
My face hath so entrapped, so cast us down,  
That for his conquest Caesar may it thank,  
Causing that antony one army lost  
The other wholly did to Caesar yield.  
For not enduring (so his amorous sprite  
Was with my beauty fired) my shameful flight,  
Soon as he saw from rank wherein he stood  
In hottest fight, my Galleys making sail:  
Forgetful of his charge (as if his soul  
Unto his Lady's soul had been enchained)  
He left his men, who so courageously  
Did leave their lives to gain him victory.  
And careless both of fame and Army's loss  
My oared Galleys followed with his ship's  
Companion of my flight, by this base part  
Blasting his former flourishing renown.  Eras. 
Are you therefore cause of his overthrow?  Cl. 
I am sole cause: I did it, only I.  Er. 
Fear of a woman troubled so his sprite?  Cl. 
Fire of his love was by my fear inflamed.  Er. 
And should he then to war have led a Queen?  Cl. 
Alas! this was not this offence, but mine.  
Antony (ay me! who else so brave a chief!)  
Would not I should have taken Seas with him:  
But would have left me fearful woman far  
From common hazard of the doubtful war.  
O that I had believed! now, now of Rome  
All the great Empire at our beck should bend.  
All should obey, the vagabonding Scythes,  
The feared Germans, back-shooting Parthians,  
wandering Numidians, Britons far removed,  
And tawny nations scorched with the Sun.  
But I cared not: so was my soul possessed,  
(To my great harm) with burning jealousy:  
Fearing lest in my absence Antony  
Should leaving me retake Octavia.  Char. 
Such was the rigour of your destiny.  Cl. 
Such was my error and obstinacy.  Ch. 
But since Gods would not, could you do withal?  Cl. 
Always from God's good haps, not harms, do fall.  Ch. 
And have they not all power on men's affairs?  Cl. 
They never bow so low, as worldly cares.  
But leave to mortal men to be disposed  
Freely on earth whatever mortal is.  
If we therein sometimes some faults commit,  
We may them not to their high majesties,  
But to ourselves impute; whose passions  
Plunge us each day in all afflictions.  
Wherewith when we our souls do thorned feel,  
Flattering ourselves we say they destinies are:  
That gods would have it so, and that our care  
Could not impeach but that it must be so.  Char. 
Things here below are in the heavens begot,  
Before they be in this our world borne:  
And never can our weakness turn awry  
The stayless course of powerful destiny.  
Nought here force, reason, humane providence,  
Holy devotion, noble blood prevails:  
And jove himself whose hand doth heavens rule,  
Who both to gods and men as King Commands,  
Who earth (our firm support) with plenty stores,  
mouse's air and sea with twinkling of his eye,  
Who all can do, yet never can undo  
What once hath been by their hard laws decreed.  
When Trojan walls, great Neptune's workmanship.  
Environed were with Greeks, and Fortunes wheel  
Doubtful ten years now to the camp did turn,  
And now again towards the town returned.  
How many times did force and fury swell  
In Hector's veins egging him to the spoil  
Of conquered foes, which at his blows did fly,  
As fearful sheep at feared wolves approach:  
To save (in vain: for why? it would not be)  
Poor walls of Troy from adversaries rage,  
Who died them in blood, and cast to ground  
Heaped them with bloody burning carcases.  
No, madam, think, that if the ancient crown  
Of your progenitors that Nilus ruled,  
Force take from you; the Gods have willled it so,  
To whom oft times Princes are odious.  
They have to every thing an end ordained;  
All worldly greatness by them bounded is:  
Some sooner, later some, as they think best:  
None their decree is able to infringe.  
But, which is more, to us disastered men  
Which subject are in all things to their will,  
Their will is hid: nor while we live, we know  
How, or how long we must in life remain.  
Yet must we not for that feed on despair,  
And make us wretched ere we wretched be:  
But always hope the best, even to the last,  
That from ourselves the mischief may not grow.  
Then, madam, help yourself, leave of in time  
Antony's wrack, left it your wrack procure:  
Retire you from him, save from wrathful rage  
Of angry Caesar both your Realm and you.  
You see him lost, so as your amity  
Unto his evils can yield no more relief.  
You see him ruined, so as your support  
No more henceforth can him with comfort raise.  
Withdraw you from the storm: persist not still  
To lose yourself: this royal diadem  
Regain of Caesar.  Cl. 
Sooner shining light  
Sall leave the day, and darkness leave the night:  
Sooner moist currents of tempestuous seas  
Shall wave in heaven, and the nightly troops  
Of stars shall shine within the foaming waves,  
Than I thee, Antony, Leave in deep distress.  
I am with thee, be it thy worthy soul  
Lodge in thy breast, or from that lodging part  
Crossing the joyless lake to take her place  
In place prepared for men demi-gods.  
Live, if thee please, if life be loathsome die:  
Dead and alive, Antony, thou shalt see  
Thy princess follow thee, follow, and lament,  
Thy wrack, no less her own then was thy weal.  Char. 
What helps his wrack this everlasting love?.  Cl. 
Help, or help not, such must, such ought I prove.  Ch. 
Ill done to lose yourself, and to no end.  Cl. 
How ill think you to follow such a friend?  Ch. 
But this your love nought mitigates his praine.  Cl. 
Without this love I should be inhuman.  Ch, 
Inhuman he, who his own death pursues.  Cl. 
Not inhuman who miseries eschews.  Ch. 
Live for your sons.  Cl. 
Nay for their father die.  Ch. 
hard-hearted mother!  Cl. 
Wife kindhearted I.  Ch. 
Then will you them deprive of royal right?  Cl, 
Do I deprive them? no, it's destiny's might.  Ch. 
Do you not them deprive of heritage,  
That give them up to adversaries hands,  
A man forsaken fearing to forsake,  
Whom such huge numbers hold environed?  
T'abandon one 'gainst whom the frowning world  
Banded with Caesar makes conspiring war.  Cl. 
The less ought I to leave him lest of all.  
A friend in most distress should most assist.  
If that when antony great and glorious  
His legions led to drink Euphrates streams,  
So many Kings in train redoubting him;  
In triumph raised as high as highest heaven;  
Lordlike disposing as him pleased best,  
The wealth of Greece, the wealth of Asia:  
In that fair fortune had I him exchanged  
For Caesar, then, men would have counted me  
Faithless, unconstant, light: but now the storm,  
And blustering tempest driving on his face,  
Ready to drown, Alas! what would they say?  
What would himself in Plato's mansion say?  
If, I whom always more than life he loved,  
If I, Who am his heart, who was his hope,  
Leave him, forsake him (and perhaps in vain)  
Weakly to please who him hath overthrown?  
Not light, unconstant, faith less should I be,  
But vile, forsworn, of treacherous cruelty.  Ch. 
Cruelty to shun you self-cruel are:  Cl. 
Self-cruel him from cruelty to spare.  Ch. 
Our first affection to ourself is due.  Cl. 
He is myself.  Ch. 
Next it extends unto  
Our children, friends, and to our country soil.  
And you for some respect of wifely love,  
(Albe scarce wifely) lose your native land,  
Your children, friends, and (which is more) your life,  
With so strong charms doth love bewitch our wits:  
So fast in us this fire once kindled flames.  
Yet if his harm by yours redress might have,  Cl. 
With mine it may be closed in darksome grave.  Ch. 
And that, as Alcest to herself unkind,  
You might exempt him from the laws of death.  
But he is sure to die: and now his sword  
Already moisted is in his warm blood,  
Helpless for any succour you can bring  
Against death's sting, which he must shortly feel.  
Then let your love be like the love of old  
Which Carian Queen did nourish in her heart  
Of her Mausolus: build for him a tomb  
Whose stateliness a wonder new may make.  
Let him, let him have sumptuous funerals:  
Let grave thereon the horror of his fights:  
Let earth be buried with unburied heaps.  
Frame their Pharsaly, and discoloured streams  
Of deep Enipeus: frame the grassy plain,  
Which lodged his camp at siege of Mutina.  
Make all his combats, and courageous acts:  
And yearly plays to his praise institute:  
Honour his memory: with doubled care  
Breed and bring up the children of you both  
In Caesar's grace: who as a noble Prince  
Will leave them Lords of this most glorious realm.  Cl. 
What shame were that? ah Gods! what infamy?  
With Antony in his good haps to share,  
And overlive him dead: deeming enough  
To shed some tears upon a widow tomb?  
The after-livers justly might report  
That I him only for his Empire loved  
And high estate: and that in hard estate  
I for another did him lewdly leave?  
Like to those birds wafted with wandering wings.  
From foreign lands in spring-time here arrive:  
And live with us so long as summer's heat,  
And their food lasts, then seek another soil.  
And as we see with ceaseless fluttering  
Flocking of silly flies a brownish cloud  
To vintaged wine yet working in the ton:  
Not parting thence while they sweet liquour taste:  
After, as smoke, all vanish in the air,  
And of the swarm not one so much appear.  Eras. 
By this sharp death what profit can you win?  Cl. 
I neither gain nor profit seek therein.  Er. 
What praise shall you of afterages get?  Cl. 
Nor praise, nor Glory in my cares are set.  Eras. 
What other end ought you respect, than this?  Cl. 
My only end my only duty is.  Eras. 
Your duty must upon some good be founded?  Cl. 
On virtue it, the only good, is grounded.  Er. 
What is that Virtue?  Cl. 
That which us beseems.  Er. 
Outrage ourselves? who that beseeming deems?  Cl. 
Finish I will my sorrows dying thus.  Er. 
Minish you will your glories doing thus.  Cl. 
Good friends I pray you seek not to revoke  
My fixed intent of following Antony.  
I will die. I will die: must not his life,  
His life and death by mine be followed?  
meanwhile, dear sisters, live: and while you live,  
Do often honour to our loved Tombs.  
Straw them with flowers: and sometimes happily  
The tender thought of Antony your Lord  
And me poor soul to tears shall you invite,  
And our true loves to doleful voice commend.  Ch. 
And think you madam, we from you will part?  
Think you alone to feel deaths ugly dart?  
Think you to leave us? and that the same sun  
Shall see at once you dead, and us alive?  
we'll die with you: and Clotho pitiless  
Shall us with you in hellish boat embark:  Cl. 
Ah live, I pray you: this disastered woe  
Which racks my heart, alone to me belongs:  
My lot longs not to you: servants to be  
No shame, no harm to you, as is to me.  
Live sisters, live, and seeing his suspect  
Hath causeless me in sea of sorrows drowned,  
And that I cannot live, if so I would,  
Nor yet would leave this life, if so I could,  
Without his love: procure me, Diomed,  
That 'gainst poor me he be no more incensed.  
Wrest out of his conceit that harmful doubt,  
That since his wrack he hath of me conceived  
Though wrong conceived: witness you reverent Gods,  
Barking Anubis, Apis bellowing.  
Tell him, my soul burning, impatient,  
Forlorn with love of him, for certain seal  
Of her true loyalty my corpse hath left,  
t'increase of dead the number numberless,  
Go then, and if as yet he me bewail,  
If yet for me his heart one sigh fourth breath  
Blessed shall I be: and far with more content  
Depart this world, where so I me torment.  
Mean season us let this sad tomb enclose,  
Attending here till death conclude our woes.  Diom. 
I will obey your will.  Cl. 
So the desert  
The Gods repay of thy true faithful heart.  Diomed. 
And is't not pity, Gods, ah Gods of heaven  
To see from love such hateful fruits to spring?  
And is't not pity that this firebrand so  
Lays waste the trophies of Phillippi fields?  
Where are those sweet allurements, those sweet looks,  
Which gods themselves right heart sick would have made  
What doth that beauty, rarest gift of heaven,  
Wonder of earth? Alas! what do those eyes?  
And that sweet voice all Asia understood,  
And sunburnt Afrique wide in deserts spread?  
Is their force dead? have they no further power?  
Can not by them Octavius be surprised?  
Alas! if jove in midst of all his ire,  
With thunderbolt in hand some land to plague,  
Had cast his eyes on my Queen, out of hand  
His Plaguing bolt had fallen out of his hand:  
Fire of his wrath into vain smoke should turn,  
And other fire within his breast should burn.  
Nought lives so fair. Nature by such a work  
herself, should seem, in workmanship hath passed.  
She is all heavenly: never any man  
But seeing her was ravished with her sight.  
The alablaster covering of her face,  
The coral colour her two lips engrains,  
Her beamy eyes, two Suns of this our world,  
Of her fair hair the fine and flaming gold,  
Her brave straight stature, and her winning parts  
Are nothing else but fierce, fetters, darts.  
Yet this is nothing th'enchanting skills  
Of her celestial spirit, her training speech,  
Her grace, her majesty, and forcing voice,  
Whither she it with finger's speech consort,  
Or hearing sceptred kings ambassadors  
Answer to each in his own language make.  
Yet now at need it aids her not at all  
With all these beauties, so her sorrow stings.  
Darkened with woe her only study is  
To weep, to sigh, to seek for loneliness.  
Careless of all, her hair disordered hangs:  
Her charming eyes whence murdering looks did fly,  
Now rivers grown', whose wellspring anguish is,  
Do trickling wash the marble of her face.  
Her fair discovered breast with sobbing swollen  
Self cruel she still martyreth with blows,  
Alas! It's our ill hap, for if her tears  
She would convert into her loving charms,  
To make a conquest of the conqueror,  
(As well she might, would she her force employ)  
She should us safety from these ills procure,  
Her crown to her, and to her race assure.  
Unhappy he, in whom self-succour lies,  
Yet self-forsaken wanting succour dies.  Chorus. 
O sweet fertile land, wherein  
Phoebus did with breath inspire  
man who men did first begin,  
formed first of Nilus' mire.  
whence of Arts the eldest kinds,  
earth's most heavenly ornament,  
were as from their fountain sent  
to enlight our misty minds.  
whose gross sprite from endless time  
as in darkened prison penned,  
never did to knowledge climb.  
Where the Nile, our father good,  
fatherlike doth never miss  
yearly us to bring such food,  
as to life required is:  
visiting each year this plain,  
and with fat slime covering it,  
which his seven mouths do spit,  
as the season comes again.  
making thereby greatest grow  
busy reapers joyful pain,  
when his floods do highest flow.  
wandering Prince of rivers thou,  
honour of the Aethiops land,  
of a Lord and master now  
thou a slave in awe must stand.  
now of Tiber which is spread  
less in force, and less in fame  
reverence thou must the name,  
whom all other rivers dread,  
for his children swollen in pride,  
who by conquest seek to tread  
round this earth on every side.  
Now thou must begin to send  
tribute of thy watery store,  
as sea paths thy steps shall bend,  
yearly presents more and more.  
thy fat scum, our fruitful corn,  
peeled from hence with thievish hands  
all unclothed shall leave our lands  
into foreign country borne.  
which puffed up with such a prey  
shall thereby the praise adorn  
of that sceptre Rome doth sway.  
Nought thee helps thy horns to hide  
far from hence in unknown grounds,  
that thy waters wander wide,  
yearly breaking banks, and bounds.  
and that thy Sky-coloured brooks  
through a hundred people's pass,  
drawing plots for trees and grass  
with a thousand turns and crooks.  
whom all weary of their way  
thy throats which in wideness pass  
power into their mother Sea.  
Nought so happy hapless life  
in this world as freedom finds:  
nought wherein more sparks are rise  
to inflame courageous minds.  
but if force must us enforce  
needs a yoke to undergo,  
under foreign yoke to go  
Still it proves a bondage worse.  
and doubled subjection  
see we shall, and feel, and know  
subject to a stranger grown.  
From hence forward for a King,  
whose first being from this place  
should his breast by nature bring  
care of country to embrace,  
We at surly face must quake  
of some Roman madly bent:  
who our terror to augment.  
his proconsul's axe will shake.  
driving with our Kings from hence  
our established government,  
justice sword, and laws defence.  
Nothing worldly of such might  
but more mighty Destiny,  
by swift Times unbridled flight,  
makes in end his end to see.  
every thing Time overthrows,  
nought to end doth steadfast stay.  
his great scythe mows all away  
as the stalk of tender rose.  
only immortality  
of the heavens doth it oppose  
'gainst his powerful Deity.  
One day there will come a day  
which shall quail they fortune's flower  
and thee ruined low shall lay  
in some barbarous PRINCE's power.  
when the pity-wanting fire  
shall, O Rome, thy beauties burn,  
and to humble ashes turn  
thy proud wealth and rich attire,  
those guilt roofs which turretwise,  
justly making envy mourn,  
threaten now to pierce Skies.  
As thy forces fill each land  
harvests making here and there,  
reaping all with ravening hand  
they find growing anywhere:  
from each land so to thy fall,  
multitudes repair shall make,  
from the common spoil to take  
what to each man's share may fall.  
fingered all thou shalt behold:  
no jot left for tokens sake  
that thou wert so great of old.  
Like unto the ancient Troy  
whence derived thy founders be,  
conquering foe shall thee enjoy,  
and a burning pray in thee.  
for within this turning ball  
this we see, and see each day:  
all things fixed ends do stay,  
ends to first beginnings fall.  
& that nought, how strong or strange  
changeless doth endure alway,  
But endureth fatal change.   
M. Antonius. Lucilius. M. Ant. 
Lucil. sole comfort of my bitter case,  
The only trust, the only hope I have,  
In last despair: Ah is not this the day  
That death should me of life and love bereave?  
What wait I for that have no refuge left,  
But am sole remnant of my fortune left?  
All leave me, fly me: none, Noah not of them  
Which of my greatness greatest good received,  
Stands with my fall: they seem as now ashamed  
That heretofore they did me ought regard:  
They draw them back, showing they followed me,  
Not to partake my harms, but cozen me.  Lu. 
In this our world nothing is steadfast found,  
In vain he hopes, who here his hopes doth ground.  An. 
Yet nought afflicts me, nothing kills me so,  
As that I so my Cleopatra see  
practice with Caesar, and to him transport  
My flame, her love, more dear than life to me.  Lu. 
Believe it not: Too high a heart she bears,  
Too princely thoughts.  An. 
Too wise a head she wear  
Too much inflamed with greatness, evermore  
Gaping for our great empire's government.  Lu. 
So long time you her constant love have tried.  An. 
But still with me good fortune did abide.  Lu. 
Her changed love what token makes you know?  An. 
Pelusium lost, and Actium overthrow,  
Both by her fraud: my well appointed fleet,  
And trusty Soldiers in my quarrel armed,  
Whom she, false she, in stead of my defence,  
Came to persuade, to yield them to my foe:  
Such honour there done, such welcome given,  
Their long close talks I neither knew, nor would,  
And treacherous wrong Alexas hath me done,  
Witness too well her perjured love to me.  
But you O Gods (if any faith regard)  
With sharp revenge her faithless change reward.  Lu. 
The dole she made upon our overthrow,  
Her realm given up for refuge to our men,  
Her poor attire when she devoutly kept  
The solemn day of her nativity,  
Again the cost and prodigal expense  
show'd when she did your birth day celebrate,  
Do plain enough her heart unfeigned prove,  
Equally touched, you loving, as you love.  Ant. 
Well; be her love to me or false, or true,  
Once in my soul a cureless wound I feel.  
I jove: nay burn in fire of her love:  
Each day, each night her Image haunts my mind,  
herself my dreams: and still I tired am,  
And still I am with burning pincers nipped.  
Extreme my harm: yet sweeter to my sense  
Then boiling Torch of jealous torments fire:  
This grief, nay rage, in me such stir doth keep,  
And thorns me still, both when I wake and sleep.  
Take Caesar conquest, take my goods, take he  
Th'honour to be Lord of the earth alone,  
My sons, my life bent headlong to mishaps:  
No force, so not my Cleopatra take.  
So foolish I, I cannot her forget,  
Though better were I banished her my thought.  
Like to the sick whose throat the fevers fire  
Hath vehemently with thirsty drought inflamed,  
Drinks still, albe the drink he still desires  
Be nothing else but fuel to his flame.  
He cannot rule himself: his health's respect  
Yieldeth to his distempered stomachs heat.  Lu. 
Leave of this love, that thus renews your woe.  An. 
I do my best, but ah! can not do so.  Lu. 
Think how you have so brave a captain been,  
And now are by this vain affection fallen.  An. 
The ceaseless thought of my felicity  
Plunges me more in this adversity.  
For nothing so a man in ill torments,  
As who to him his good state represents.  
This makes my rack, my anguish, and my woe  
Equal unto the hellish passions grow,  
When I to mind my happy puissance call  
Which erst I had by warlike conquest won,  
And that good fortune which me never left,  
Which hard disaster now hath me bereft.  
With terror tremble all the world I made  
At my sole word, as Rushes in the streams  
At waters will: I conquered italy,  
I conquered Rome, that nations so redoubt.  
I Bore( meanwhile besieging Mutina)  
Two consuls armies for my ruin brought.  
Bathed in their blood, by their deaths witnessing  
My force and skill in matters Martial.  
To wreak thy uncle, unkind Caesar, I  
With blood of enemies the banks embrued  
Of stained Enipeus, hindering his course  
Stopped with heaps of piled carcases:  
When Cassius and Brutus ill betide  
Marched against us, by us twice put to flight,  
But by my sole conduct: for all the time  
Caesar heart-sick with fear and fever lay.  
Who knows it not? and how by every one  
Fame of the fact was given to me alone.  
There sprang the love, the never changing love,  
Wherein my heart hath since to yours been bound:  
There was it, my Lucill, you Brntus saved,  
And for your Brutus Antony, you found.  
Better my hap in gaining such a friend,  
Then in subduing such an enemy.  
Now former virtue dead doth me forsake,  
Fortune engulfs me in extreme distress:  
She turns from me her smiling countenance,  
Casting on me mishap upon mishap,  
Left and betrayed of thousand thousand friends,  
Once of my suit, but you Lucill are left  
Remaining to me steadfast as a tower  
In holy love, in spite of fortunes blasts.  
But if of any God my voice be heard,  
And be not vainly scattered in the heavens,  
Such goodness shall not gloryless be lost.  
But coming ages still there of shall boast.  Lu. 
Men in their friendship ever should be one,  
And never ought with fickle Fortune shake,  
Which still removes, nor will, nor knows the way,  
Her rolling bowl in one sure state to stay.  
Wherefore we ought as borrowed things receive  
The goods light she lends us to pay again:  
Not hold them sure, nor on them build our hopes  
As on such goods as cannot fail, and fall:  
But think again, nothing is durable,  
Virtue except, our never failing host:  
So bearing sail when favouring winds do blow,  
As frowning tempests may us least dismay  
When they on us do fall: not overglad  
With good estate, nor over-grieved with bad.  
Resist mishap.  Ant. 
Alas! it is too strong.  
Mishaps oft times are by some comfort borne:  
But these, ay me! whose weights oppress my heart,  
Too heavy lie, no hope can them relieve.  
There rests no more, but that with cruel blade  
For lingering death a hasty way be made.  Lu, 
Caesar, as heir unto his father's state.  
So will his Father's goodness imitate,  
To you ward: whom he knows allied in blood,  
Allied in marriage, ruling equally  
Th' Empire with him, and with him making war  
Have purged the earth of Caesar's murderers.  
You into portions parted have the world  
Even like coheirs their heritage's part:  
And now with one accord so many years  
In quiet peace both have your charges ruled.  Ant. 
Blood and alliance nothing do prevail  
To cool the thirst of hot ambitious breasts:  
The son his Father hardly can endure,  
Brother his brother, in one common Realm.  
So fervent this desire to Command:  
Such jealousy it kindleth in our hearts,  
Sooner will men permit another should  
Love her they love then wear the crown they wear.  
All laws it breaks, turns all things upside down:  
Amity, kindred, nought so holy is  
but it defiles. A monarchy to gain  
None cares which way, so he may it obtain.  Lu. 
Suppose he Monarch be and that this world  
No more acknowledge sundry Emperors,  
That Rome him only fear, and that he join  
The east with west, and both at once do rule:  
Why should he not permit you peaceably  
Discharged of charge and empire's dignity,  
Private to live reading Philosophy,  
In learned Greece, Spain, Asia, any land?  An. 
Never will he his Empire think assured  
While in this world Mark Antony shall live.  
sleepless Suspicion, Pale distrust, cold fear  
Always to PRINCE's company do bear  
Bred of reports: reports which night and day  
Perpetual guests from court go not away.  Lu. 
He hath not slain your brother Lucius,  
Nor shortened hath the age of Lepidus,  
Albeit both into his hands were fallen,  
And he with wrath against them both inflamed.  
Yet one, as Lord in quiet rest doth bear.  
The greatest sway in great Iberia:  
The other with his gentle Prince retains  
Of highest Priest the sacred dignity.  An. 
He fears not them, their feeble force he knows.  Lu. 
He fears no vanquished overfilled with woes.  An. 
Fortune may change again.  L. 
A downcast foe  
Can hardly rise, which once is brought so low.  Ant. 
All that I can is done: for last assay  
(When all means failed) I to entreaty fell,  
(Ah coward creature!) whence again repulsed  
Of combat I unto him proffer made:  
Though he in prime, and I by feeble age  
Mightily weakened both in force and skill.  
Yet could not he his coward heart advance  
Basely afraid to try so praiseful chance.  
This makes me plain, makes me myself accuse,  
Fortune in this her spiteful force doth use  
'Gainst my grey hairs: in this unhappy I  
Repine at heavens in my haps pitiless.  
A man, a woman both in might and mind,  
In Mars his school who never lesson learned,  
Should me repulse, chase, overthrow, destroy,  
Me of such fame, bring to so low an ebb?  
Alcides blood, who from my infancy  
With happy prowess crowned have my praise  
Witness thou Gaul unused to servile yoke,  
Thou valiant Spain, you fields of thessaly  
With millions of mourning cries bewailed,  
Twice watered now with blood of italy.  Lu. 
Witness may afric, and of conquered world  
All four quarters witnesses may be.  
For in what part of earth inhabited,  
Hungry of praise have you not ensigns spread?  Ant. 
Thou know'st rich Egypt (Egypt of my deeds  
Fair and foul subject) Egypt ah! thou know'st  
How I behaved me fighting for thy king,  
When I regained him his rebellious Realm:  
Against his foes in battle showing force,  
And after fight in victory remorse.  
Yet if to bring my glory to the ground,  
Fortune had made me overthrown by one  
Of greater force, of better skill than I:  
One of those Captains feared so of old,  
Camill, Marcellus, Worthy Scipio,  
This late great Caesar, honour of our state,  
Or that great Pompey aged grown in arms;  
That after harvest of a world of men  
Made in a hundred battles, fights, assaults,  
My body thorough pierced with push of pike  
Had vomited my blood, in blood my life,  
In midst of millions fellows in my fall:  
The less her wrong, the less should my woe:  
Nor she should pain, nor I complain me so.  
No, no, whereas I should have died in arms,  
And vanquished oft new armies should have armed,  
New battles given, and rather lost with me  
All this whole world submitted unto me:  
A man who never saw enlaced pikes  
With bristled points against his stomach bent,  
Who fears the field, and hides him cowardly  
Dead at the very noise the soldiers make.  
His virtue, fraud, deceit, malicious guile,  
His arms the arts that false Ulysses used,  
Known at Modena, where the Consuls both  
Death-wounded were, and wounded by his men  
To get their army, war with it to make  
Against his faith, against his country soil,  
Of Lepidus, which to his succours came,  
To honour whom he was by duty bound,  
The Empire he usurped: corrupting first  
with baits and bribes the most part of his men.  
Yet me hath overcome, and made his prey,  
And state of Rome, with me hath overcome.  
Strange! one disordered act at Actium  
The earth subdued, my glory hath obscured.  
For since, as one whom heavens wrath attaints  
With fury caught, and more than furious  
Vexed with my evils, I never more had care  
My armies lost, or lost name to repair:  
I did no more resist.  Lu. 
all wars affairs,  
But battles most, daily have their success  
Now good, now ill: and though that fortune have  
Great force and power in every worldly thing,  
Rule all, do all, have all things fast enchained  
Unto the circle of her turning wheel:  
Yet seems it more than any practice else  
She doth frequent Bellona's bloody trade:  
And that her favour, wavering as the wind,  
Her greatest power therein doth oftenest show.  
Whence grows, we daily see, who in their youth  
Get honour there, do lose it in their age,  
Vanquished by some less warlike than themselves:  
Whom yet a meaner man shall overthrow.  
Her use is not to lend us still her hand,  
But sometimes headlong back a gain to throw,  
When by her favour she hath us extolled  
Unto the top of highest happiness.  Ant. 
well ought I curse within my grieved soul,  
Lamenting day and night, this senseless love,  
Whereby my fair enticing foe entrapped  
My heedless Reason, could no more escape.  
It was not fortunes ever changing face:  
It was not destiny's changeless Violence  
Forged my mishap. Alas! who doth not know  
They make, nor mar, nor any thing can do.  
Fortune, which men so fear, adore, detest,  
Is but a chance whose cause unknown doth rest.  
Although oft times the cause is well perceived,  
But not th'effect the same that was conceived.  
Pleasure, nought else, the plague of this our life,  
Our life which still a thousand plagues pursue,  
Alone hath me this strange disaster spun,  
fallen from a soldier to a chamberer,  
Careless of virtue, careless of all praise.  
Nay, as the fatted swine in filthy mire  
With glutted heart I wallowed in delights,  
All thoughts of honour trodden under foot.  
So I me lost: for finding this sweet cup  
Pleasing my taste, unwise I drunk my fill,  
And through the sweetness of that poison's power  
By steps I drove my former wits astray.  
I made my friends, offended me forsake,  
I holp my foes against myself to rise.  
I robbed my subjects, and for followers  
I saw myself be set with flatterers.  
Mine idle arms fair wrought with spider's work,  
My scattered men without their ensigns strayed:  
Caesar meanwhile who never would have dared  
To cope with me, me suddenly despised,  
Took heart to fight, and hoped for victory  
On one so gone, who glory had foregone.  Lu. 
enchanting pleasure Venus sweet delights  
Weaken our bodies, overcloud our sprights,  
Trouble our reason, from our hearts out chase  
All holy virtues lodging in their place:  
Like as the cunning fisher takes the fish  
By traitor bait whereby the hooks is hid:  
So Pleasure serves to vice in steed of food  
To bait our souls thereon too liquorish.  
This poison deadly is alike to all,  
But on great kings doth greatest outrage work,  
Taking the royal sceptres from their hands,  
Thence forward to be by some stranger borne:  
While that their people charged with heavy loads  
Their flatterers pill, and suck their marry dry,  
Not ruled but left to great men as a prey,  
While this fond Prince himself in pleasures drowns  
Who hears nought, sees nought, doth nought of a king  
Seeming himself against himself conspire.  
Then equal justice wandereth banished,  
And in her seat sits greedy Tyranny.  
Confused disorder troubleth all estates,  
Crimes without fear and outrages are done.  
Then mutinous Rebellion shows her face,  
Now hid with this, and now with that pretence,  
Provoking enemies, which on each side  
Enter at ease, and make them Lords of all.  
The hurtful works of pleasure here behold,  An. 
The wolf is not so hurtful to the fold,  
Frost to the grapes, to ripened fruits the rain:  
As pleasure is to princes full of pain.  Lu. 
There needs no proof, but by th' Assyrian king,  
On whom that Monster woeful wrack did bring.  An. 
There needs no proof, but by unhappy I,  
Who lost my empire, honour, life thereby,  Lu 
Yet hath this ill so much the greater force,  
As scarcely any do against it stand:  
No not the demi-gods the old world knew,  
Who all subdued, could pleasure's power subdue.  
Great Hercules, Hercules once that was  
Wonder of earth and heaven, matchless in might,  
Who Anteus, Lycus, Geryon overcame,  
Who drew from hell the triple-headed dog,  
Who Hydra killed, vanquished Achelous,  
Who heavens weight on his strong shoulders bore;  
Did he not under pleasure's burden bow?  
Did he not Captive to this passion yield,  
When by his Captive, so he was inflamed,  
As now yourself in Cleopatra burn?  
Slept in her lap, her bosom kissed and kissed,  
With base unseemly service bought her love,  
Spinning at distaff, and with sinewy hand  
Winding on spindle's thread, in maids attire?  
His conquering club at rest on wall did hang:  
His bow unstringed he bent not as he used:  
Upon his shafts the weaving spider's spun:  
And his hard cloak the fretting moths did pierce.  
The monsters free and fearless all the time  
Throughout the world the people did torment.  
And more and more increasing day by day  
Scorned his weak heart become a mistress play.  An. 
In only this like Hercules am I,  
In this I prove me of his lineage right:  
In this himself, his deeds I show in this:  
In this, nought else, my ancestor he is.  
But go we: die I must, and with brave end  
Conclusion make of all foregoing harms:  
Die, die I must: I must a noble death,  
A glorious death unto my succour call:  
I must deface the shame of time abused,  
I must adorn the wanton loves I used,  
With some courageous act: that my last day  
By mine own hand my spots may wash away.  
Come dear Lucill: alas! why weep you thus!  
This mortal lot is common to us all.  
We must all die, each doth in homage owe  
Unto that God that shared the Realms below  
Ah sigh no more: alas! appease your woes,  
For by your grief my grief more eager grows,  Chorus. 
Alas, with what tormenting fire  
Us martyreth this blind desire  
to stay our life from flying!  
How ceaselessly our minds doth rack,  
How heavy lies upon our back  
This dastard fear of dying!  
Death rather healthful succour gives,  
Death rather all mishaps relieves  
That life upon us throweth:  
And ever to us death unclose  
The door whereby from cureless woes  
Our weary soul out goeth.  
What Goddess else more mild than she  
To bury all our pain can be,  
What remedy more pleasing?  
Our pained hearts when dolour stings,  
And nothing rest, or respite brings,  
What help have we more easing?  
Hope which to us doth comfort give,  
And doth our fainting hearts revive,  
Hath not such force in anguish:  
For promising a vain relief  
She oft us fails in midst of grief,  
And helpless let's us languish.  
But Death who call on her at need  
Doth never with vain semblant feed,  
But when them sorrow paineth,  
So rids their souls of all distress  
Whose heavy weight did them oppress,  
That not one grief remaineth.  
Who fearless and with courage bold  
Can Acheron's black face behold,  
Which muddy water beareth:  
And crossing over in the way  
Is not amazed at Perruque grey  
Old rusty Charon weareth?  
Who void of dread can look upon  
The dreadful shades that Rome alone,  
On banks where sound no voices:  
Whom with her firebrands and her Snakes  
No whit afraid Allecto makes,  
Nor triple-barking noises:  
Who freely can himself dispose  
Of that last hour which all must close,  
And leave this life at pleasure:  
This noble freedom more esteems,  
And in his heart more precious deems,  
Then crown and kingly treasure,  
The waves which Boreas blasts turmoil  
And cause with foaming fury boil,  
Make not his heart to tremble:  
Nor brutish broil, when with strong head  
A rebel people madly led  
Against their Lords assemble:  
Nor fearful face of Tyrant wood,  
Who breaths but threats, & drinks but blood,  
No, nor the hand which thunder,  
The hand of jove which thunder bears,  
And ribs of rocks in sunder tears,  
Tears mountains sides in sunder:  
Nor bloody Mars's butchering bands,  
Whose lightnings desert lay the lands  
Whom dusty clouds do cover:  
From of whose armour sunbeams fly,  
And under them make quaking lie  
The plains whereon they hover:  
Nor yet the cruel murd'ring blade  
Warm in the moisty bowels made  
Of people pell-mell dying  
In some great City put to sack  
By savage Tyrant brought to wrack,  
At his cold mercy lying.  
How abject him, how base think I,  
Who wanting courage can not die  
When need him thereto calleth?  
From whom the dagger drawn to kill  
The cureless griefs that vex him still  
For fear and faintness falleth?  
O Antony with thy dear mate  
Both in misfortunes fortunate!  
Whose thoughts to death aspiring  
Shall you protect from victor's rage,  
Who on each side doth you encage,  
To triumph much desiring.  
That Caesar may you not offend  
Nought else but death can you defend,  
Which his weak force derideth.  
And all in this round earth contained,  
powerless on them whom once enchained  
avernus prison hideth:  
Where great Psammetique's ghost doth rest,  
Not with infernal pain possessed,  
But in sweet fields detained:  
And old Amasis' soul likewise,  
And all our famous Ptolemy's  
That whilom on us reigned.   

Act. 4  Caesar. Agrippa. Dircetus. the Messenger. Caesar. 
You everliving Gods which all things hold  
Within the power of your celestial hands,  
By whom heat, cold, the thunder, and the wind,  
The properties of enter changing months  
Their course and being have; which do set down  
Of Empires by your destinied decree  
The force, age, time, and subject to no change  
Change all, reserving nothing in one state:  
You have advanced, as high as thundering heaven  
The Romans greatness by Bellona's might:  
Mastering the world with fearful violence,  
Making the world widow of liberty.  
Yet at this day this proud exalted Rome  
Despoiled, captived, at one man's will doth bend:  
Her Empire mine, her life is in my hand,  
As Monarch I both world and Rome command;  
Do all, can all; forth my commandment cast  
Like thundering fire from one to other Pole  
Equal to jove: bestowing by my word  
Haps and mishaps, as Fortune's King and Lord.  
No town there is, but up my Image sets,  
But sacrifice to me doth daily make:  
Whither where Phoebus join his mourning steeds,  
Or where the night them weary entertains,  
Or where the heat the Garamants doth scorch,  
Or where the cold from Boreas breast is blown:  
All Caesar do both awe and honour bear,  
And crowned Kings his very name doth fear.  
Antony knows it well, for whom not one  
Of all the Princes all this earth do rule,  
Arms against me: for all redoubt the power  
which heavenly powers on earth have made me bear.  
Antony, he poor man with fire inflamed  
A woman's beauties kindled in his heart.  
Rose against me, who longer could not bear  
My sisters wrong he did so ill entreat:  
Sing her left while that his lewd delights  
Her husband with his Cleopatra took  
In Alexandria, where both nights and days  
Their time they passed in nought but loves and plays  
All Asia's forces into one he drew,  
And forth he set upon the azured waves  
A thousand and a thousand Ships, which filled  
With Soldiers, pikes, with targets, arrows, darts,  
Made Neptune quake, and all the watery troops  
Of Glauques, and Tritons lodged at Actium,  
But mighty Gods, who still the force withstand  
Of him, who causeless doth another wrong,  
In less than moment's space reduced to nought  
All that proud power by Sea or land he brought.  Agr. 
Presumptuous pride of heigh and haughty sprite,  
Voluptuous care of fond and foolish love,  
Have justly wrought his wrack: who thought he held  
(By overweening) Fortune in his hand.  
Of us he made no count, but as to play,  
So fearless came our forces to assay.  
So sometimes fell to Sons of mother earth,  
Which crawled to heaven war on the God to make,  
Olymp on Pelion, Ossa on Olymp,  
Pindus on Ossa loading by degrees:  
That at hand strokes with mighty clubs the might  
On mossy rocks the Gods make tumble down:  
When mighty jove with burning anger chafed,  
disbrained with him Gyges and Briareus,  
Blunting his darts upon their bruised bones.  
For no one thing the Gods can less abide  
In deeds of men, than Arrogance and pride.  
And still the proud, which too much takes in hand,  
Shall foulest fall, where best he thinks to stand.  Caes. 
Right as some Palace, or some stately tower,  
Which overlooks the neighbour buildings round  
In scorning wise, and to the stars up grows,  
Which in short time his own weight overthrows.  
What monstrous pride, nay what impiety  
Incensed him onward to the God's disgrace?  
When his two children, Cleopatra's brats,  
To Phoebe and her brother he compared,  
Latona's race, causing them to be called  
The Sun and Moon? Is not this folly right  
And is not this the Gods to make his foes?  
And is not this himself to work his woes?  Agr. 
In like proud sort he caused his head to lose  
The jewish king Antigonus, to have  
His Realm for balm, that Cleopatra loved,  
As though on him he had some treason proved.  Caes 
Lidia to her, and Siria he gave,  
Cyprus of gold, Arabia rich of smells:  
And to his children more Cilicia,  
Parths, Medes, Armenia, Phoenicia:  
The kings of kings proclaiming them to be,  
By his own word, as by a sound decree.  Agr. 
What? Robbing his own country of her due  
Triumphed he not in Alexandriae,  
Of Artabasus the Armenian King,  
Who yielded on his perjured word to him?  Caes. 
Nay, never Rome more injuries received,  
Since thou, o Romulus, by flight of birds  
With happy hand the Roman walls didst build,  
Than Antony's fond loves to it hath done.  
Nor ever war more holy, nor more just,  
Nor undertaken with more hard constraint,  
Then is this war: which were it not, our state  
Within small time all dignity should lose:  
Though I lament (thou Sun my witness art,  
And thou great jove) that it so deadly proves:  
That Roman blood should in such plenty flow,  
Watering the fields and pastures where we go.  
What Carthage in old hatred obstinate,  
What Gaul still barking at our rising state,  
What rebel Samnite, what fierce Pyrrhus' power,  
What cruel Mithridate, what Parth hath wrought  
Such woe to Rome? whose common wealth he had,  
(Had he been victor) into Egypt brought.  Agr. 
Surely the Gods, which have this city built  
Steadfast to stand as long as time endures,  
Which keep the Capitol, of us take care,  
And care will take of those shall after come,  
Have made you victor, that you might redress  
Their honour grown by passed mischiefs less.  Caes. 
The seely man when all the Greekish Sea  
His fleet had hid, in hope me sure to drown,  
Me battle gave: where fortune in my stead,  
Repulsing him his forces disarrayed.  
Himself took flight, soon as his love he saw  
All wan through fear with full sails fly away.  
His men, though lost, whom none did now direct,  
With courage fought fast grappled ship with ship,  
Charging, resisting, as their oars would serve,  
With darts, with swords, with pikes, with fiery flames.  
So that the darkened night her starry vail  
Upon the bloody sea had overspread,  
Whilst yet they held: and hardly, hardly then  
They fell to flying on the wavy plain,  
All full of soldiers overwhelmed with waves.  
The air throughout with cries & groans did sound:  
The sea did blush with blood: the neighbour shores  
Groaned, so they with shipwrecks pestered were,  
And floating bodies left for pleasing food  
To birds, and beasts, and fishes of the sea,  
You know it well Agrippa.  Ag. 
Meet it was  
The Roman Empire so should ruled be,  
As heaven is ruled: which turning over us,  
All under things by his example turns.  
Now as of heaven one only Lord we know:  
One only Lord should rule this earth below.  
When one self power is common made to two  
Their duties they nor suffer will, nor do.  
In quarrel still, in doubt, in hate, in fear;  
meanwhile the people all the smart do bear.  Caes. 
Then to the end none, while my days endure,  
Seeking to raise himself may succours find,  
We must with blood mark this our victory,  
For just example to all memory  
Murder we must, until not one we leave,  
Which may hereafter us of rest be.  Ag. 
Mark it with murders? Who of that can like?  Cae. 
Murders must use, who doth assurance seek.  Ag. 
Assurance call you enemies to make?  Cae. 
I make no such, but such away I take.  Ag. 
Nothing so much as rigour doth displease.  Cae. 
Nothing so much doth make me live at ease.  Ag. 
What ease to him that feared is of all?  Cae. 
Feared to be, and see his foes to fall.  Ag. 
Commonly fear doth breed and nourish hate.  Cae. 
Hate without power comes commonly too late.  Ag. 
A feared Prince hath oft his death desired  Cae. 
A Prince not feared hath oft his wrong conspired.  Ag. 
No guard so sure, no fort so strong doth prove.  
No such defence, as is the people's love.  Cae. 
Nought more unsure more weak, more like the wind,  
Than people's favour still to change inclined.  Ag. 
Good Gods! what love to gracious prince men bear!  Cae. 
What honour to the Prince that is severe!  Ag. 
Nought more divine then is benignity.  Cae. 
Nought likes the Gods as doth Severity.  Ag. 
Gods all forgive.  Cae. 
On faults they pains do lay.  Ag. 
And give their goods.  C. 
Oft times they take away  Ag. 
They wreak them not, o Caesar, at each time  
That by our sins they are to wrath provoked.  
Neither must you (believe, I humbly pray)  
Your victory with cruelty defile.  
The Gods it gave, it must not be abused,  
But to the good of all men mildly used,  
And they be thanked: that having given you grace  
To reign alone, and rule this earthly mass,  
They may henceforward hold it still in rest,  
All scattered power united in one breast.  Cae. 
But what is he that breathless comes so fast,  
Approaching us, and going in such haste?  Ag. 
He seems afraid: and under his arm I  
(But much I err) a bloody sword espy.  Cae. 
I long to understand what it may be.  Ag. 
He hither comes: it's best we stay and see.  Dirce. 
What good God now my voice will reinforce,  
That tell I may to rocks, and hills, and woods,  
To waves of sea, which dash upon the shore,  
To earth, to heaven, the woeful news I bring?  A. 
What sudden chance thee towards us hath brought  Dir. 
A lamentable chance. O wrath of heavens!  
O Gods too pitiless!  Caes. 
What monstrous hap  
Wilt thou recount?  Dir. 
Alas too hard mishap!  
When I but dream of what mine eyes beheld,  
My heart doth freeze, my limbs do quivering quake,  
I senseless stand, my breast with tempest tossed  
Kills in my throat my words, ere fully borne.  
Dead, dead he is: be sure of what I say,  
This murdering sword hath made the man away.  Caes. 
Alas my heart doth cleave, pity me racks,  
My breast doth pant to hear this doleful tale.  
Is Antony then dead? to death, alas!  
I am the cause despair him so compelled.  
But soldier of his death the manner show,  
And how he did this living light forego.  Dir. 
When Antony no hope remaining saw  
How war he might, or how agreement make,  
Saw him betrayed by all his men of war  
In every fight as well by sea, as land;  
That not content to yield them to their foes  
They also came against himself to fight:  
Alone in court he 'gan himself torment,  
Accuse the Queen, himself of her lament,  
Called her untrue and traitoress, as who sought  
To yield him up she could no more defend:  
That in the harms which for her sake he bore,  
As in his blissful state, she might not share.  
But she again, who much his fury feared,  
Got to the tombs, dark horrors dwelling place:  
Made lock the doors, and pull the hearses down.  
Then fell she wretched, with herself to fight.  
A thousand plaints, a thousand sobs she cast  
From her weak breast which to the bones was torn.  
Of women her the most unhappy called,  
Who by her love, her woeful love, had lost  
Her realm, her life, and more the love of him,  
Who while he was, was all her woes support.  
But that she faultless was she did invoke  
For witness heaven, and air, and earth, and sea.  
Then sent him word, she was no more alive,  
But lay enclosed dead within her tomb.  
This he believed; and fell to sigh and groan,  
And crossed his arms, than thus began to moan.  C. 
Poor hopeless man!  D. 
What dost thou more attend  
Ah Antony! why dost thou death defer.  
Since Fortune thy professed enemy,  
Hath made to die, who only made thee live?  
Soon as with sighs he had these words up closed,  
His armour he unlaced and cast it off,  
Then all disarmed he thus again did say:  
My Queen, my heart, the grief that now I feel.  
Is not that I your eyes, my Sun, do lose,  
For soon again one tomb shall us conjoin:  
I grieve, whom men so valorous did deem,  
Should now, than you, of lesser valour seem.  
So said, forthwith he Erisychthon to him called,  
Erisychthon his man; summoned him on his faith  
To kill him at his need. He took the sword,  
And at that instant stabbed therewith his breast,  
And ending life fell dead before his feet.  
O Erisychthon thanks (quoth Antony) for this  
Most noble act, who powerless me to kill,  
On thee hast done, what I on me should do.  
Of speaking thus he scarce had made an end,  
And taken up the bloody sword from ground,  
But he his body pierced; and of red blood  
A gushing fountain all the chamber filled.  
He staggered at the blow, his face grew pale,  
And on a couch all feeble down he fell,  
Sounding with anguish: deadly cold him took,  
As if his soul had then his lodging left  
But he reviv'd, and marking all our eyes,  
Bathed in tears, and how our breasts we beat  
For pity, anguish, and for bitter grief,  
To see him plunged in extreme wretchedness:  
He prayed us all to haste his lingering death:  
But no man willing, each himself withdrew.  
Then fell he new to cry and vex himself,  
Until a man from Cleopatra came,  
Who said from her he had commandment  
To bring him to her to the monument.  
The poor soul at these words even rapt with joy  
Knowing she lived, prayed us him to convey  
Unto his Lady. Then upon our arms  
We bore him to the Tomb, but entered not.  
For she who feared captive to be made,  
And that she should to Rome in triumph go,  
Kept close the gate but from a window high  
Cast down a cord, wherein he was impact.  
Then by her women's help the corpse she raised,  
And by strong arms into her window drew.  
So pitiful a sight was never seen.  
Little and little Antony was pulled,  
Now breathing death: his beard was all unkempt,  
His face and breast all bathed in his blood.  
So hideous yet, and dying as he was,  
His eyes half-closed upon the Queen he cast:  
Held up his hands, and holp himself to raise,  
But still with weakness back his body fell.  
The miserable lady with moist eyes,  
With hair which careless on her forehead hung,  
With breast which blows had bloodily benumbed,  
With stooping head, and body downward bent,  
Enlaced her in the cord, and with all force  
This life-dead man courageously upraised,  
The blood with pain into her face did flow,  
Her sinews stiff, herself did breathless grow.  
The people which beneath in flocks beheld,  
Assisted her with gesture, speech, desire:  
Cried and encouraged her, and in their souls  
Did sweat, and labour, no whit less than she.  
Who never tired in labour, held so long  
Helped by her women, and her constant heart,  
That Antony was drawn into the tomb,  
And there (I think) of dead augments the sum.  
The city all to tears and sighs is turned,  
To plaints and outcries horrible to hear:  
Men, women, children, hoary-headed age  
Do all pell-mell in house and street lament,  
Scratching their faces, tearing of their hair,  
Wringing their hands, and martyring their breasts  
Extreme their dole: and greater misery  
In sacked towns can hardly ever be.  
Not if the fire had scaled the highest towers:  
That all things were of force and murder full;  
That in the streets the blood in rivers streamed;  
The son his sire saw in his bosom slain,  
The sire his son: the husband and rest of breath  
In his wives arms, who furious runs to death.  
Now my breast wounded with their piteous plaints  
I left their town, and took with me this sword,  
Which I took up at what time Antony  
Was from his chamber carried to the tomb:  
And brought it you, to make his death more plain,  
And that thereby my words may credit gain.  Cas. 
Ah Gods what cruel hap! poor Antony,  
Alas hast thou this sword so long time borne  
Against thy foe, that in the end it should  
Of thee his Lord the cursed murderer be?  
O Death how I bewail thee! we (alas!)  
So many wars have ended, brothers, friends,  
Companions, cozens, equals in estate:  
And must it now to kill thee be my fate?  Ag. 
Why trouble you yourself with bootless grief?  
For Antony why spend you tears in vain?  
Why darken you with dole your victory?  
Me seems yourself your glory do envy.  
Enter the town, give thanks unto the Gods.  Cae. 
I cannot but his tearful chance lament,  
Although not I, but his own pride the cause,  
And unchaste love of this Egyptian.  Agt. 
But best we sought into the tomb to get,  
Lest she consume in this amazed case  
So much rich treasure, with which happily  
Despair in death may make her feed the fire:  
Suffering the flames her jewels to deface,  
You to defraud, her funeral to grace.  
Send then to her, and let some mean be used  
With some devise so hold her still alive,  
Some fair large promises: and let them mark  
Whither they may by some fine cunning slight  
Enter the tombs. Caesar. Let Proculeius go,  
And feed with hope her soul disconsolate.  
Assure her so, that we may wholly get  
Into our hands her treasure and herself.  
For this of all things most I do desire  
To keep her safe until our going hence:  
That by her presence beautified may be  
The glorious triumph Rome prepares for me.  Chorus of Roman Soldiers. 
Shall ever civil bate  
gnaw and devour our state?  
shall never we this blade,  
our blood hath bloody made,  
lay down? these arms down lay  
as robes we wear always?  
but as from age to age.  
so pass from rage to rage?  
Our hands shall we not rest  
to bathe in our own breast?  
and shall thick in each land  
our wretched trophies stand,  
to tell posterity,  
what mad Impiety  
our stony stomachs led  
against the place us bred?  
Then still must heaven view  
the plagues that us pursue.  
and everywhere descry  
Heaps of us scattered lie,  
making the stranger plains  
fat with our bleeding rains,  
proud that on them their grave  
so many legions have.  
And without fleshes still  
Neptune his fishes fill  
and drunk with blood from blue  
the sea take blushing hue:  
as juice of Tyrian shell,  
when clarified well  
to wool of finest fields  
a purple gloss it yields.  
But since the rule of Rome,  
to one man's hand is come,  
who governs without mate  
her now united state,  
late jointly ruled by three  
envying mutually,  
whose triple yoke much woe  
on Latins necks did throw:  
I hope the cause of jar,  
and of this bloody war,  
and deadly discord gone  
by what we last have done:  
our banks shall cherish now  
the branchy pale-hewed bow  
of Olive, Pallas praise,  
in stead of barren bay.  
And that his temple door,  
which bloody Mars before  
held open, now at last  
old janus shall make fast:  
and rust the sword consume,  
and spoiled of waving plume,  
The useless morion shall  
on crook hang by the wall.  
At least if war return  
It shall not here sojourn,  
to kill us with those arms  
were forged for others' harms:  
but have their points addressed,  
against the Germans breast,  
The Parthians feigned flight,  
the Biscayne's martial might.  
Old Memory doth there  
painted on forehead wear  
our Father's praise: thence torn  
our triumphs bay have worn:  
thereby our matchless Rome  
whilom of Shepherds come  
raised to this greatness stands,  
the Queen of foreign lands.  
Which now even seems to face  
the heavens, her glory's place:  
nought resting under skies  
that dares affront her eyes.  
So that she needs but fear  
the weapons jove doth bear,  
who angry at one blow  
may her quite overthrow.   

Act. 5,  Cleopatra. Euphron. Children of Cleopatra. Charmion. Eras. Cleop. 
O cruel fortune! o accursed lot!  
O plaguy love! o most detested brand!  
O wretched joys! o beauties miserable!  
O deadly state! o deadly royalty!  
O hateful life! o Queen most lamentable!  
O Antony by my fault buriable!  
O hellish work of heaven! alas! the wrath  
Of all the Gods at once on us is fallen.  
Unhappy Queen! o would I in this world  
The wandering light of day had never seen?  
Alas! of mine the plague and poison I  
The crown have lost my ancestors me left,  
This Realm I have to strangers subject made,  
And robbed my children of their heritage.  
Yet this is nought (alas!) unto the price  
Of you dear husband, whom my snares entrapped:  
Of you, whom I have plagued, whom I have made  
With bloody hand a guest of mouldy tomb:  
Of you, whom I destroyed, of you, dear Lord,  
Whom I of Empire, honour, life have spoiled.  
O hurtful woman! and can I yet live,  
Yet longer live in this Ghost-haunted tomb?  
Can I yet breath! can yet in such annoy,  
Yet can my soul within this body dwell?  
O Sisters you that spin the threads of death!  
O Styx! o Phlegethon! you brooks of hell!  
O Imps of Night!  Euph. 
Live for your children's sake:  
Let not your death of kingdom them deprive.  
Alas what shall they do who will have care?  
Who will preserve this royal race of yours?  
Who pity take? even now me seems I see  
These little souls to servile bondage fallen,  
And borne in triumph.  Cl. 
Ah most miserable!  Euph. 
Their tender arms with cursed cord fast bound  
At their weak backs.  Cl. 
Ah Gods what pity more!  Euph. 
Their silly necks to ground with weakness bend  Cl. 
Never on us, good Gods, such mischief send.  Euph. 
And pointed at with fingers as they go.  Cl. 
Rather a thousand deaths.  Euph. 
Lastly his knife  
Some cruel caitiff in their blood imbrue.  Cl. 
Ah my heart breaks. By shady banks of hell,  
By fields whereon the lonely Ghosts do tread,  
By my soul, and the soul of Antony  
I you beseech, Euphron, of them have care.  
Be their good Father, let your wisdom let  
That they fall not into this Tyrants hands.  
Rather conduct them where their freezed locks  
Black Aethiops to neighbour Sun do show;  
On wavy Ocean at the waters will;  
On barren cliffs of snowy Caucasus;  
To Tigers swift, to Lions, and to Bears;  
And rather, rather unto every coast,  
To every land and sea: for nought I fear  
As rage of him, whose thirst no blood can quench.  
Adieu dear children, children dear adieu:  
Good Isis you to place of safety guide,  
Far from our foes, where you your lives may lead  
In free estate devoid of servile dread.  
Remember not, my children, you were borne  
Of such a Princely race: remember not  
So many brave Kings which have Egypt ruled  
In right descent your ancestors have been:  
That this great Antony your father was,  
Hercules' blood, and more than he in praise.  
For your high courage such remembrance will,  
Sing your fall with burning rages fill.  
Who knows if that your hands false Destiny  
The Sceptres promised of imperious Rome,  
In stead of them shall crooked sheephooks bear,  
Needles or forks, or guide the cart, or plough?  
Ah learn t'endure: your birth and high estate  
Forget, my babes, and bend to force of fate.  
Farewell, my babes, farewell my heart is closed,  
With pity and pain, myself with death enclosed,  
My breath doth fail. Farewell for evermore,  
Your Sire and me you shall see never more.  
Farewell sweet care, farewell.  Chil. 
madam Adieu.  Cl. 
Ah this voice kills me. Ah good Gods! I swoon.  
I can no more, I die.  Eras. 
madam, alas!  
And will you yield to woe? Ah speak to us.  Eu, 
Come Children.  Chil. 
We come.  Eu. 
Follow we our chance.  
The Gods shall guide us.  Char. 
O too cruel lot!  
O too hard chance! Sister what shall we do,  
What shall we do, alas! if murdering dart  
Of death arrive while that in slumbering swoon  
Half dead she lie with anguish overgone?  Er, 
Her face is frozen.  Ch. 
madam for God's love  
Leave us not thus: bid us yet first farewell.  
Alas! weep over Antony: Let not  
His body be without due rites entombed.  Cl. 
Ah, ah.  Char. 
madam.  Cl. 
Ay me!  Ch. 
How faint she is?  Cl. 
My Sisters, hold me up. How wretched I,  
How cursed am: and was there ever one  
By Fortune's hate into more dolours thrown?  
Ah, weeping Niobe, although thy heart  
Beholds itself enwrapped in causeful woe  
For thy dead children, that a senseless rock  
With grief become, on Sipylus thou stand'st  
In endless tears: yet didst thou never feel  
The weights of grief that on my heart do lie.  
Thy Children thou, mine I poor soul have lost,  
And lost their Father, more than them I wail,  
Lost this fair realm; yet me the heavens wrath  
Into a stone not yet transformed hath.  
Phaeton's sisters, daughters of the Sun,  
Which wail your brother fallen into the streams  
Of stately Po: the Gods upon the banks  
Your bodies to bank-loving Alders turned.  
For me, I sigh, I ceaseless weep, and wail,  
And heaven pitiless laughs at my woe,  
Revives, renews it still: and in the end  
(Oh cruelty!) doth death for comfort lend.  
Die Cleopatra then no longer stay  
From Antony, who thee at Styx attends:  
Go join thy Ghost with his, and sob no more  
Without his love within these tombs enclosed.  Eras. 
Alas! yet let us weep, lest sudden death  
From him our tears, and those last duties take  
Unto his tomb we owe.  Ch. 
Ah let us weep  
While moisture lasts, then die before his feet.  Cl. 
Who furnish will mine eyes with streaming tears  
My boiling anguish worthily to wail,  
Wail thee Antony, Antony my heart?  
Alas, how much I weeping liquour want!  
Yet have mine eyes quite drawn their Conduits dry  
By long beweeping my disastered harms.  
Now reason is that from my side they suck  
First vital moisture, than the vital blood.  
Then let the blood from my sad eyes outflow,  
And smoking yet with thine in mixture grow.  
Moist it, and heat it new, and never stop,  
All watering thee, while yet remains one drop.  Ch. 
Antony take our tears: this is the last  
Of all the duties we to thee can yield,  
Before we die.  Er. 
These sacred obsequies  
Take Antony, and take them in good part.  Cl. 
O Goddess thou whom Cyprus doth adore,  
Venus of Paphos, bent to work us harm  
For old julus brood, if thou take care  
Of Caesar, why of us tak'st thou no care?  
Antony did descend, as well as he,  
From thine own Son by long enchained line:  
And might have ruled by one and self same fate,  
True Trojan blood, the stately Roman state.  
Antony, poor Antony, my dear soul,  
Now but a block, the booty of a tomb,  
Thy life thy heat is lost, thy colour gone,  
And hideous paleness on thy face hath seized.  
Thy eyes, two Suns, the lodging place of love,  
Which yet for tents to warlike Mars did serve,  
Locked up in lids (as fair days cheerful light  
Which darkness flies) do winking hide in night.  
Antony by our true loves I thee beseech,  
And by our hearts sweet sparks have set on fire,  
Our holy marriage, and the tender ruth  
Of our dear babes, knot of our amity:  
My doleful voice thy ear let entertain,  
And take me with thee to the hellish plain,  
Thy wife, thy friend: hear Antony, o hear  
My sobbing sighs, if here thou be, or there.  
Lived thus long, the winged race of years  
Ended I have as Destiny decreed.  
Flourished and reigned, and taken just revenge  
Of him who me both hated and despised.  
Happy, alas too happy: if of Rome  
Only the fleet had hither never come.  
And now of me an Image great shall go  
Under the earth to bury there my woe.  
What say I? where am I? o Cleopatra,  
Poor Cleopatra, grief thy reason reaves.  
No, no, most happy in this hapless case,  
To die with thee, and dying thee embrace:  
My body joined with thine, my mouth with thine,  
my mouth, whose moisture burning sighs have dried  
To be in one self tumble, and one self chest,  
And wrapped with thee in one self sheet to rest.  
The sharpest torment in my heart I feel  
Is that I stay from thee, my heart, this while.  
Die will I straight now, now straight will I die,  
And straight with thee a wandering shade will be,  
Under the Cypress trees thou hauntest alone,  
Where brooks of hell do falling seem to moan.  
But yet I stay, and yet thee overlive,  
That ere I die due rites I may thee give.  
A thousand sobs I from my breast will tear,  
With thousand plaints thy funerals adorn:  
My hair shall serve for thy oblations,  
My boiling tears for thy effusions,  
Mine eyes thy fire: for out of them the flame  
(Which burned thy heart on me enamoured) came.  
Weep my companions, weep, and from your eyes  
Rain down on him of tears a brinish stream.  
Mine can no more, consumed by the coals  
Which from my breast, as from a furnace rise.  
martyr your breasts with multiplied blows,  
With violent hands tear of your hanging hair,  
Outrage your face: alas! why should we seek  
(Since now we die) our beauties more to keep?  
I spent in tears, not able more to spend,  
But kiss him now, what rests me more to do?  
Then let me kiss you, you fair eyes, my light,  
Front seat of honour, face most fierce, most fair!  
O neck, o arms, o hands, o breast where death  
(O mischief) comes to choke up vital breath.  
A thousand kisses, thousand thousand more  
Let you my mouth for honours farewell give:  
That in this office weak my limbs may grow,  
Fainting on you, and fourth my soul may flow.  
At Rams bury. 26. of November. 1590.   

Printed at London by P. S. for William Ponsonby. 1595.