SCENE XV. The same. A monument. Antony and Cleopatra  Shakespeare homepage  |  Antony and Cleopatra  | Act 4, Scene 15 

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 Enter CLEOPATRA and her maids aloft, with CHARMIAN and IRAS  CLEOPATRA  O Charmian, I will never go from hence. 

 CHARMIAN  Be comforted, dear madam. 

 CLEOPATRA  No, I will not: 

 All strange and terrible events are welcome, 

 But comforts we despise; our size of sorrow, 

 Proportion'd to our cause, must be as great 

 As that which makes it. 



 Enter, below, DIOMEDES  How now! is he dead? 

 DIOMEDES  His death's upon him, but not dead. 

 Look out o' the other side your monument; 

 His guard have brought him thither. 



 Enter, below, MARK ANTONY, borne by the Guard  CLEOPATRA  O sun, 

 Burn the great sphere thou movest in! 

 darkling stand 

 The varying shore o' the world. O Antony, 

 Antony, Antony! Help, Charmian, help, Iras, help; 

 Help, friends below; let's draw him hither. 

 MARK ANTONY  Peace! 

 Not Caesar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony, 

 But Antony's hath triumph'd on itself. 

 CLEOPATRA  So it should be, that none but Antony 

 Should conquer Antony; but woe 'tis so! 

 MARK ANTONY  I am dying, Egypt, dying; only 

 I here importune death awhile, until 

 Of many thousand kisses the poor last 

 I lay up thy lips. 

 CLEOPATRA  I dare not, dear,-- 

 Dear my lord, pardon,--I dare not, 

 Lest I be taken: not the imperious show 

 Of the full-fortuned Caesar ever shall 

 Be brooch'd with me; if knife, drugs, 

 serpents, have 

 Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe: 

 Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes 

 And still conclusion, shall acquire no honour 

 Demuring upon me. But come, come, Antony,-- 

 Help me, my women,--we must draw thee up: 

 Assist, good friends. 

 MARK ANTONY  O, quick, or I am gone. 

 CLEOPATRA  Here's sport indeed! How heavy weighs my lord! 

 Our strength is all gone into heaviness, 

 That makes the weight: had I great Juno's power, 

 The strong-wing'd Mercury should fetch thee up, 

 And set thee by Jove's side. Yet come a little,-- 

 Wishes were ever fools,--O, come, come, come; 



 They heave MARK ANTONY aloft to CLEOPATRA  And welcome, welcome! die where thou hast lived: 

 Quicken with kissing: had my lips that power, 

 Thus would I wear them out. 

 All  A heavy sight! 

 MARK ANTONY  I am dying, Egypt, dying: 

 Give me some wine, and let me speak a little. 

 CLEOPATRA  No, let me speak; and let me rail so high, 

 That the false housewife Fortune break her wheel, 

 Provoked by my offence. 

 MARK ANTONY  One word, sweet queen: 

 Of Caesar seek your honour, with your safety. O! 

 CLEOPATRA  They do not go together. 

 MARK ANTONY  Gentle, hear me: 

 None about Caesar trust but Proculeius. 

 CLEOPATRA  My resolution and my hands I'll trust; 

 None about Caesar. 

 MARK ANTONY  The miserable change now at my end 

 Lament nor sorrow at; but please your thoughts 

 In feeding them with those my former fortunes 

 Wherein I lived, the greatest prince o' the world, 

 The noblest; and do now not basely die, 

 Not cowardly put off my helmet to 

 My countryman,--a Roman by a Roman 

 Valiantly vanquish'd. Now my spirit is going; 

 I can no more. 

 CLEOPATRA  Noblest of men, woo't die? 

 Hast thou no care of me? shall I abide 

 In this dull world, which in thy absence is 

 No better than a sty? O, see, my women, 



 MARK ANTONY dies  The crown o' the earth doth melt. My lord! 

 O, wither'd is the garland of the war, 

 The soldier's pole is fall'n: young boys and girls 

 Are level now with men; the odds is gone, 

 And there is nothing left remarkable 

 Beneath the visiting moon. 



 Faints  CHARMIAN  O, quietness, lady! 

 IRAS  She is dead too, our sovereign. 

 CHARMIAN  Lady! 

 IRAS  Madam! 

 CHARMIAN  O madam, madam, madam! 

 IRAS  Royal Egypt, Empress! 

 CHARMIAN  Peace, peace, Iras! 

 CLEOPATRA  No more, but e'en a woman, and commanded 

 By such poor passion as the maid that milks 

 And does the meanest chares. It were for me 

 To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods; 

 To tell them that this world did equal theirs 

 Till they had stol'n our jewel. All's but naught; 

 Patience is scottish, and impatience does 

 Become a dog that's mad: then is it sin 

 To rush into the secret house of death, 

 Ere death dare come to us? How do you, women? 

 What, what! good cheer! Why, how now, Charmian! 

 My noble girls! Ah, women, women, look, 

 Our lamp is spent, it's out! Good sirs, take heart: 

 We'll bury him; and then, what's brave, 

 what's noble, 

 Let's do it after the high Roman fashion, 

 And make death proud to take us. Come, away: 

 This case of that huge spirit now is cold: 

 Ah, women, women! come; we have no friend 

 But resolution, and the briefest end. 



 Exeunt; those above bearing off MARK ANTONY's body  Shakespeare homepage  |  Antony and Cleopatra  | Act 4, Scene 15 

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