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Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, and IRAS
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Char. Be juster, Heaven; such virtue punished thus,
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Will make us think that chance rules all above,
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And shuffles, with a random hand, the lots,
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Which man is forced to draw.
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Cleo. I could tear out these eyes, that gained his heart,
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And had not power to keep it. O the curse
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Of doting on, even when I find it dotage!
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Bear witness, gods, you heard him bid me go;
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You, whom he mocked with imprecating vows
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Of promised faith!-I'll die; I will not bear it.
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You may hold me- [She pulls out her dagger, and they hold her.
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But I can keep my breath; I can die inward,
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And choke this love.
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Enter ALEXAS
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Iras. Help, O Alexas, help!
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The queen grows desperate; her soul struggles in her
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With all the agonies of love and rage,
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And strives to force its passage.
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Cleo. Let me go.
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Art thou there, traitor!-O,
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O for a little breath, to vent my rage,
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Give, give me way, and let me loose upon him.
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Alex. Yes, I deserve it, for my ill-timed truth.
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Was it for me to prop
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The ruins of a falling majesty?
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To place myself beneath mighty flaw,
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Thus to be crushed, and pounded into atoms,
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By its o'erwhelming weight? 'Tis too presuming
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For subjects to preserve that wilful power,
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Which courts its own destruction.
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Cleo. I would reason
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More calmly with you. Did not you o'errule,
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And force my plain, direct, and open love,
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Into these crooked paths of jealousy?
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Now, what's the event? Octavia is removed;
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But Cleopatra's banished. Thou, thou villain,
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Hast pushed my boat to open sea; to prove,
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At my sad cost, if thou canst steer it back.
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It cannot be; I'm lost too far; I'm ruined:
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Hence, thou impostor, traitor, monster, devil!-
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I can no more: Thou, and my griefs, have sunk
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Me down so low, that I want voice to curse thee.
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Alex. Suppose some shipwrecked seaman near the shore,
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Dropping and faint, with climbing up the cliff,
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If, from above, some charitable hand
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Pull him to safety, hazarding himself,
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To draw the other's weight; would he look back,
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And curse him for his pains? The case is yours;
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But one step more, and you have gained the height.
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Cleo. Sunk, never more to rise.
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Alex. Octavia's gone, and Dolabella banished.
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Believe me, madam, Antony is yours.
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His heart was never lost, but started off
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To jealousy, love's last retreat and covert;
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Where it lies hid in shades, watchful in silence,
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And listening for the sound that calls it back.
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Some other, any man ('tis so advanced),
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May perfect this unfinished work, which I
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(Unhappy only to myself) have left
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So easy to his hand.
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Cleo. Look well thou do't; else-
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Alex. Else, what your silence threatens.-Antony
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Is mounted up the Pharos; from whose turret,
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He stands surveying our Egyptian galleys,
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Engaged with Cæsar's fleet. Now death or conquest!
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If the first happen, fate acquits my promise;
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If we o'ercome, the conqueror is yours. [A distant shout within.
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Char. Have comfort, madam: Did you mark that shout? [Second shout nearer.
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Iras. Hark! they redouble it.
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Alex. 'Tis from the port.
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The loudness shows it near: Good news, kind heavens!
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Cleo. Osiris make it so!
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Enter SERAPION
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Serap. Where, where's the queen?
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Alex. How frightfully the holy coward stares
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As if not yet recovered of the assault,
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When all his gods, and, what's more dear to him,
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His offerings, were at stake.
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Serap. O horror, horror!
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Egypt has been; our latest hour has come:
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The queen of nations, from her ancient seat,
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Is sunk for ever in the dark abyss:
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Time has unrolled her glories to the last,
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And now closed up the volume.
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Cleo. Be more plain:
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Say, whence thou comest; though fate is in thy face,
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Which from the haggard eyes looks wildly out,
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And threatens ere thou speakest.
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Serap. I came from Pharos;
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From viewing (spare me, and imagine it)
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Our land's last hope, your navy-
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Cleo. Vanquished?
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Serap. No:
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They fought not.
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Cleo. Then they fled.
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Serap. Nor that. I saw,
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With Antony, your well-appointed fleet
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Row out; and thrice he waved his hand on high,
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And thrice with cheerful cries they shouted back:
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'Twas then false Fortune, like a fawning strumpet,
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About to leave the bankrupt prodigal,
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With a dissembled smile would kiss at parting,
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And flatter to the last; the well-timed oars,
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Now dipt from every bank, now smoothly run
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To meet the foe; and soon indeed they met,
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But not as foes. In few, we saw their caps
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On either side thrown up; the Egyptian galleys,
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Received like friends, passed through, and fell behind
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The Roman rear: And now, they all come forward,
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And ride within the port.
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Cleo. Enough, Serapion:
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I've heard my doom.-This needed not, you gods:
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When I lost Antony, your work was done;
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'Tis but superfluous malice.-Where's my lord?
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How bears he this last blow?
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Serap. His fury cannot be expressed by words:
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Thrice he attempted headlong to have fallen
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Full on his foes, and aimed at Cæsar's galley:
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Withheld, he raves on you; cries,-He's betrayed.
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Should he now find you-
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Alex. Shun him; seek your safety,
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Till you can clear your innocence.
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Cleo. I'll stay.
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Alex. You must not; haste you to your monument,
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While I make speed to Cæsar.
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Cleo. Cæsar! No,
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I have no business with him.
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Alex. I can work him
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To spare your life, and let this madman perish.
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Cleo. Base fawning wretch! wouldst thou betray him too?
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Hence from my sight! I will not hear a traitor;
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'Twas thy design brought all this ruin on us.-
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Serapion, thou art honest; counsel me:
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But haste, each moment's precious.
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Serap. Retire; you must not yet see Antony.
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He who began this mischief,
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'Tis just he tempt the danger; let him clear you:
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And, since he offered you his servile tongue,
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To gain a poor precarious life from Cæsar,
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Let him expose that fawning eloquence,
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And speak to Antony.
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Alex. O heavens! I dare not;
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I meet my certain death.
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Cleo. Slave, thou deservest it.-
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Not that I fear my lord, will I avoid him;
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I know him noble: when he banished me,
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And thought me false, he scorned to take my life;
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But I'll be justified, and then die with him.
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Alex. O pity me, and let me follow you.
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Cleo. To death, if thou stir hence. Speak, if thou canst,
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Now for thy life, which basely thou wouldst save;
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While mine I prize at-this! Come, good Serapion. [Exeunt CLEOPATRA, SERAPION, CHARMION, and IRAS.
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Alex. O that I less could fear to lose this being,
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Which, like a snowball in my coward hand,
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The more 'tis grasped, the faster melts away.
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Poor reason! what a wretched aid art thou!
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For still, in spite of thee,
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These two long lovers, soul and body, dread
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Their final separation. Let me think:
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What can I say, to save myself from death?
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No matter what becomes of Cleopatra.
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Ant. Which way? where? [Within.
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Vent. This leads to the monument [Within.
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Alex. Ah me! I hear him; yet I'm unprepared:
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My gift of lying's gone;
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And this court-devil, which I so oft have raised,
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Forsakes me at my need. I dare not stay;
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Yet cannot far go hence. [Exit.
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Enter ANTONY and VENTIDIUS
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Ant. O happy Cæsar! thou hast men to lead:
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Think not 'tis thou hast conquered Antony;
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But Rome has conquered Egypt. I'm betrayed.
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Vent. Curse on this treacherous train!
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Their soil and heaven infect them all with baseness:
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And their young souls come tainted to the world
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With the first breath they draw.
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Ant. The original villain sure no god created;
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He was a bastard of the sun, by Nile,
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Aped into man; with all his mother's mud
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Crusted about his soul.
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Vent. The nation is
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One universal traitor; and their queen
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The very spirit and extract of them all.
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Ant. Is there yet left
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A possibility of aid from valour?
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Is there one god unsworn to my destruction?
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The least unmortgaged hope? for, if there be,
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Methinks I cannot fall beneath the fate
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Of such a boy as Cæsar.
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The world's one half is yet in Antony;
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And from each limb of it, that's hewed away,
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The soul comes back to me.
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Vent. There yet remain
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Three legions in the town. The last assault
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Lopt off the rest; if death be your design,-
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As I must wish it now,-these are sufficient
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To make a heap about us of dead foes,
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An honest pile for burial.
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Ant. They are enough.
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We'll not divide our stars; but, side by side,
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Fight emulous, and with malicious eyes
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Survey each other's acts: So every death
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Thou giv'st, I'll take on me, as a just debt,
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And pay thee back a soul.
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Vent. Now you shall see I love you. Not a word
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Of chiding more. By my few hours of life,
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I am so pleased with this brave Roman fate,
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That I would not be Cæsar, to outlive your.
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When we put off this flesh, and mount together,
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I shall be shown to all the ethereal crowd,-
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Lo, this is he who died with Antony!
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Ant. Who knows, but we may pierce through all their troops,
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And reach my veterans yet? 'tis worth the 'tempting,
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To o'erleap this gulf of fate,
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And leave our wandering destinies behind.
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Enter ALEXAS, trembling
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Vent. See, see, that villain!
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See Cleopatra stamped upon that face,
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With all her cunning, all her arts of falsehood!
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How she looks out through those dissembling eyes!
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How he sets his countenance for deceit,
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And promises a lie, before he speaks!
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Let me despatch him first. [Drawing.
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Alex. O spare me, spare me!
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Ant. Hold; he's not worth your killing.-On thy life,
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Which thou may'st keep, because I scorn to take it,
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No syllable to justify thy queen;
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Save thy base tongue its office.
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Alex. Sir, she is gone.
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Where she shall never be molested more
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By love, or you.
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Ant. Fled to her Dolabella!
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Die, traitor! I revoke my promise die! [Going to kill him.
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Alex. O hold! she is not fled.
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Ant. She is: my eyes
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Are open to her falsehood; my whole life
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Has been a golden dream of love and friendship;
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But, now I wake, I'm like a merchant, roused
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From soft repose, to see his vessel sinking,
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And all his wealth cast over. Ungrateful woman!
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Who followed me, but as the swallow summer,
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Hatching her young ones in my kindly beams,
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Singing her flatteries to my morning wake:
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But, now my winter comes, she spreads her wings,
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And seeks the spring of Cæsar.
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Alex. Think not so;
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Her fortunes have, in all things, mixed with yours.
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Had she betrayed her naval force to Rome,
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How easily might she have gone to Cæsar,
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Secure by such a bribe!
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Vent. She sent it first,
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To be more welcome after.
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Ant. 'Tis too plain;
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Else would she have appeared, to clear herself.
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Alex. Too fatally she has: she could not bear
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To be accused by you; but shut herself
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Within her monument; looked down and sighed;
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While, from her unchanged face, the silent tears
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Dropt, as they had not leave, but stole their parting.
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Some indistinguished words she only murmured;
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At last, she raised her eyes; and, with such looks
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As dying Lucrece cast-
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Ant. My heart forebodes-
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Vent. All for the best:-Go on.
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Alex. She snatched her poniard,
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And, ere we could prevent the fatal blow,
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Plunged it within her breast; then turned to me:
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Go, bear my lord, said she, my last farewell;
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And ask him, if he yet suspect my faith.
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More she was saying, but death rushed betwixt.
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She half pronounced your name with her last breath,
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And buried half within her.
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Vent. Heaven be praised!
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Ant. Then art thou innocent, my poor dear love,
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And art thou dead?
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O those two words! their sound should be divided:
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Hadst thou been false, and died; or hadst thou lived,
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And hadst been true-But innocence and death!
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This shows not well above. Then what am I,
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The murderer of this truth, this innocence!
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Thoughts cannot form themselves in words so horrid
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As can express my guilt!
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Vent. Is't come to this? The gods have been too gracious;
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And thus you thank them for it!
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Ant. [to ALEX]. Why stayest thou here?
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Is it for thee to spy upon my soul,
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And see its inward mourning? Get thee hence;
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Thou art not worthy to behold, what now
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Becomes a Roman emperor to perform.
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Alex. He loves her still:
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His grief betrays it. Good! the joy to find
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She's yet alive, completes the reconcilement.
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I've saved myself, and her. But, oh! the Romans!
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Fate comes too fast upon my wit,
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Hunts me too hard, and meets me at each double. [Aside. Exit.
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Vent. Would she had died a little sooner, though!
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Before Octavia went, you might have treated:
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Now 'twill look tame, and would not be received.
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Come, rouse yourself, and let's die warm together.
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Ant. I will not fight: there's no more work for war.
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The business of my angry hours is done.
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Vent. Cæsar is at your gates.
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Ant. Why, let him enter;
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He's welcome now.
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Vent. What lethargy has crept into your soul?
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Ant. 'Tis but a scorn of life, and just desire
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To free myself from bondage.
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Vent. Do it bravely.
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Ant. I will; but not by fighting. O Ventidius!
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What should I fight for now?-my queen is dead.
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I was but great for her; my power, my empire,
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Were but my merchandise to buy her love;
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And conquered kings, my factors. Now she's dead,
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Let Cæsar take the world,-
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An empty circle, since the jewel's gone
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Which made it worth my strife: my being's nauseous;
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For all the bribes of life are gone away.
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Vent. Would you be taken?
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Ant. Yes, I would be taken;
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But, as a Roman ought,-dead, my Ventidius:
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For I'll convey my soul from Cæsar's reach,
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And lay down life myself. 'Tis time the world
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Should have a lord, and know whom to obey.
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We two have kept its homage in suspense,
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And bent the globe, on whose each side we trod,
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Till it was dented inwards. Let him walk
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Alone upon't: I'm weary of my part.
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My torch is out; and the world stands before me,
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Like a black desert at the approach of night:
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I'll lay me down, and stray no farther on.
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Vent. I could be grieved,
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But that I'll not outlive you: choose your death;
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For, I have seen him in such various shapes,
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I care not which I take: I'm only troubled,
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The life I bear is worn to such a rag,
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'Tis scarce worth giving. I could wish, indeed,
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We threw it from us with a better grace;
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That, like two lions taken in the toils,
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We might at last thrust out our paws, and wound
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The hunters that inclose us.
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Ant. I have thought on it.
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Ventidius, you must live.
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Vent. I must not, sir.
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Ant. Wilt thou not live, to speak some good of me?
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To stand by my fair fame, and guard the approaches
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From the ill tongues of men?
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Vent. Who shall guard mine,
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For living after you?
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Ant. Say, I command it.
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Vent. If we die well, our deaths will speak themselves
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And need no living witness.
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Ant. Thou hast loved me,
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And fain I would reward thee. I must die;
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Kill me, and take the merit of my death,
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To make thee friends with Cæsar.
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Vent. Thank your kindness.
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You said I loved you; and in recompense,
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You bid me turn a traitor: Did I think
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You would have used me thus?-that I should die
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With a hard thought of you?
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Ant. Forgive me, Roman.
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Since I have heard of Cleopatra's death,
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My reason bears no rule upon my tongue,
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But lets my thoughts break all at random out.
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I've thought better; do not deny me twice.
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Vent. By Heaven I will not.
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Let it not be to outlive you.
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Ant. Kill me first,
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And then die thou; for 'tis but just thou serve
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Thy friend, before thyself.
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Vent. Give me your hand.
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We soon shall meet again. Now, farewell, emperor!- [Embrace.
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Methinks that word's too cold to be my last:
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Since death sweeps all distinctions, farewell, friend!
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That's all-
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I will not make a business of a trifle;
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And yet I cannot look on you, and kill you;
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Pray turn your face.
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Ant. I do: strike home, be sure.
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Vent. Home as my sword will reach. [Kills himself.
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Ant. Oh, thou mistak'st;
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That wound was not of thine; give it me back:
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Thou robb'st me of my death.
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Vent. I do indeed;
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But think 'tis the first time I e'er deceived you,
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If that may plead my pardon.-And you, gods,
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Forgive me, if you will; for I die perjured,
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Rather than kill my friend. [Dies.
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Ant. Farewell! Ever my leader, even in death!
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My queen and thou have got the start of me,
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And I'm the lag of honour.-Gone so soon?
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Is Death no more? he used him carelessly,
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With a familiar kindness: ere he knocked,
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Ran to the door, and took him in his arms,
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As who should say-You're welcome at all hours,
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A friend need give no warning. Books had spoiled him;
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For all the learned are cowards by profession.
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'Tis not worth
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My further thought; for death, for aught I know,
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Is but to think no more. Here's to be satisfied. [Falls on his sword.
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I've missed my heart. O unperforming hand!
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Thou never couldst have erred in a worse time.
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My fortune jades me to the last; and death,
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Like a great man, takes state, and makes me wait
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For my admittance. [Trampling within.
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Some, perhaps, from Cæsar:
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If he should find me living, and suspect
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That I played booty with my life! I'll mend
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My work, ere they can reach me. [Rises upon his knees.
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Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMION, and IRAS
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Cleo. Where is my lord? where is he?
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Char. There he lies,
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And dead Ventidius by him.
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Cleo. My tears were prophets; I am come too late.
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O that accursed Alexas! [Runs to him.
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Ant. Art thou living?
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Or am I dead before I knew, and thou
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The first kind ghost that meets me?
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Cleo. Help me seat him.
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Send quickly, send for help! [They place him in a chair.
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