SCENE XIII.
               Alexandria. CLEOPATRA'S palace

        Enter CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUS, CHARMIAN, and IRAS

  CLEOPATRA. What shall we do, Enobarbus?
  ENOBARBUS. Think, and die.
  CLEOPATRA. Is Antony or we in fault for this?
  ENOBARBUS. Antony only, that would make his will
    Lord of his reason. What though you fled
    From that great face of war, whose several ranges
    Frighted each other? Why should he follow?
    The itch of his affection should not then
    Have nick'd his captainship, at such a point,
    When half to half the world oppos'd, he being
    The mered question. 'Twas a shame no less
    Than was his loss, to course your flying flags
    And leave his navy gazing.
  CLEOPATRA. Prithee, peace.

          Enter EUPHRONIUS, the Ambassador; with ANTONY

  ANTONY. Is that his answer?
  EUPHRONIUS. Ay, my lord.
  ANTONY. The Queen shall then have courtesy, so she
    Will yield us up.
  EUPHRONIUS. He says so.
  ANTONY. Let her know't.
    To the boy Caesar send this grizzled head,
    And he will fill thy wishes to the brim
    With principalities.
  CLEOPATRA. That head, my lord?
  ANTONY. To him again. Tell him he wears the rose
    Of youth upon him; from which the world should note
    Something particular. His coin, ships, legions,
    May be a coward's whose ministers would prevail
    Under the service of a child as soon
    As i' th' command of Caesar. I dare him therefore
    To lay his gay comparisons apart,
    And answer me declin'd, sword against sword,
    Ourselves alone. I'll write it. Follow me.
                                    Exeunt ANTONY and EUPHRONIUS

  EUPHRONIUS. [Aside] Yes, like enough high-battled Caesar will
    Unstate his happiness, and be stag'd to th' show
    Against a sworder! I see men's judgments are
    A parcel of their fortunes, and things outward
    Do draw the inward quality after them,
    To suffer all alike. That he should dream,
    Knowing all measures, the full Caesar will
    Answer his emptiness! Caesar, thou hast subdu'd
    His judgment too.

                       Enter a SERVANT

  SERVANT. A messenger from Caesar.
  CLEOPATRA. What, no more ceremony? See, my women!
    Against the blown rose may they stop their nose
    That kneel'd unto the buds. Admit him, sir.     Exit SERVANT
  ENOBARBUS. [Aside] Mine honesty and I begin to square.
    The loyalty well held to fools does make
    Our faith mere folly. Yet he that can endure
    To follow with allegiance a fall'n lord
    Does conquer him that did his master conquer,
    And earns a place i' th' story.

                       Enter THYREUS

  CLEOPATRA. Caesar's will?
  THYREUS. Hear it apart.
  CLEOPATRA. None but friends: say boldly.
  THYREUS. So, haply, are they friends to Antony.
  ENOBARBUS. He needs as many, sir, as Caesar has,
    Or needs not us. If Caesar please, our master
    Will leap to be his friend. For us, you know
    Whose he is we are, and that is Caesar's.
  THYREUS. So.
    Thus then, thou most renown'd: Caesar entreats
    Not to consider in what case thou stand'st
    Further than he is Caesar.
  CLEOPATRA. Go on. Right royal!
  THYREUS. He knows that you embrace not Antony
    As you did love, but as you fear'd him.
  CLEOPATRA. O!
  THYREUS. The scars upon your honour, therefore, he
    Does pity, as constrained blemishes,
    Not as deserv'd.
  CLEOPATRA. He is a god, and knows
    What is most right. Mine honour was not yielded,
    But conquer'd merely.
  ENOBARBUS. [Aside] To be sure of that,
    I will ask Antony. Sir, sir, thou art so leaky
    That we must leave thee to thy sinking, for
    Thy dearest quit thee.                                  Exit
  THYREUS. Shall I say to Caesar
    What you require of him? For he partly begs
    To be desir'd to give. It much would please him
    That of his fortunes you should make a staff
    To lean upon. But it would warm his spirits
    To hear from me you had left Antony,
    And put yourself under his shroud,
    The universal landlord.
  CLEOPATRA. What's your name?
  THYREUS. My name is Thyreus.
  CLEOPATRA. Most kind messenger,
    Say to great Caesar this: in deputation
    I kiss his conquring hand. Tell him I am prompt
    To lay my crown at 's feet, and there to kneel.
    Tell him from his all-obeying breath I hear
    The doom of Egypt.
  THYREUS. 'Tis your noblest course.
    Wisdom and fortune combating together,
    If that the former dare but what it can,
    No chance may shake it. Give me grace to lay
    My duty on your hand.
  CLEOPATRA. Your Caesar's father oft,
    When he hath mus'd of taking kingdoms in,
    Bestow'd his lips on that unworthy place,
    As it rain'd kisses.

                Re-enter ANTONY and ENOBARBUS

  ANTONY. Favours, by Jove that thunders!
    What art thou, fellow?
  THYREUS. One that but performs
    The bidding of the fullest man, and worthiest
    To have command obey'd.
  ENOBARBUS. [Aside] You will be whipt.
  ANTONY. Approach there.- Ah, you kite!- Now, gods and devils!
    Authority melts from me. Of late, when I cried 'Ho!'
    Like boys unto a muss, kings would start forth
    And cry 'Your will?' Have you no ears? I am
    Antony yet.

                       Enter servants

    Take hence this Jack and whip him.
  ENOBARBUS. 'Tis better playing with a lion's whelp
    Than with an old one dying.
  ANTONY. Moon and stars!
    Whip him. Were't twenty of the greatest tributaries
    That do acknowledge Caesar, should I find them
    So saucy with the hand of she here- what's her name
    Since she was Cleopatra? Whip him, fellows,
    Till like a boy you see him cringe his face,
    And whine aloud for mercy. Take him hence.
  THYMUS. Mark Antony-
  ANTONY. Tug him away. Being whipt,
    Bring him again: the Jack of Caesar's shall
    Bear us an errand to him.       Exeunt servants with THYREUS
    You were half blasted ere I knew you. Ha!
    Have I my pillow left unpress'd in Rome,
    Forborne the getting of a lawful race,
    And by a gem of women, to be abus'd
    By one that looks on feeders?
  CLEOPATRA. Good my lord-
  ANTONY. You have been a boggler ever.
    But when we in our viciousness grow hard-
    O misery on't!- the wise gods seel our eyes,
    In our own filth drop our clear judgments, make us
    Adore our errors, laugh at's while we strut
    To our confusion.
  CLEOPATRA. O, is't come to this?
  ANTONY. I found you as a morsel cold upon
    Dead Caesar's trencher. Nay, you were a fragment
    Of Cneius Pompey's, besides what hotter hours,
    Unregist'red in vulgar fame, you have
    Luxuriously pick'd out; for I am sure,
    Though you can guess what temperance should be,
    You know not what it is.
  CLEOPATRA. Wherefore is this?
  ANTONY. To let a fellow that will take rewards,
    And say 'God quit you!' be familiar with
    My playfellow, your hand, this kingly seal
    And plighter of high hearts! O that I were
    Upon the hill of Basan to outroar
    The horned herd! For I have savage cause,
    And to proclaim it civilly were like
    A halter'd neck which does the hangman thank
    For being yare about him.

              Re-enter a SERVANT with THYREUS

    Is he whipt?
  SERVANT. Soundly, my lord.
  ANTONY. Cried he? and begg'd 'a pardon?
  SERVANT. He did ask favour.
  ANTONY. If that thy father live, let him repent
    Thou wast not made his daughter; and be thou sorry
    To follow Caesar in his triumph, since
    Thou hast been whipt for following him. Henceforth
    The white hand of a lady fever thee!
    Shake thou to look on't. Get thee back to Caesar;
    Tell him thy entertainment; look thou say
    He makes me angry with him; for he seems
    Proud and disdainful, harping on what I am,
    Not what he knew I was. He makes me angry;
    And at this time most easy 'tis to do't,
    When my good stars, that were my former guides,
    Have empty left their orbs and shot their fires
    Into th' abysm of hell. If he mislike
    My speech and what is done, tell him he has
    Hipparchus, my enfranched bondman, whom
    He may at pleasure whip or hang or torture,
    As he shall like, to quit me. Urge it thou.
    Hence with thy stripes, be gone.                Exit THYREUS
  CLEOPATRA. Have you done yet?
  ANTONY. Alack, our terrene moon
    Is now eclips'd, and it portends alone
    The fall of Antony.
  CLEOPATRA. I must stay his time.
  ANTONY. To flatter Caesar, would you mingle eyes
    With one that ties his points?
  CLEOPATRA. Not know me yet?
  ANTONY. Cold-hearted toward me?
  CLEOPATRA. Ah, dear, if I be so,
    From my cold heart let heaven engender hail,
    And poison it in the source, and the first stone
    Drop in my neck; as it determines, so
    Dissolve my life! The next Caesarion smite!
    Till by degrees the memory of my womb,
    Together with my brave Egyptians all,
    By the discandying of this pelleted storm,
    Lie graveless, till the flies and gnats of Nile
    Have buried them for prey.
  ANTONY. I am satisfied.
    Caesar sits down in Alexandria, where
    I will oppose his fate. Our force by land
    Hath nobly held; our sever'd navy to
    Have knit again, and fleet, threat'ning most sea-like.
    Where hast thou been, my heart? Dost thou hear, lady?
    If from the field I shall return once more
    To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood.
    I and my sword will earn our chronicle.
    There's hope in't yet.
  CLEOPATRA. That's my brave lord!
  ANTONY. I will be treble-sinew'd, hearted, breath'd,
    And fight maliciously. For when mine hours
    Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives
    Of me for jests; but now I'll set my teeth,
    And send to darkness all that stop me. Come,
    Let's have one other gaudy night. Call to me
    All my sad captains; fill our bowls once more;
    Let's mock the midnight bell.
  CLEOPATRA. It is my birthday.
    I had thought t'have held it poor; but since my lord
    Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra.
  ANTONY. We will yet do well.
  CLEOPATRA. Call all his noble captains to my lord.
  ANTONY. Do so, we'll speak to them; and to-night I'll force
    The wine peep through their scars. Come on, my queen,
    There's sap in't yet. The next time I do fight
    I'll make death love me; for I will contend
    Even with his pestilent scythe.     Exeunt all but ENOBARBUS
  ENOBARBUS. Now he'll outstare the lightning. To be furious
    Is to be frighted out of fear, and in that mood
    The dove will peck the estridge; and I see still
    A diminution in our captain's brain
    Restores his heart. When valour preys on reason,
    It eats the sword it fights with. I will seek
    Some way to leave him.                                  Exit

ACT_4|SC_1

At Cleopatra's palace in Alexandria, Enobarbus half-heartedly consoles Cleopatra. He claims Cleopatra has no fault in the defeat--Antony chose to let his affection for her overpower his reason, so Antony bears both the shame and the loss. This is cold comfort to Cleopatra. Antony enters with Caesar's messenger. Antony discovers from the messenger that if Cleopatra turns him over to Caesar, Caesar will give her all sorts of honors and lands. Antony is, of course, furious, and says Caesar's victories are only the luck of his youth--his armies would do as well if they were led by a child. Antony resolves to challenge Caesar man-to-man, sword-against-sword, and exits to write the letter of challenge. In an aside, Enobarbus lamentsAntony's fall from grace. Thidias, Caesar's other messenger, arrives. He suggests to Cleopatra that she only gave into Antony out of fear, not love, so she doesn't deserve her dishonor, but instead deserves pity. Cleopatra says Caesar is indeed a god, and she agrees that Thidias speaks rightly, as she didn't yield to Antony, but was conquered against her will. Enobarbus hears all of this and exits, remarking that Antony is like a leaky boat that's sinking fast. Even his love has abandoned him! Thidias goes on, promising that Caesar would be glad to warmly offer protection to Cleopatra. Cleopatra then does the despicable, telling the messenger to pass on to Caesar that she would kneel at his feet, give over her crown, and let him pronounce doom upon Egypt . Thidias reaches to kiss her hand, and Cleopatra remembers out loud how this Caesar's father, Julius Caesar, had often rained kisses on that same hand. She's trifling. Just then Antony returns with Enobarbus, and flies into a rage seeing Thidias getting cozy on Caesar's behalf with Cleopatra. Thidias is in for a whooping. Antony has his servants take Thidias away for a sound beating, and instructs them to bring him back when they're done, so the lousy son of a Roman can bring a message to Caesar from Antony. Antony lights into Cleopatra, claiming he sacrificed the "getting of a lawful race" by "a gem of women" , meaning he left behind the good life so he could be here with Cleopatra, only to find her flirting with Caesar's messenger. Thidias returns from his beating. Antony tells him to go back to Caesar and let him know the following: Antony may not have the honor and fortune he once possessed, but he still has his fury. If Caesar dislikes the way Thidias was treated, then he can punish Antony's man Hipparchus, whom Caesar has captured. Turning back to Cleopatra, he asks whether she'd flatter Caesar by flirting with a man that ties his pant laces. She doesn't take to this kindly, but simply insists she'd never betray Antony. He accepts this completely, maybe because he's crazy, but likely because he's whipped. He's gotten his forces back together to fight Caesar on land and sea the next day, and promises he'll fight with malice, regardless of the outcome. He calls for wine and demands one more "gaudy night." It's Cleopatra's birthday, so she's probably up for some gaudiness too. Cleopatra is glad to see Antony is back in his former spirits, even if he's been driven there by utter madness. Alone, Enobarbus notes the insanity of the situation--his master is so furious that he's no longer even afraid. Antony's brain and reason have given up, and his heart has taken over for some last glory in this doomed venture. Enobarbus resolves that he must leave Antony before this sinking ship goes down.


ACT IV. SCENE I.
              CAESAR'S camp before Alexandria

      Enter CAESAR, AGRIPPA, and MAECENAS, with his army;
                 CAESAR reading a letter

  CAESAR. He calls me boy, and chides as he had power
    To beat me out of Egypt. My messenger
    He hath whipt with rods; dares me to personal combat,
    Caesar to Antony. Let the old ruffian know
    I have many other ways to die, meantime
    Laugh at his challenge.
  MAECENAS. Caesar must think
    When one so great begins to rage, he's hunted
    Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now
    Make boot of his distraction. Never anger
    Made good guard for itself.
  CAESAR. Let our best heads
    Know that to-morrow the last of many battles
    We mean to fight. Within our files there are
    Of those that serv'd Mark Antony but late
    Enough to fetch him in. See it done;
    And feast the army; we have store to do't,
    And they have earn'd the waste. Poor Antony!          Exeunt

ACT_4|SC_2

Back at Caesar's camp outside of Alexandria, Thidias has returned to deliver Antony's message. Caesar scoffs at Antony's challenge, but it's clear to Maecenas that Antony is distracted by his own fury. Although he's valiant now, Antony is likely to be defeated. Caesar's plan: the next day, he'll take his army and fight the battle to end this war for good.


SCENE II.
               Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace

      Enter ANTONY, CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUS, CHARMIAN, IRAS,
                     ALEXAS, with others

  ANTONY. He will not fight with me, Domitius?
  ENOBARBUS. No.
  ANTONY. Why should he not?
  ENOBARBUS. He thinks, being twenty times of better fortune,
    He is twenty men to one.
  ANTONY. To-morrow, soldier,
    By sea and land I'll fight. Or I will live,
    Or bathe my dying honour in the blood
    Shall make it live again. Woo't thou fight well?
  ENOBARBUS. I'll strike, and cry 'Take all.'
  ANTONY. Well said; come on.
    Call forth my household servants; let's to-night
    Be bounteous at our meal.

                Enter three or four servitors

    Give me thy hand,
    Thou has been rightly honest. So hast thou;
    Thou, and thou, and thou. You have serv'd me well,
    And kings have been your fellows.
  CLEOPATRA. [Aside to ENOBARBUS] What means this?
  ENOBARBUS. [Aside to CLEOPATRA] 'Tis one of those odd tricks
which
      sorrow shoots
    Out of the mind.
  ANTONY. And thou art honest too.
    I wish I could be made so many men,
    And all of you clapp'd up together in
    An Antony, that I might do you service
    So good as you have done.
  SERVANT. The gods forbid!
  ANTONY. Well, my good fellows, wait on me to-night.
    Scant not my cups, and make as much of me
    As when mine empire was your fellow too,
    And suffer'd my command.
  CLEOPATRA. [Aside to ENOBARBUS] What does he mean?
    ENOBARBUS. [Aside to CLEOPATRA] To make his followers weep.
  ANTONY. Tend me to-night;
    May be it is the period of your duty.
    Haply you shall not see me more; or if,
    A mangled shadow. Perchance to-morrow
    You'll serve another master. I look on you
    As one that takes his leave. Mine honest friends,
    I turn you not away; but, like a master
    Married to your good service, stay till death.
    Tend me to-night two hours, I ask no more,
    And the gods yield you for't!
  ENOBARBUS. What mean you, sir,
    To give them this discomfort? Look, they weep;
    And I, an ass, am onion-ey'd. For shame!
    Transform us not to women.
  ANTONY. Ho, ho, ho!
    Now the witch take me if I meant it thus!
    Grace grow where those drops fall! My hearty friends,
    You take me in too dolorous a sense;
    For I spake to you for your comfort, did desire you
    To burn this night with torches. Know, my hearts,
    I hope well of to-morrow, and will lead you
    Where rather I'll expect victorious life
    Than death and honour. Let's to supper, come,
    And drown consideration.                              Exeunt

ACT_4|SC_3

Antony receives news that Caesar won't fight him man-to-man. Enobarbus proposes it's because Caesar thinks his fortunes are about twenty times better than Antony's, making it an unfair fight. Antony promises to throw himself into the next day's battle whole-heartedly. Antony gathers all of his men and praises them in a way that makes it seem like he's saying goodbye to them once and for all. Enobarbus and Cleopatra speak to each other in whispers, wondering what the dickens Antony is doing. The way Antony thanks his soldiers for their good fight makes it seem like he expects death and defeat in the next day's battle. Not much of a morale booster. Eventually, even Enobarbus is in tears, as are the soldiers. Antony chides them, claiming he didn't mean to be a drama queen. He just wanted to comfort them and convince them they should make this night a great one. Interestingly, he says he expects out of tomorrow "victorious life death and honor." Either way, Antony is in a bad way, and like many men in a bad way, he instructs them all feast so they can drown their dark thoughts with drinking.


SCENE III.
             Alexandria. Before CLEOPATRA's palace

                 Enter a company of soldiers

  FIRST SOLDIER. Brother, good night. To-morrow is the day.
  SECOND SOLDIER. It will determine one way. Fare you well.
    Heard you of nothing strange about the streets?
  FIRST SOLDIER. Nothing. What news?
  SECOND SOLDIER. Belike 'tis but a rumour. Good night to you.
  FIRST SOLDIER. Well, sir, good night.
                                      [They meet other soldiers]
  SECOND SOLDIER. Soldiers, have careful watch.
  FIRST SOLDIER. And you. Good night, good night.
                [The two companies separate and place themselves
                                   in every corner of the stage]
  SECOND SOLDIER. Here we. And if to-morrow
    Our navy thrive, I have an absolute hope
    Our landmen will stand up.
  THIRD SOLDIER. 'Tis a brave army,
    And full of purpose.
                      [Music of the hautboys is under the stage]

  SECOND SOLDIER. Peace, what noise?
  THIRD SOLDIER. List, list!
  SECOND SOLDIER. Hark!
  THIRD SOLDIER. Music i' th' air.
  FOURTH SOLDIER. Under the earth.
  THIRD SOLDIER. It signs well, does it not?
  FOURTH SOLDIER. No.
  THIRD SOLDIER. Peace, I say!
    What should this mean?
  SECOND SOLDIER. 'Tis the god Hercules, whom Antony lov'd,
    Now leaves him.
  THIRD SOLDIER. Walk; let's see if other watchmen
    Do hear what we do.
  SECOND SOLDIER. How now, masters!
  SOLDIERS. [Speaking together] How now!
    How now! Do you hear this?
  FIRST SOLDIER. Ay; is't not strange?
  THIRD SOLDIER. Do you hear, masters? Do you hear?
  FIRST SOLDIER. Follow the noise so far as we have quarter;
    Let's see how it will give off.
  SOLDIERS. Content. 'Tis strange.                        Exeunt

ACT_4|SC_4

That night, as Antony's soldiers stand watch and chat about the coming battle, strange oboe music begins to play. It seems to come from the air and the earth simultaneously. The men guess it is the sound of Hercules leaving Antony, which is not so good of a sign for the upcoming battle.


SCENE IV.
               Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace

         Enter ANTONY and CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS,
                          with others

  ANTONY. Eros! mine armour, Eros!
  CLEOPATRA. Sleep a little.
  ANTONY. No, my chuck. Eros! Come, mine armour, Eros!

                   Enter EROS with armour

    Come, good fellow, put mine iron on.
    If fortune be not ours to-day, it is
    Because we brave her. Come.
  CLEOPATRA. Nay, I'll help too.
    What's this for?
  ANTONY. Ah, let be, let be! Thou art
    The armourer of my heart. False, false; this, this.
  CLEOPATRA. Sooth, la, I'll help. Thus it must be.
  ANTONY. Well, well;
    We shall thrive now. Seest thou, my good fellow?
    Go put on thy defences.
  EROS. Briefly, sir.
  CLEOPATRA. Is not this buckled well?
  ANTONY. Rarely, rarely!
    He that unbuckles this, till we do please
    To daff't for our repose, shall hear a storm.
    Thou fumblest, Eros, and my queen's a squire
    More tight at this than thou. Dispatch. O love,
    That thou couldst see my wars to-day, and knew'st
    The royal occupation! Thou shouldst see
    A workman in't.

                   Enter an armed SOLDIER

    Good-morrow to thee. Welcome.
    Thou look'st like him that knows a warlike charge.
    To business that we love we rise betime,
    And go to't with delight.
  SOLDIER. A thousand, sir,
    Early though't be, have on their riveted trim,
    And at the port expect you.
                            [Shout. Flourish of trumpets within]

                 Enter CAPTAINS and soldiers

  CAPTAIN. The morn is fair. Good morrow, General.
  ALL. Good morrow, General.
  ANTONY. 'Tis well blown, lads.
    This morning, like the spirit of a youth
    That means to be of note, begins betimes.
    So, so. Come, give me that. This way. Well said.
    Fare thee well, dame, whate'er becomes of me.
    This is a soldier's kiss. Rebukeable,
    And worthy shameful check it were, to stand
    On more mechanic compliment; I'll leave thee
    Now like a man of steel. You that will fight,
    Follow me close; I'll bring you to't. Adieu.
                      Exeunt ANTONY, EROS, CAPTAINS and soldiers
  CHARMIAN. Please you retire to your chamber?
  CLEOPATRA. Lead me.
    He goes forth gallantly. That he and Caesar might
    Determine this great war in single fight!
    Then, Antony- but now. Well, on.                      Exeunt

ACT_4|SC_5

It's early morning, and Antony calls to his man Eros to help him put on his armor, while Cleopatra calls him back to bed. As Eros dresses him in armor, Cleopatra tries to help, but Antony says she is the armor around his heart. She helps anyway, and he says the man that undoes his armor that day will feel his rage-- Antony is confident about his manliness. Antony wishes Cleopatra could see him at war today, as she would see him in his truest form, as a workman at his trade. An armed soldier enters, and Antony compliments him for looking ready for war. The soldier announces that a thousand men wait on Antony at the port, with more on the way. Things are generally looking up. Antony is in high spirits--this is his home turf, being soldierly and warish and such. He kisses Cleopatra's hand like a gallant fellow, saying, "Fare thee well, dame," which is a far cry from his usual fawning. He tells her he leaves her as a man of steel , and we get a glimpse of what Antony the soldier was like before he became Cleopatra's Antony in Egypt. He leads his men to war, as Cleopatra is led back to her bed.


SCENE V.
                  Alexandria. ANTONY'S camp

        Trumpets sound. Enter ANTONY and EROS, a SOLDIER
                       meeting them

  SOLDIER. The gods make this a happy day to Antony!
  ANTONY. Would thou and those thy scars had once prevail'd
    To make me fight at land!
  SOLDIER. Hadst thou done so,
    The kings that have revolted, and the soldier
    That has this morning left thee, would have still
    Followed thy heels.
  ANTONY. Who's gone this morning?
  SOLDIER. Who?
    One ever near thee. Call for Enobarbus,
    He shall not hear thee; or from Caesar's camp
    Say 'I am none of thine.'
  ANTONY. What say'st thou?
  SOLDIER. Sir,
    He is with Caesar.
  EROS. Sir, his chests and treasure
    He has not with him.
  ANTONY. Is he gone?
  SOLDIER. Most certain.
  ANTONY. Go, Eros, send his treasure after; do it;
    Detain no jot, I charge thee. Write to him-
    I will subscribe- gentle adieus and greetings;
    Say that I wish he never find more cause
    To change a master. O, my fortunes have
    Corrupted honest men! Dispatch. Enobarbus!            Exeunt

ACT_4|SC_6

At Antony's camp, a wounded soldier conferences with Antony and Eros. Antony admits he wishes he had followed the advice to fight first on land, and not at sea. The soldier, saucy, suggests that maybe if they'd fought on land in the first place, the kings and the man that left this morning might still be on their side. Antony asks who it was that left, only to hear the sad news that his dear friend Enobarbus has joined Caesar's camp. Ouch. Eros points out Enobarbus left his treasure behind. Antony, a bit shocked, orders that Enobarbus's clothes and treasure be sent after him, with a kind note from Antony, wishing that Enobarbus should never again feel forced to change masters. Antony is disappointed in himself, saying his bad fortune has led honest men to become traitors.


SCENE VI.
                 Alexandria. CAESAR'S camp

       Flourish. Enter AGRIPPA, CAESAR, With DOLABELLA
                       and ENOBARBUS

  CAESAR. Go forth, Agrippa, and begin the fight.
    Our will is Antony be took alive;
    Make it so known.
  AGRIPPA. Caesar, I shall.                                 Exit
  CAESAR. The time of universal peace is near.
    Prove this a prosp'rous day, the three-nook'd world
    Shall bear the olive freely.

                     Enter A MESSENGER

  MESSENGER. Antony
    Is come into the field.
  CAESAR. Go charge Agrippa
    Plant those that have revolted in the vant,
    That Antony may seem to spend his fury
    Upon himself.                       Exeunt all but ENOBARBUS

  ENOBARBUS. Alexas did revolt and went to Jewry on
    Affairs of Antony; there did dissuade
    Great Herod to incline himself to Caesar
    And leave his master Antony. For this pains
    Casaer hath hang'd him. Canidius and the rest
    That fell away have entertainment, but
    No honourable trust. I have done ill,
    Of which I do accuse myself so sorely
    That I will joy no more.

                  Enter a SOLDIER of CAESAR'S

  SOLDIER. Enobarbus, Antony
    Hath after thee sent all thy treasure, with
    His bounty overplus. The messenger
    Came on my guard, and at thy tent is now
    Unloading of his mules.
  ENOBARBUS. I give it you.
  SOLDIER. Mock not, Enobarbus.
    I tell you true. Best you saf'd the bringer
    Out of the host. I must attend mine office,
    Or would have done't myself. Your emperor
    Continues still a Jove.                                 Exit
  ENOBARBUS. I am alone the villain of the earth,
    And feel I am so most. O Antony,
    Thou mine of bounty, how wouldst thou have paid
    My better service, when my turpitude
    Thou dost so crown with gold! This blows my heart.
    If swift thought break it not, a swifter mean
    Shall outstrike thought; but thought will do't, I feel.
    I fight against thee? No! I will go seek
    Some ditch wherein to die; the foul'st best fits
    My latter part of life.                                 Exit

ACT_4|SC_7

On Caesar's side of the battle, we find Caesar confident that he will be victorious. He instructs his men of the following: he wants Antony taken alive, and he announces that the end of this battle will bring a time of universal peace. Caesar instructs Agrippa to put the defectors from Antony's army on the front line--he hopes Antony's morale will be hurt by having to face his own deserting men. All head out for some more planning, leaving Enobarbus by himself. He notes privately that Caesar has a strange sense of justice; Alexas, on an errand for Antony, ended up persuading King Herod to join Caesar's side , but regardless, Caesar had Alexas killed for it. Other cases are clearer: all the others who have deserted Antony have gained employment with Caesar, but lost their honor in doing so. Just as Enobarbus is deciding to be really ashamed of himself for his desertion, one of Caesar's soldier's announces the arrival of a messenger from Antony. The man bears Antony's good tidings to Enobarbus and the treasure Enobarbus left behind, plus a little more that Antony added on. Enobarbus is shocked and now even more ashamed of his desertion. He's sure his thoughts will kill him, as he certainly can't bear to fight against Antony. He hopes to die in a ditch, which he imagines is the only end fitting the miserable lowness of his recent actions.


SCENE VII.
             Field of battle between the camps

         Alarum. Drums and trumpets. Enter AGRIPPA
                        and others

  AGRIPPA. Retire. We have engag'd ourselves too far.
    Caesar himself has work, and our oppression
    Exceeds what we expected.                             Exeunt

          Alarums. Enter ANTONY, and SCARUS wounded

  SCARUS. O my brave Emperor, this is fought indeed!
    Had we done so at first, we had droven them home
    With clouts about their heads.
  ANTONY. Thou bleed'st apace.
  SCARUS. I had a wound here that was like a T,
    But now 'tis made an H.
  ANTONY. They do retire.
  SCARUS. We'll beat'em into bench-holes. I have yet
    Room for six scotches more.

                        Enter EROS

  EROS. They are beaten, sir, and our advantage serves
    For a fair victory.
  SCARUS. Let us score their backs
    And snatch 'em up, as we take hares, behind.
    'Tis sport to maul a runner.
  ANTONY. I will reward thee
    Once for thy sprightly comfort, and tenfold
    For thy good valour. Come thee on.
    SCARUS. I'll halt after.                              Exeunt

ACT_4|SC_8

On the battlefield between the camps, Agrippa calls his men to retreat, as they've overestimated their strength. Antony confers with a wounded soldier, Scarus. Caesar's side is clearly beat, and Antony, calm, promises to reward his men for their high spirits, even more for their valor, and even more for being the only people to not ditch him for Caesar.


SCENE VIII.
               Under the walls of Alexandria

        Alarum. Enter ANTONY, again in a march; SCARUS
                        with others

  ANTONY. We have beat him to his camp. Run one before
    And let the Queen know of our gests. To-morrow,
    Before the sun shall see's, we'll spill the blood
    That has to-day escap'd. I thank you all;
    For doughty-handed are you, and have fought
    Not as you serv'd the cause, but as't had been
    Each man's like mine; you have shown all Hectors.
    Enter the city, clip your wives, your friends,
    Tell them your feats; whilst they with joyful tears
    Wash the congealment from your wounds and kiss
    The honour'd gashes whole.

                 Enter CLEOPATRA, attended

    [To SCARUS] Give me thy hand-
    To this great fairy I'll commend thy acts,
    Make her thanks bless thee. O thou day o' th' world,
    Chain mine arm'd neck. Leap thou, attire and all,
    Through proof of harness to my heart, and there
    Ride on the pants triumphing.
  CLEOPATRA. Lord of lords!
    O infinite virtue, com'st thou smiling from
    The world's great snare uncaught?
  ANTONY. Mine nightingale,
    We have beat them to their beds. What, girl! though grey
    Do something mingle with our younger brown, yet ha' we
    A brain that nourishes our nerves, and can
    Get goal for goal of youth. Behold this man;
    Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand-
    Kiss it, my warrior- he hath fought to-day
    As if a god in hate of mankind had
    Destroyed in such a shape.
  CLEOPATRA. I'll give thee, friend,
    An armour all of gold; it was a king's.
  ANTONY. He has deserv'd it, were it carbuncled
    Like holy Phoebus' car. Give me thy hand.
    Through Alexandria make a jolly march;
    Bear our hack'd targets like the men that owe them.
    Had our great palace the capacity
    To camp this host, we all would sup together,
    And drink carouses to the next day's fate,
    Which promises royal peril. Trumpeters,
    With brazen din blast you the city's ear;
    Make mingle with our rattling tabourines,
    That heaven and earth may strike their sounds together
    Applauding our approach.                              Exeunt

ACT_4|SC_9

Antony returns in full force to Alexandria. He praises everyone, and they plan to battle again tomorrow. Cleopatra then enters, and he greets her gaily. He happily presents Scarus and all his wounds to Cleopatra, who praises them all and promises him a suit of golden armor that once belonged to a king. Antony again proclaims his love for "this fairy," claiming she is the only thing that can pierce the armor over his heart. They dedicate the night to celebrating their victory in decadent Egyptian fashion.


SCENE IX.
                      CAESAR'S camp

      Enter a CENTURION and his company; ENOBARBUS follows

  CENTURION. If we be not reliev'd within this hour,
    We must return to th' court of guard. The night
    Is shiny, and they say we shall embattle
    By th' second hour i' th' morn.
  FIRST WATCH. This last day was
    A shrewd one to's.
  ENOBARBUS. O, bear me witness, night-
  SECOND WATCH. What man is this?
  FIRST WATCH. Stand close and list him.
  ENOBARBUS. Be witness to me, O thou blessed moon,
    When men revolted shall upon record
    Bear hateful memory, poor Enobarbus did
    Before thy face repent!
  CENTURION. Enobarbus?
  SECOND WATCH. Peace!
    Hark further.
  ENOBARBUS. O sovereign mistress of true melancholy,
    The poisonous damp of night disponge upon me,
    That life, a very rebel to my will,
    May hang no longer on me. Throw my heart
    Against the flint and hardness of my fault,
    Which, being dried with grief, will break to powder,
    And finish all foul thoughts. O Antony,
    Nobler than my revolt is infamous,
    Forgive me in thine own particular,
    But let the world rank me in register
    A master-leaver and a fugitive!
    O Antony! O Antony!                                   [Dies]
  FIRST WATCH. Let's speak to him.
  CENTURION. Let's hear him, for the things he speaks
    May concern Caesar.
  SECOND WATCH. Let's do so. But he sleeps.
  CENTURION. Swoons rather; for so bad a prayer as his
    Was never yet for sleep.
  FIRST WATCH. Go we to him.
  SECOND WATCH. Awake, sir, awake; speak to us.
  FIRST WATCH. Hear you, sir?
  CENTURION. The hand of death hath raught him.
    [Drums afar off ] Hark! the drums
    Demurely wake the sleepers. Let us bear him
    To th' court of guard; he is of note. Our hour
    Is fully out.
  SECOND WATCH. Come on, then;
    He may recover yet.                     Exeunt with the body

ACT_4|SC_10

Back at Caesar's camp, a sentry and his company are on watch when they overhear Enobarbus railing privately against himself. He hopes to die because he's deserted Antony. Enobarbus begs Antony to forgive him, though he wants the world to remember him as a traitor and a fugitive. Then Enobarbus cries out and is silent, prompting the sentries to go look at him. They find he has fainted. No, wait, he's dead. They decide to bear his body to the court of guard, as he's an important man, and they hope he might arise still, though it's clear to the audience that he's died of his own grief.


SCENE X.
                    Between the two camps

            Enter ANTONY and SCARUS, with their army

  ANTONY. Their preparation is to-day by sea;
    We please them not by land.
  SCARUS. For both, my lord.
  ANTONY. I would they'd fight i' th' fire or i' th' air;
    We'd fight there too. But this it is, our foot
    Upon the hills adjoining to the city
    Shall stay with us- Order for sea is given;
    They have put forth the haven-
    Where their appointment we may best discover
    And look on their endeavour.                          Exeunt

ACT_4|SC_11

Antony discusses with Scarus that Caesar has prepared to meet them at sea. He would be willing to fight them in fire or the air, if they wanted, because he's so confident. They'll go to the hills to survey the fleet at water and be ready for them.


SCENE XI.
                    Between the camps

                Enter CAESAR and his army

  CAESAR. But being charg'd, we will be still by land,
    Which, as I take't, we shall; for his best force
    Is forth to man his galleys. To the vales,
    And hold our best advantage.                          Exeunt

ACT_4|SC_12

Caesar prepares his army to be inactive by land. He'll meet Antony at sea, where he hopes they can hold some advantageous position.


SCENE XII.
                  A hill near Alexandria

                  Enter ANTONY and SCARUS

  ANTONY. Yet they are not join'd. Where yond pine does stand
    I shall discover all. I'll bring thee word
    Straight how 'tis like to go.                           Exit
  SCARUS. Swallows have built
    In Cleopatra's sails their nests. The augurers
    Say they know not, they cannot tell; look grimly,
    And dare not speak their knowledge. Antony
    Is valiant and dejected; and by starts
    His fretted fortunes give him hope and fear
    Of what he has and has not.
                            [Alarum afar off, as at a sea-fight]

                      Re-enter ANTONY

  ANTONY. All is lost!
    This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me.
    My fleet hath yielded to the foe, and yonder
    They cast their caps up and carouse together
    Like friends long lost. Triple-turn'd whore! 'tis thou
    Hast sold me to this novice; and my heart
    Makes only wars on thee. Bid them all fly;
    For when I am reveng'd upon my charm,
    I have done all. Bid them all fly; begone.       Exit SCARUS
    O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more!
    Fortune and Antony part here; even here
    Do we shake hands. All come to this? The hearts
    That spaniel'd me at heels, to whom I gave
    Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets
    On blossoming Caesar; and this pine is bark'd
    That overtopp'd them all. Betray'd I am.
    O this false soul of Egypt! this grave charm-
    Whose eye beck'd forth my wars and call'd them home,
    Whose bosom was my crownet, my chief end-
    Like a right gypsy hath at fast and loose
    Beguil'd me to the very heart of loss.
    What, Eros, Eros!

                      Enter CLEOPATRA

    Ah, thou spell! Avaunt!
  CLEOPATRA. Why is my lord enrag'd against his love?
  ANTONY. Vanish, or I shall give thee thy deserving
    And blemish Caesar's triumph. Let him take thee
    And hoist thee up to the shouting plebeians;
    Follow his chariot, like the greatest spot
    Of all thy sex; most monster-like, be shown
    For poor'st diminutives, for doits, and let
    Patient Octavia plough thy visage up
    With her prepared nails.                      Exit CLEOPATRA
    'Tis well th'art gone,
    If it be well to live; but better 'twere
    Thou fell'st into my fury, for one death
    Might have prevented many. Eros, ho!
    The shirt of Nessus is upon me; teach me,
    Alcides, thou mine ancestor, thy rage;
    Let me lodge Lichas on the horns o' th' moon,
    And with those hands that grasp'd the heaviest club
    Subdue my worthiest self. The witch shall die.
    To the young Roman boy she hath sold me, and I fall
    Under this plot. She dies for't. Eros, ho!              Exit

ACT_4|SC_13

Antony watches the battle at sea with Scarus and frets that he can't see Caesar's troops yet. He leaves Scarus to go look from a different vantage point. Scarus notes in an aside that the augurs were hesitant to state their predictions about this sea battle, which can't be good. Antony returns to Scarus in a fury--Cleopatra's fleet has deserted them again and Antony's fleet has yielded to Caesar's, greeting them like friends. He doesn't care to take revenge on his troops, only on Cleopatra. Antony is sure she's the one that led him to this course. Antony demands that all the remaining soldiers leave, as he doesn't care about them anymore. He privately laments that Fortune has deserted him and now favors Caesar instead. He damns Cleopatra for luring him to Egypt and identifies her as the cause of his loss. Cleopatra enters and Antony rages at her, saying she should go be part of Caesar's victory march for all the masses to see her. He even hopes Octavia might scratch up her face with her fingernails. Cleopatra flees Antony's fury. He's glad that woman's gone. He wishes he had killed her earlier, which would have saved many lives. He resolves that she'll die for selling him out to Caesar, whom he calls "the young Roman boy."


SCENE XIII.
               Alexandria. CLEOPATRA's palace

      Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN

  CLEOPATRA. Help me, my women. O, he is more mad
    Than Telamon for his shield; the boar of Thessaly
    Was never so emboss'd.
  CHARMIAN. To th'monument!
    There lock yourself, and send him word you are dead.
    The soul and body rive not more in parting
    Than greatness going off.
  CLEOPATRA. To th' monument!
    Mardian, go tell him I have slain myself;
    Say that the last I spoke was 'Antony'
    And word it, prithee, piteously. Hence, Mardian,
    And bring me how he takes my death. To th' monument!
                                                          Exeunt

ACT_4|SC_14

Cleopatra flees to her women, afraid of Antony's rage. Charmian suggests she lock herself up in her monument and send word to Antony that she's dead. Cleopatra thinks this is a good idea, and sends Mardian to tell Antony she's killed herself, and that her last word was "Antony." She instructs Mardian to return to her and tell her how Antony takes the false news.


SCENE XIV.
                     CLEOPATRA'S palace

                   Enter ANTONY and EROS

  ANTONY. Eros, thou yet behold'st me?
  EROS. Ay, noble lord.
  ANTONY. Sometime we see a cloud that's dragonish;
    A vapour sometime like a bear or lion,
    A tower'd citadel, a pendent rock,
    A forked mountain, or blue promontory
    With trees upon't that nod unto the world
    And mock our eyes with air. Thou hast seen these signs;
    They are black vesper's pageants.
  EROS. Ay, my lord.
  ANTONY. That which is now a horse, even with a thought
    The rack dislimns, and makes it indistinct,
    As water is in water.
  EROS. It does, my lord.
  ANTONY. My good knave Eros, now thy captain is
    Even such a body. Here I am Antony;
    Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave.
    I made these wars for Egypt; and the Queen-
    Whose heart I thought I had, for she had mine,
    Which, whilst it was mine, had annex'd unto't
    A million moe, now lost- she, Eros, has
    Pack'd cards with Caesar, and false-play'd my glory
    Unto an enemy's triumph.
    Nay, weep not, gentle Eros; there is left us
    Ourselves to end ourselves.

                         Enter MARDIAN

    O, thy vile lady!
    She has robb'd me of my sword.
  MARDIAN. No, Antony;
    My mistress lov'd thee, and her fortunes mingled
    With thine entirely.
  ANTONY. Hence, saucy eunuch; peace!
    She hath betray'd me, and shall die the death.
  MARDIAN. Death of one person can be paid but once,
    And that she has discharg'd. What thou wouldst do
    Is done unto thy hand. The last she spake
    Was 'Antony! most noble Antony!'
    Then in the midst a tearing groan did break
    The name of Antony; it was divided
    Between her heart and lips. She rend'red life,
    Thy name so buried in her.
  ANTONY. Dead then?
  MARDIAN. Dead.
  ANTONY. Unarm, Eros; the long day's task is done,
    And we must sleep. That thou depart'st hence safe
    Does pay thy labour richly. Go.                 Exit MARDIAN
    Off, pluck off!
    The sevenfold shield of Ajax cannot keep
    The battery from my heart. O, cleave, my sides!
    Heart, once be stronger than thy continent,
    Crack thy frail case. Apace, Eros, apace.-
    No more a soldier. Bruised pieces, go;
    You have been nobly borne.- From me awhile.        Exit EROS
    I will o'ertake thee, Cleopatra, and
    Weep for my pardon. So it must be, for now
    All length is torture. Since the torch is out,
    Lie down, and stray no farther. Now all labour
    Mars what it does; yea, very force entangles
    Itself with strength. Seal then, and all is done.
    Eros!- I come, my queen.- Eros!- Stay for me;
    Where souls do couch on flowers, we'll hand in hand,
    And with our sprightly port make the ghosts gaze.
    Dido and her Aeneas shall want troops,
    And all the haunt be ours.- Come, Eros, Eros!

                       Re-enter EROS

  EROS. What would my lord?
  ANTONY. Since Cleopatra died,
    I have liv'd in such dishonour that the gods
    Detest my baseness. I, that with my sword
    Quarter'd the world, and o'er green Neptune's back
    With ships made cities, condemn myself to lack
    The courage of a woman; less noble mind
    Than she which by her death our Caesar tells
    'I am conqueror of myself.' Thou art sworn, Eros,
    That, when the exigent should come- which now
    Is come indeed- when I should see behind me
    Th' inevitable prosecution of
    Disgrace and horror, that, on my command,
    Thou then wouldst kill me. Do't; the time is come.
    Thou strik'st not me; 'tis Caesar thou defeat'st.
    Put colour in thy cheek.
  EROS. The gods withhold me!
    Shall I do that which all the Parthian darts,
    Though enemy, lost aim and could not?
  ANTONY. Eros,
    Wouldst thou be window'd in great Rome and see
    Thy master thus with pleach'd arms, bending down
    His corrigible neck, his face subdu'd
    To penetrative shame, whilst the wheel'd seat
    Of fortunate Caesar, drawn before him, branded
    His baseness that ensued?
  EROS. I would not see't.
  ANTONY. Come, then; for with a wound I must be cur'd.
    Draw that thy honest sword, which thou hast worn
    Most useful for thy country.
  EROS. O, sir, pardon me!
  ANTONY. When I did make thee free, swor'st thou not then
    To do this when I bade thee? Do it at once,
    Or thy precedent services are all
    But accidents unpurpos'd. Draw, and come.
  EROS. Turn from me then that noble countenance,
    Wherein the worship of the whole world lies.
  ANTONY. Lo thee!                            [Turning from him]
  EROS. My sword is drawn.
  ANTONY. Then let it do at once
    The thing why thou hast drawn it.
  EROS. My dear master,
    My captain and my emperor, let me say,
    Before I strike this bloody stroke, farewell.
  ANTONY. 'Tis said, man; and farewell.
  EROS. Farewell, great chief. Shall I strike now?
  ANTONY. Now, Eros.
  EROS. Why, there then! Thus do I escape the sorrow
    Of Antony's death.                            [Kills himself
  ANTONY. Thrice nobler than myself!
    Thou teachest me, O valiant Eros, what
    I should, and thou couldst not. My queen and Eros
    Have, by their brave instruction, got upon me
    A nobleness in record. But I will be
    A bridegroom in my death, and run into't
    As to a lover's bed. Come, then; and, Eros,
    Thy master dies thy scholar. To do thus
                                          [Falling on his sword]
    I learn'd of thee. How? not dead? not dead?-
    The guard, ho! O, dispatch me!

                  Enter DERCETAS and a guard

  FIRST GUARD. What's the noise?
  ANTONY. I have done my work ill, friends. O, make an end
    Of what I have begun.
  SECOND GUARD. The star is fall'n.
  FIRST GUARD. And time is at his period.
  ALL. Alas, and woe!
  ANTONY. Let him that loves me, strike me dead.
  FIRST GUARD. Not I.
  SECOND GUARD. Nor I.
  THIRD GUARD. Nor any one.                         Exeunt guard
  DERCETAS. Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers fly.
    This sword but shown to Caesar, with this tidings,
    Shall enter me with him.

                       Enter DIOMEDES

  DIOMEDES. Where's Antony?
  DERCETAS. There, Diomed, there.
  DIOMEDES. Lives he?
    Wilt thou not answer, man?                     Exit DERCETAS
  ANTONY. Art thou there, Diomed? Draw thy sword and give me
    Sufficing strokes for death.
  DIOMEDES. Most absolute lord,
    My mistress Cleopatra sent me to thee.
  ANTONY. When did she send thee?
  DIOMEDES. Now, my lord.
  ANTONY. Where is she?
  DIOMEDES. Lock'd in her monument. She had a prophesying fear
    Of what hath come to pass; for when she saw-
    Which never shall be found- you did suspect
    She had dispos'd with Caesar, and that your rage
    Would not be purg'd, she sent you word she was dead;
    But fearing since how it might work, hath sent
    Me to proclaim the truth; and I am come,
    I dread, too late.
  ANTONY. Too late, good Diomed. Call my guard, I prithee.
  DIOMEDES. What, ho! the Emperor's guard! The guard, what ho!
    Come, your lord calls!

             Enter four or five of the guard of ANTONY

  ANTONY. Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra bides;
    'Tis the last service that I shall command you.
  FIRST GUARD. Woe, woe are we, sir, you may not live to wear
    All your true followers out.
  ALL. Most heavy day!
  ANTONY. Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp fate
    To grace it with your sorrows. Bid that welcome
    Which comes to punish us, and we punish it,
    Seeming to bear it lightly. Take me up.
    I have led you oft; carry me now, good friends,
    And have my thanks for all.           Exeunt, hearing ANTONY
ACT_4|SC_15

Eros comes upon Antony, who's philosophizing on nature--exactly what you might expect from a suicidal guy who's just lost a great battle and is convinced that the woman he sacrificed everything for has betrayed him to his enemy. Eros weeps, and Antony comforts him with the thought that at least his master can kill himself. This is maybe not so comforting. Mardian then enters. Antony rages at him, too, telling him he'll kill Cleopatra for her betrayal. Mardian announces Cleopatra has already taken care of it, that she died with his name on her lips. Antony doesn't exactly fall on the ground, but announces that Eros should go to bed, as all their work for the day is now done. He tells Mardian to be grateful that he's allowed to go safely, as in: "I could have you killed, but I'm not going to." Even though Antony was just raging against her, we see that the news of Cleopatra's death is tearing him apart on the inside. He begs his heart to be stronger than his body, or, if not, at least burst open his body as it fills with grief. Antony says he will catch up with Cleopatra and weep for her forgiveness. Then calls for Eros to return. Antony tells Eros that Cleopatra has made herself noble by taking her own life. She is, at the end, the sole conqueror of herself. Thus he tells Eros to kill him. Eros refuses, but Antony reminds him that when he freed Eros , Eros promised to do anything Antony wished. Eros readies to kill Antony, but demands that Antony turn away his face before Eros strikes the blow. Antony agrees, and tells Eros to do it now. With his face turned away, Antony misses that Eros has actually plunged his sword into himself, choosing to take his own life rather than his friend's. Antony is so moved by the nobility of suicide that Eros and Cleopatra showed that he resolves to kill himself. Antony stabs himself, but finding he has not died immediately, he calls on the guards to finish him off. The guards refuse which means Antony's going to die slowly and painfully. Then...Diomedes enters with the news that Cleopatra's actually not dead. Cleopatra was just playing a little trick because she was hurt that Antony believed she betrayed him to Caesar, which she definitely didn't do. Antony doesn't flip out, but instead asks that his guards lead him to Cleopatra's side.


SCENE XV.
                   Alexandria. A monument

      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 DIOMEDES, below

    How now! Is he dead?
  DIOMEDES. His death's upon him, but not dead.
    Look out o' th' other side your monument;
    His guard have brought him thither.

            Enter, below, ANTONY, borne by the guard

  CLEOPATRA. O sun,
    Burn the great sphere thou mov'st in! Darkling stand
    The varying shore o' th' world. O Antony,
    Antony, Antony! Help, Charmian; help, Iras, help;
    Help, friends below! Let's draw him hither.
  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!
  ANTONY. I am dying, Egypt, dying; only
    I here importune death awhile, until
    Of many thousand kisses the poor last
    I lay upon thy lips.
  CLEOPATRA. I dare not, dear.
    Dear my lord, pardon! I dare not,
    Lest I be taken. Not th' imperious show
    Of the full-fortun'd 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.
  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.
    Wishers were ever fools. O come, come,
                          [They heave ANTONY aloft to CLEOPATRA]
    And welcome, welcome! Die where thou hast liv'd.
    Quicken with kissing. Had my lips that power,
    Thus would I wear them out.
  ALL. A heavy sight!
  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 huswife Fortune break her wheel,
    Provok'd by my offence.
  ANTONY. One word, sweet queen:
    Of Caesar seek your honour, with your safety. O!
  CLEOPATRA. They do not go together.
  ANTONY. Gentle, hear me:
    None about Caesar trust but Proculeius.
  CLEOPATRA. My resolution and my hands I'll trust;
    None about Caesar
  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 liv'd the greatest prince o' th' 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,        [Antony dies]
    The crown o' th' 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.                          [Swoons]
  CHARMIAN. O, quietness, lady!
  IRAS. She's 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 nought;
    Patience is sottish, 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 hearing off ANTONY'S body

ACT_5|SC_1

Cleopatra waits at the monument and declares she'll never leave, although she's super anxious about Antony. Right about then Diomedes declares that Antony is not quite dead, but mostly dying. The lovers call to each other. Antony announces that it can never be said that Caesar's valor overthrew Antony; rather, Antony's valor made him overthrow himself. Cleopatra agrees that there's nobility in the fact that no man conquered Antony except Antony himself. Antony calls out to her to come down and give him a final kiss, but she dares not leave the monument for fear that Caesar will catch her and place her in his victory parade. Instead, she begs those around her to help pull her lover's dying body to her. She notes he's heavy, his strength having turned into dull weight, and she wishes her kisses might bring him back to life. Everyone watching is rather moved. Antony begs Cleopatra, with his dying breaths, to seek her honor and safety with Caesar and the one trustworthy man around Caesar--Proculeius. She replies she can't have both her honor and her safety, and that she will resolve this matter with her own hands, rather than seeking pardon from Caesar. As he's dying, Antony bids Cleopatra to remember him when he was the prince of the world. Antony says he dies a noble death, at the hand of no other man, but dies "a Roman by a Roman, valiantly vanquished." In the moment of his death, Cleopatra wails, and asks if he does not care for her. By dying and leaving her alone, she's left in a world worthless without him. She faints, and the maids worry she's died, too, since they know that lots of times in Shakespeare fainting is just a facade for dying. When Cleopatra comes to, she declares that it is no sin to rush to death before death rushes to her. Thus she's resolved to kill herself. She declares they'll bury Antony in the noble Roman fashion, giving him a funeral he deserves. She is now all business, as her course is laid out clearly before her.


ACT V. SCENE I.
                  Alexandria. CAESAR'S camp

      Enter CAESAR, AGRIPPA, DOLABELLA, MAECENAS, GALLUS,
          PROCULEIUS, and others, his Council of War

  CAESAR. Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield;
    Being so frustrate, tell him he mocks
    The pauses that he makes.
  DOLABELLA. Caesar, I shall.                               Exit

             Enter DERCETAS With the sword of ANTONY

  CAESAR. Wherefore is that? And what art thou that dar'st
    Appear thus to us?
  DERCETAS. I am call'd Dercetas;
    Mark Antony I serv'd, who best was worthy
    Best to be serv'd. Whilst he stood up and spoke,
    He was my master, and I wore my life
    To spend upon his haters. If thou please
    To take me to thee, as I was to him
    I'll be to Caesar; if thou pleasest not,
    I yield thee up my life.
  CAESAR. What is't thou say'st?
  DERCETAS. I say, O Caesar, Antony is dead.
  CAESAR. The breaking of so great a thing should make
    A greater crack. The round world
    Should have shook lions into civil streets,
    And citizens to their dens. The death of Antony
    Is not a single doom; in the name lay
    A moiety of the world.
  DERCETAS. He is dead, Caesar,
    Not by a public minister of justice,
    Nor by a hired knife; but that self hand
    Which writ his honour in the acts it did
    Hath, with the courage which the heart did lend it,
    Splitted the heart. This is his sword;
    I robb'd his wound of it; behold it stain'd
    With his most noble blood.
  CAESAR. Look you sad, friends?
    The gods rebuke me, but it is tidings
    To wash the eyes of kings.
  AGRIPPA. And strange it is
    That nature must compel us to lament
    Our most persisted deeds.
  MAECENAS. His taints and honours
    Wag'd equal with him.
  AGRIPPA. A rarer spirit never
    Did steer humanity. But you gods will give us
    Some faults to make us men. Caesar is touch'd.
  MAECENAS. When such a spacious mirror's set before him,
    He needs must see himself.
  CAESAR. O Antony,
    I have follow'd thee to this! But we do lance
    Diseases in our bodies. I must perforce
    Have shown to thee such a declining day
    Or look on thine; we could not stall together
    In the whole world. But yet let me lament,
    With tears as sovereign as the blood of hearts,
    That thou, my brother, my competitor
    In top of all design, my mate in empire,
    Friend and companion in the front of war,
    The arm of mine own body, and the heart
    Where mine his thoughts did kindle- that our stars,
    Unreconciliable, should divide
    Our equalness to this. Hear me, good friends-

                    Enter an EGYPTIAN

    But I will tell you at some meeter season.
    The business of this man looks out of him;
    We'll hear him what he says. Whence are you?
  EGYPTIAN. A poor Egyptian, yet the Queen, my mistress,
    Confin'd in all she has, her monument,
    Of thy intents desires instruction,
    That she preparedly may frame herself
    To th' way she's forc'd to.
  CAESAR. Bid her have good heart.
    She soon shall know of us, by some of ours,
    How honourable and how kindly we
    Determine for her; for Caesar cannot learn
    To be ungentle.
  EGYPTIAN. So the gods preserve thee!                      Exit
  CAESAR. Come hither, Proculeius. Go and say
    We purpose her no shame. Give her what comforts
    The quality of her passion shall require,
    Lest, in her greatness, by some mortal stroke
    She do defeat us; for her life in Rome
    Would be eternal in our triumph. Go,
    And with your speediest bring us what she says,
    And how you find her.
  PROCULEIUS. Caesar, I shall.                              Exit
  CAESAR. Gallus, go you along.                      Exit GALLUS
    Where's Dolabella, to second Proculeius?
  ALL. Dolabella!
  CAESAR. Let him alone, for I remember now
    How he's employ'd; he shall in time be ready.
    Go with me to my tent, where you shall see
    How hardly I was drawn into this war,
    How calm and gentle I proceeded still
    In all my writings. Go with me, and see
    What I can show in this.                              Exeunt

ACT_5|SC_2

Back at Caesar's camp, Caesar sends Dolabella off to tell Antony to yield. Just then, Decretas, one of Antony's men, enters with Antony's sword. He announces he served Mark Antony while the good man lived and will serve Caesar now, if Caesar will have him. Caesar asks for clarification, and gets out of the woebegone Decretas that Antony is dead. Caesar is shocked and says the world should mourn, as Antony's death is not a single one, but cause for grief on the part of half of the world . Decretas explains Antony took his own life, adding honor to the final act of suicide, just as those same hands had added honor to so many acts before this one. Caesar weeps, and excuses himself, saying it is only befitting to weep over the death of kings, even if it's a king you were trying to kill. Maecenas insightfully contends that Antony was a mirror to Caesar, that Caesar saw part of himself in Antony. Just as Caesar launches into a speech over what a disaster it is that the two brothers in fate have come to this end, he's interrupted by a messenger from Cleopatra. The Queen wants to know what Caesar will do with her, so she can prepare herself. Caesar claims to the messenger that he'll be gentle with her, and cause her no shame. As soon as the messenger leaves, Caesar calls Proculeius to him. Caesar instructs him to go to Cleopatra and give her what she wants to keep her comfortable. Proculeius's real job, though, is to make sure Cleopatra doesn't kill herself, as Caesar's plan is to put her in his triumphant march through Rome, as a symbol of how great his victory is. Caesar worries the Queen will kill herself and thus rob him of the glee he'd get from parading her through the streets as his prize. Caesar asks his men to follow him to his tent, where he'll show them writings that prove he was reluctant to go into this war, and further, that when in the war, he proceeded calmly and gently.


SCENE II.
                Alexandria. The monument

      Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN

  CLEOPATRA. My desolation does begin to make
    A better life. 'Tis paltry to be Caesar:
    Not being Fortune, he's but Fortune's knave,
    A minister of her will; and it is great
    To do that thing that ends all other deeds,
    Which shackles accidents and bolts up change,
    Which sleeps, and never palates more the dug,
    The beggar's nurse and Caesar's.

       Enter, to the gates of the monument, PROCULEIUS, GALLUS,
                          and soldiers

  PROCULEIUS. Caesar sends greetings to the Queen of Egypt,
    And bids thee study on what fair demands
    Thou mean'st to have him grant thee.
  CLEOPATRA. What's thy name?
  PROCULEIUS. My name is Proculeius.
  CLEOPATRA. Antony
    Did tell me of you, bade me trust you; but
    I do not greatly care to be deceiv'd,
    That have no use for trusting. If your master
    Would have a queen his beggar, you must tell him
    That majesty, to keep decorum, must
    No less beg than a kingdom. If he please
    To give me conquer'd Egypt for my son,
    He gives me so much of mine own as I
    Will kneel to him with thanks.
  PROCULEIUS. Be of good cheer;
    Y'are fall'n into a princely hand; fear nothing.
    Make your full reference freely to my lord,
    Who is so full of grace that it flows over
    On all that need. Let me report to him
    Your sweet dependency, and you shall find
    A conqueror that will pray in aid for kindness
    Where he for grace is kneel'd to.
  CLEOPATRA. Pray you tell him
    I am his fortune's vassal and I send him
    The greatness he has got. I hourly learn
    A doctrine of obedience, and would gladly
    Look him i' th' face.
  PROCULEIUS. This I'll report, dear lady.
    Have comfort, for I know your plight is pitied
    Of him that caus'd it.
  GALLUS. You see how easily she may be surpris'd.

      Here PROCULEIUS and two of the guard ascend the
       monument by a ladder placed against a window,
       and come behind CLEOPATRA. Some of the guard
                unbar and open the gates

    Guard her till Caesar come.                             Exit
  IRAS. Royal Queen!
  CHARMIAN. O Cleopatra! thou art taken, Queen!
  CLEOPATRA. Quick, quick, good hands.        [Drawing a dagger]
  PROCULEIUS. Hold, worthy lady, hold,             [Disarms her]
    Do not yourself such wrong, who are in this
    Reliev'd, but not betray'd.
  CLEOPATRA. What, of death too,
    That rids our dogs of languish?
  PROCULEIUS. Cleopatra,
    Do not abuse my master's bounty by
    Th' undoing of yourself. Let the world see
    His nobleness well acted, which your death
    Will never let come forth.
  CLEOPATRA. Where art thou, death?
    Come hither, come! Come, come, and take a queen
    Worth many babes and beggars!
  PROCULEIUS. O, temperance, lady!
  CLEOPATRA. Sir, I will eat no meat; I'll not drink, sir;
    If idle talk will once be necessary,
    I'll not sleep neither. This mortal house I'll ruin,
    Do Caesar what he can. Know, sir, that I
    Will not wait pinion'd at your master's court,
    Nor once be chastis'd with the sober eye
    Of dull Octavia. Shall they hoist me up,
    And show me to the shouting varletry
    Of censuring Rome? Rather a ditch in Egypt
    Be gentle grave unto me! Rather on Nilus' mud
    Lay me stark-nak'd, and let the water-flies
    Blow me into abhorring! Rather make
    My country's high pyramides my gibbet,
    And hang me up in chains!
  PROCULEIUS. You do extend
    These thoughts of horror further than you shall
    Find cause in Caesar.

                      Enter DOLABELLA

  DOLABELLA. Proculeius,
    What thou hast done thy master Caesar knows,
    And he hath sent for thee. For the Queen,
    I'll take her to my guard.
  PROCULEIUS. So, Dolabella,
    It shall content me best. Be gentle to her.
    [To CLEOPATRA] To Caesar I will speak what you shall please,
    If you'll employ me to him.
  CLEOPATRA. Say I would die.
                                  Exeunt PROCULEIUS and soldiers
  DOLABELLA. Most noble Empress, you have heard of me?
  CLEOPATRA. I cannot tell.
  DOLABELLA. Assuredly you know me.
  CLEOPATRA. No matter, sir, what I have heard or known.
    You laugh when boys or women tell their dreams;
    Is't not your trick?
  DOLABELLA. I understand not, madam.
  CLEOPATRA. I dreamt there was an Emperor Antony-
    O, such another sleep, that I might see
    But such another man!
  DOLABELLA. If it might please ye-
  CLEOPATRA. His face was as the heav'ns, and therein stuck
    A sun and moon, which kept their course and lighted
    The little O, the earth.
  DOLABELLA. Most sovereign creature-
  CLEOPATRA. His legs bestrid the ocean; his rear'd arm
    Crested the world. His voice was propertied
    As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends;
    But when he meant to quail and shake the orb,
    He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty,
    There was no winter in't; an autumn 'twas
    That grew the more by reaping. His delights
    Were dolphin-like: they show'd his back above
    The element they liv'd in. In his livery
    Walk'd crowns and crownets; realms and islands were
    As plates dropp'd from his pocket.
  DOLABELLA. Cleopatra-
  CLEOPATRA. Think you there was or might be such a man
    As this I dreamt of?
  DOLABELLA. Gentle madam, no.
  CLEOPATRA. You lie, up to the hearing of the gods.
    But if there be nor ever were one such,
    It's past the size of drearning. Nature wants stuff
    To vie strange forms with fancy; yet t' imagine
    An Antony were nature's piece 'gainst fancy,
    Condemning shadows quite.
  DOLABELLA. Hear me, good madam.
    Your loss is, as yourself, great; and you bear it
    As answering to the weight. Would I might never
    O'ertake pursu'd success, but I do feel,
    By the rebound of yours, a grief that smites
    My very heart at root.
  CLEOPATRA. I thank you, sir.
    Know you what Caesar means to do with me?
  DOLABELLA. I am loath to tell you what I would you knew.
  CLEOPATRA. Nay, pray you, sir.
  DOLABELLA. Though he be honourable-
  CLEOPATRA. He'll lead me, then, in triumph?
  DOLABELLA. Madam, he will. I know't.                [Flourish]
                              [Within: 'Make way there-Caesar!']

       Enter CAESAR; GALLUS, PROCULEIUS, MAECENAS, SELEUCUS,
                     and others of his train

  CAESAR. Which is the Queen of Egypt?
  DOLABELLA. It is the Emperor, madam.        [CLEOPATPA kneels]
  CAESAR. Arise, you shall not kneel.
    I pray you, rise; rise, Egypt.
  CLEOPATRA. Sir, the gods
    Will have it thus; my master and my lord
    I must obey.
  CAESAR. Take to you no hard thoughts.
    The record of what injuries you did us,
    Though written in our flesh, we shall remember
    As things but done by chance.
  CLEOPATRA. Sole sir o' th' world,
    I cannot project mine own cause so well
    To make it clear, but do confess I have
    Been laden with like frailties which before
    Have often sham'd our sex.
  CAESAR. Cleopatra, know
    We will extenuate rather than enforce.
    If you apply yourself to our intents-
    Which towards you are most gentle- you shall find
    A benefit in this change; but if you seek
    To lay on me a cruelty by taking
    Antony's course, you shall bereave yourself
    Of my good purposes, and put your children
    To that destruction which I'll guard them from,
    If thereon you rely. I'll take my leave.
  CLEOPATRA. And may, through all the world. 'Tis yours, and we,
    Your scutcheons and your signs of conquest, shall
    Hang in what place you please. Here, my good lord.
  CAESAR. You shall advise me in all for Cleopatra.
  CLEOPATRA. This is the brief of money, plate, and jewels,
    I am possess'd of. 'Tis exactly valued,
    Not petty things admitted. Where's Seleucus?
  SELEUCUS. Here, madam.
  CLEOPATRA. This is my treasurer; let him speak, my lord,
    Upon his peril, that I have reserv'd
    To myself nothing. Speak the truth, Seleucus.
  SELEUCUS. Madam,
    I had rather seal my lips than to my peril
    Speak that which is not.
  CLEOPATRA. What have I kept back?
  SELEUCUS. Enough to purchase what you have made known.
  CAESAR. Nay, blush not, Cleopatra; I approve
    Your wisdom in the deed.
  CLEOPATRA. See, Caesar! O, behold,
    How pomp is followed! Mine will now be yours;
    And, should we shift estates, yours would be mine.
    The ingratitude of this Seleucus does
    Even make me wild. O slave, of no more trust
    Than love that's hir'd! What, goest thou back? Thou shalt
    Go back, I warrant thee; but I'll catch thine eyes
    Though they had wings. Slave, soulless villain, dog!
    O rarely base!
  CAESAR. Good Queen, let us entreat you.
  CLEOPATRA. O Caesar, what a wounding shame is this,
    That thou vouchsafing here to visit me,
    Doing the honour of thy lordliness
    To one so meek, that mine own servant should
    Parcel the sum of my disgraces by
    Addition of his envy! Say, good Caesar,
    That I some lady trifles have reserv'd,
    Immoment toys, things of such dignity
    As we greet modern friends withal; and say
    Some nobler token I have kept apart
    For Livia and Octavia, to induce
    Their mediation- must I be unfolded
    With one that I have bred? The gods! It smites me
    Beneath the fall I have. [To SELEUCUS] Prithee go hence;
    Or I shall show the cinders of my spirits
    Through th' ashes of my chance. Wert thou a man,
    Thou wouldst have mercy on me.
  CAESAR. Forbear, Seleucus.                       Exit SELEUCUS
  CLEOPATRA. Be it known that we, the greatest, are misthought
    For things that others do; and when we fall
    We answer others' merits in our name,
    Are therefore to be pitied.
  CAESAR. Cleopatra,
    Not what you have reserv'd, nor what acknowledg'd,
    Put we i' th' roll of conquest. Still be't yours,
    Bestow it at your pleasure; and believe
    Caesar's no merchant, to make prize with you
    Of things that merchants sold. Therefore be cheer'd;
    Make not your thoughts your prisons. No, dear Queen;
    For we intend so to dispose you as
    Yourself shall give us counsel. Feed and sleep.
    Our care and pity is so much upon you
    That we remain your friend; and so, adieu.
  CLEOPATRA. My master and my lord!
  CAESAR. Not so. Adieu.
                           Flourish. Exeunt CAESAR and his train
  CLEOPATRA. He words me, girls, he words me, that I should not
    Be noble to myself. But hark thee, Charmian!
                                             [Whispers CHARMIAN]
  IRAS. Finish, good lady; the bright day is done,
    And we are for the dark.
  CLEOPATRA. Hie thee again.
    I have spoke already, and it is provided;
    Go put it to the haste.
  CHARMIAN. Madam, I will.

                      Re-enter DOLABELLA

  DOLABELLA. Where's the Queen?
  CHARMIAN. Behold, sir.                                    Exit
  CLEOPATRA. Dolabella!
  DOLABELLA. Madam, as thereto sworn by your command,
    Which my love makes religion to obey,
    I tell you this: Caesar through Syria
    Intends his journey, and within three days
    You with your children will he send before.
    Make your best use of this; I have perform'd
    Your pleasure and my promise.
  CLEOPATRA. Dolabella,
    I shall remain your debtor.
  DOLABELLA. I your servant.
    Adieu, good Queen; I must attend on Caesar.
  CLEOPATRA. Farewell, and thanks.                Exit DOLABELLA
    Now, Iras, what think'st thou?
    Thou an Egyptian puppet shall be shown
    In Rome as well as I. Mechanic slaves,
    With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall
    Uplift us to the view; in their thick breaths,
    Rank of gross diet, shall we be enclouded,
    And forc'd to drink their vapour.
  IRAS. The gods forbid!
  CLEOPATRA. Nay, 'tis most certain, Iras. Saucy lictors
    Will catch at us like strumpets, and scald rhymers
    Ballad us out o' tune; the quick comedians
    Extemporally will stage us, and present
    Our Alexandrian revels; Antony
    Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see
    Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness
    I' th' posture of a whore.
  IRAS. O the good gods!
  CLEOPATRA. Nay, that's certain.
  IRAS. I'll never see't, for I am sure mine nails
    Are stronger than mine eyes.
  CLEOPATRA. Why, that's the way
    To fool their preparation and to conquer
    Their most absurd intents.

                      Enter CHARMIAN

    Now, Charmian!
    Show me, my women, like a queen. Go fetch
    My best attires. I am again for Cydnus,
    To meet Mark Antony. Sirrah, Iras, go.
    Now, noble Charmian, we'll dispatch indeed;
    And when thou hast done this chare, I'll give thee leave
    To play till doomsday. Bring our crown and all.
                                       Exit IRAS. A noise within
    Wherefore's this noise?

                     Enter a GUARDSMAN

  GUARDSMAN. Here is a rural fellow
    That will not be denied your Highness' presence.
    He brings you figs.
  CLEOPATRA. Let him come in.                     Exit GUARDSMAN
    What poor an instrument
    May do a noble deed! He brings me liberty.
    My resolution's plac'd, and I have nothing
    Of woman in me. Now from head to foot
    I am marble-constant; now the fleeting moon
    No planet is of mine.

          Re-enter GUARDSMAN and CLOWN, with a basket

  GUARDSMAN. This is the man.
  CLEOPATRA. Avoid, and leave him.                Exit GUARDSMAN
    Hast thou the pretty worm of Nilus there
    That kills and pains not?
  CLOWN. Truly, I have him. But I would not be the party that
should
    desire you to touch him, for his biting is immortal; those
that
    do die of it do seldom or never recover.
  CLEOPATRA. Remember'st thou any that have died on't?
  CLOWN. Very many, men and women too. I heard of one of them no
    longer than yesterday: a very honest woman, but something
given
    to lie, as a woman should not do but in the way of honesty;
how
    she died of the biting of it, what pain she felt- truly she
makes
    a very good report o' th' worm. But he that will believe all
that
    they say shall never be saved by half that they do. But this
is
    most falliable, the worm's an odd worm.
  CLEOPATRA. Get thee hence; farewell.
  CLOWN. I wish you all joy of the worm.
                                          [Sets down the basket]
  CLEOPATRA. Farewell.
  CLOWN. You must think this, look you, that the worm will do his
    kind.
  CLEOPATRA. Ay, ay; farewell.
  CLOWN. Look you, the worm is not to be trusted but in the
keeping
    of wise people; for indeed there is no goodness in the worm.
  CLEOPATRA. Take thou no care; it shall be heeded.
  CLOWN. Very good. Give it nothing, I pray you, for it is not
worth
    the feeding.
  CLEOPATRA. Will it eat me?
  CLOWN. You must not think I am so simple but I know the devil
    himself will not eat a woman. I know that a woman is a dish
for
    the gods, if the devil dress her not. But truly, these same
    whoreson devils do the gods great harm in their women, for in
    every ten that they make the devils mar five.
  CLEOPATRA. Well, get thee gone; farewell.
  CLOWN. Yes, forsooth. I wish you joy o' th' worm.         Exit

             Re-enter IRAS, with a robe, crown, &c.

  CLEOPATRA. Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have
    Immortal longings in me. Now no more
    The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip.
    Yare, yare, good Iras; quick. Methinks I hear
    Antony call. I see him rouse himself
    To praise my noble act. I hear him mock
    The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men
    To excuse their after wrath. Husband, I come.
    Now to that name my courage prove my title!
    I am fire and air; my other elements
    I give to baser life. So, have you done?
    Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips.
    Farewell, kind Charmian. Iras, long farewell.
                              [Kisses them. IRAS falls and dies]
    Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall?
    If thus thou and nature can so gently part,
    The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch,
    Which hurts and is desir'd. Dost thou lie still?
    If thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world
    It is not worth leave-taking.
  CHARMIAN. Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain, that I may say
    The gods themselves do weep.
  CLEOPATRA. This proves me base.
    If she first meet the curled Antony,
    He'll make demand of her, and spend that kiss
    Which is my heaven to have. Come, thou mortal wretch,
                    [To an asp, which she applies to her breast]
    With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate
    Of life at once untie. Poor venomous fool,
    Be angry and dispatch. O couldst thou speak,
    That I might hear thee call great Caesar ass
    Unpolicied!
  CHARMIAN. O Eastern star!
  CLEOPATRA. Peace, peace!
    Dost thou not see my baby at my breast
    That sucks the nurse asleep?
  CHARMIAN. O, break! O, break!
  CLEOPATRA. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle-
    O Antony! Nay, I will take thee too:
                               [Applying another asp to her arm]
    What should I stay-                                   [Dies]
  CHARMIAN. In this vile world? So, fare thee well.
    Now boast thee, death, in thy possession lies
    A lass unparallel'd. Downy windows, close;
    And golden Phoebus never be beheld
    Of eyes again so royal! Your crown's awry;
    I'll mend it and then play-

                  Enter the guard, rushing in

  FIRST GUARD. Where's the Queen?
  CHARMIAN. Speak softly, wake her not.
  FIRST GUARD. Caesar hath sent-
  CHARMIAN. Too slow a messenger.               [Applies an asp]
    O, come apace, dispatch. I partly feel thee.
  FIRST GUARD. Approach, ho! All's not well: Caesar's beguil'd.
  SECOND GUARD. There's Dolabella sent from Caesar; call him.
  FIRST GUARD. What work is here! Charmian, is this well done?
  CHARMIAN. It is well done, and fitting for a princes
    Descended of so many royal kings.
    Ah, soldier!                                 [CHARMIAN dies]

                      Re-enter DOLABELLA

  DOLABELLA. How goes it here?
  SECOND GUARD. All dead.
  DOLABELLA. Caesar, thy thoughts
    Touch their effects in this. Thyself art coming
    To see perform'd the dreaded act which thou
    So sought'st to hinder.
                      [Within: 'A way there, a way for Caesar!']

              Re-enter CAESAR and all his train

  DOLABELLA. O sir, you are too sure an augurer:
    That you did fear is done.
  CAESAR. Bravest at the last,
    She levell'd at our purposes, and being royal,
    Took her own way. The manner of their deaths?
    I do not see them bleed.
  DOLABELLA. Who was last with them?
  FIRST GUARD. A simple countryman that brought her figs.
    This was his basket.
  CAESAR. Poison'd then.
  FIRST GUARD. O Caesar,
    This Charmian liv'd but now; she stood and spake.
    I found her trimming up the diadem
    On her dead mistress. Tremblingly she stood,
    And on the sudden dropp'd.
  CAESAR. O noble weakness!
    If they had swallow'd poison 'twould appear
    By external swelling; but she looks like sleep,
    As she would catch another Antony
    In her strong toil of grace.
  DOLABELLA. Here on her breast
    There is a vent of blood, and something blown;
    The like is on her arm.
  FIRST GUARD. This is an aspic's trail; and these fig-leaves
    Have slime upon them, such as th' aspic leaves
    Upon the caves of Nile.
  CAESAR. Most probable
    That so she died; for her physician tells me
    She hath pursu'd conclusions infinite
    Of easy ways to die. Take up her bed,
    And bear her women from the monument.
    She shall be buried by her Antony;
    No grave upon the earth shall clip in it
    A pair so famous. High events as these
    Strike those that make them; and their story is
    No less in pity than his glory which
    Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall
    In solemn show attend this funeral,
    And then to Rome. Come, Dolabella, see
    High order in this great solemnity.                   Exeunt

THE END

Cleopatra curses Caesar for being a knave of Fortune, and thus no better than anybody else . Just then, Proculeius enters. He asks what she wants from Caesar. She remembers this was the man Antony said she could trust, though she doesn't really care to trust anyone just now. She tells Proculeius that she'd like to have Egypt remain her kingdom for her son to rule. Proculeius promises Caesar will take care of Cleopatra, and as he's leaving, Roman soldiers sneak in behind him to guard her. Cleopatra's women, Iras and Charmian, alert her immediately of the infiltration, and she quickly draws a dagger to kill herself. She is even more quickly stopped by Proculeius. He says she's not being betrayed, but relieved. She resents this with a fury-- she promises to starve or thirst herself to death, rather than be gawked at in Caesar's court, or be a thing for Octavia to look down on. She says she would rather die in a ditch in Egypt, or be laid out naked on the Nile where the water-flies can plant maggots in her that will burst her body at its seams , or even be hanged from chains at the pyramids, than go to Rome. She feels pretty strongly, then. Just as Proculeius is promising that this is all pretty unnecessary, Dolabella arrives to take over the guard. Proculeius bids him to be kind to Cleopatra. Cleopatra tells Dolabella all about this dream she had, where Antony was noble and beautiful, holding the world in his raised hands, all full of natural and supernatural beauty. As the Queen grieves and Dolabella watches, he's moved to tell her the truth about what Caesar really plans to do with her. She guesses Caesar means to lead her in triumph and Dolabella confirms her suspicions. Caesar enters with his men. He is full of words and grace for her, and promises to spare her and her children if she does not choose Antony's course of suicide. Still saucy, she retorts that she'll be as the other signs of his conquest, that he might hang where he pleases. Caesar is then given a scroll that supposedly lists all the goods Cleopatra possesses. Cleopatra calls on her treasurer, Seleucus, to confirm that these are all her worldly possessions. The treasurer denies it, which is the exact opposite of what he was supposed to do. Cleopatra rages against the treasurer for revealing her to be a liar, though Caesar says he doesn't mind, and understands her holding back a little. Cleopatra claims what she's held back are just a few lady's trifles, presents for Octavia and friends. Eventually, she breaks down and says people are misjudged in their lives for the ills of others, and are called to account for the ills of others also. Caesar is "merciful" and tells her she doesn't need to worry about it, he won't take any of her things, listed or unlisted, as part of his conquest. He's not a merchant, and he claims he'll treat her as she wants to be treated. Cleopatra, seemingly calmed, calls Caesar her master and her lord. After Caesar leaves, Cleopatra tells her women that she knows Caesar's charming words have something else at the bottom of them. Charmian and Iras, her faithful ladies, encourage her to continue on the course they set. In hushed tones, Cleopatra hears that what she's asked for is being provided. Though we don't know the specifics, we can guess what's up. Dolabella comes in, and since he has so nobly sworn devotion to her, he admits that Caesar will call for her and her children within three days, with the intentions of adding them to the victory march. Then he leaves. Cleopatra says "thanks" and then confers with her women. She can't bear the idea of being shown amid all the common people of Rome, with their plain occupations and rank breath surrounding her as she's played the fool. Cleopatra knows there will be mockeries of the Egyptian lifestyle and they'll have some drunk fool acting as Antony and some young boy acting as her, probably making her look like a whore. She won't stand it, and she's figured a way to beat them. She bids Charmian and Iras to go bring her crown and finest garments. A guard comes in, telling of a rural visitor who's brought Cleopatra a gift of figs. The guard leaves, and Cleopatra mysteriously states that this "poor instrument" brings her liberty. The rural man enters and is left with the Queen. She asks if he's brought her the worm of Nilus, and he confirms that he has. It brings death to anyone who touches it, he warns, and she asks for stories of people it's killed. Satisfied, she sends him off, and he wishes her "joy of the worm." Iras dresses her in all her fine things, and Cleopatra says she hears Antony calling her, praising the deed she's about to do. She claims she is now fire and air--all else of her she leaves on Earth. She bids her women kiss her lips for their last warmth--in doing so, Iras falls and dies. Cleopatra asks if death comes so easy, as a lover's pinch, and moves quickly to die herself, lest Iras find Antony first in death and steal his kisses. She thus applies an asp to her breast, and as Charmian weeps she bids her maid peace, saying, "Dost thou not see my baby at my breast, that sucks the nurse asleep." She applies another asp to her arm, and dies mid-sentence, saying, "What should I stay--." A guard enters as Charmian finishes her lady's sentence, saying there's no reason to stay in this vile world. Charmian applies an asp to herself. Amid the confusion of the soldiers, Charmian says this was work well done, "and fitting for a princess / Descended of so many royal kings." Dolabella, Caesar, and more men trickle in. Caesar wearily announces she must've guessed his intentions, and being royal and such, took her own way rather than suffer humiliation. The men guess at the means by which the women died and, finding a wound on Cleopatra's breast and the figs slimy with the trail of some serpent, realize the ladies had the rural visitor smuggle in snakes to do the deed. Caesar bids Cleopatra be buried next to Antony and states that their love engenders as much pity as Antony's glory, which led them to all of their troubles in the first place. He and the army will attend the funeral and then head back to Rome. He bids Dolabella organize the funeral with great and befitting solemnity. The end.