The ftrong-wing'd Mercury fhould fetch thee up,
And fet thee by Jove's fide. Yet come a little,
Wishers were ever fools. Oh come, come, come

[They draw Antony up to Cleopatra. And welcome, welcome. Die, where thou haft liv'd;

Quicken with kiffing; had my lips that power,

Thus would I wear them out.

All. O heavy fight!

Ant. I am dying, Egypt, dying.

Give me fome wine, and let me fpeak a little.
Cleo. No, let me fpeak, and let me rail fo high,
That the falfe husewife Fortune break her wheel,
Provok'd by my offence.

Ant. One word, fweet Queen..

Of Cæfar feek your honour, with your fafety

2

you

Cleo. They do not go together.

Ant. Gentle, hear me;

None about Cæfar truft, but Proculeius.

Cleo. My refolution, and my hands, I'll truft; None about Cæfar.

Ant. The miferable change, now at my end, Lament, nor forrow at: but please your thoughts In feeding them with thofe my former fortunes, Wherein I liv'd the greatest prince o' th' world, The nobleft once; and do not now bafely die, Nor cowardly put off my helmet to

I can no more

My countryman: A Roman, by a Roman
Valiantly vanquifh'd. Now, my fpirit is going;
[Antony dies.
Cleo. Nobleft of men!-woo't die?
Haft thou no care of me? fhall I abide
In this dull world, which in thy absence is
No better than a ftye? O fee, my women!
The crown o' th' earth doth melt-my Lord!
Oh, wither'd is the garland of the war,

The

The foldier'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.

Char. Oh, quietnefs, Lady!

Iras. She's dead too, our fovereign,

Char. Lady!

Iras. Madam!

Char. Oh Madam, Madam, Madam
Iras. Royal Egypt! Emprefs!

Char. ? Peace, peace, Ifis!

[She faints.

Cleo

8 Peace, peace, IRAS.] Cleopatra is fallen into a fwoon; her maids endeavour to recover her by invoking her by her several titles. At length, Charmian fays to the other, Peace, peace, Iras; on which Cleopatra comes to herself, and replies to these last words, No, you are mistaken I am a mere woman like yourself. Thus ftands this fenfelefs dialogue. But Shakespear never wrote it fo: We must obferve then, that the two women call her by her feveral titles, to fee which beft pleafed her; and this was highly in character: the Ancients thought, that not only Men, but Gods too, had fome names which, above others, they much delighted in, and would fooneft answer to; as we may fee by the hymns of Orpheus, Homer, and Callimachus. The Poet, conforming to this notion, makes the maids fay, Sovereign Lady, Madam, Royal Egypt, Emprefs. And now we come to the place in question: Charmian, when the faw none of thefe titles had their effect, invokes her by a still more flattering one;

Peace, peace, Isis!

for fo it fhould be read and pointed: i. e. peace, we can never move her by these titles: Let us give her her favourite name of the Goddess Isis. And now Cleopatra's answer becomes pertinent and fine;

No more but a mere woman; and commanded
By fuch poor paffion as the maid that milks.

i.e. I now fee the folly of affuming to myfelf thofe flattering titles of divinity. My misfortunes, and my impotence in bearing them, convince me I am a mere woman and fubject to all the paffions of the meanest of my species. Here the Poet has followed Hiftory exactly, and what is more, his author Plutarch in Antonio; who fays, that Cleopatra affumed the habit and attributes of that Goddess, and gave judgments or rather oracles to her

people

Cleo. "No more but a meer woman; and commanded

"By fuch poor paffion as the maid that milks, "And does the meaneft chares!-It were for me "To throw my fcepter at th' injurious Gods; "To tell them, that this world did equal theirs, " "Till they had ftol'n our jewel. All's but naught: "Patience is fottish, and impatience does "Become a dog that's mad: Then is it fin, "To rufh into the fecret house of death,

66

"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.

This cafe of that huge fpirit now is cold.

Come away,

Ah, women, women! come, we have no friend
But refolution, and the briefeft end.

[Exeunt, bearing off Antony's body.

people under the quality of the NEW ISIS Κλεοπάτρα μὲν γὰ καὶ τότε καὶ τὸν ἄλλον χρόνον εις πλήθθ ἐξιῖσα, στολὴν ἑτέραν ἱερον ΙΣΙΔΟΣ ἐλάμβανε, καὶ ΝΕΑ ΙΣΙΣ ἐχρημάτιζε.

ACT

A CT V. SCENE I.

CESAR'S Camp.

Enter Cæfar, Agrippa, Dolabella, Mecænas,
Gallus, and Train.

CESAR.

O to him, Dolabella, bid him yield ;

G Being fo fruftrate, tell him,

He mocks the pauses that he makes.
Dol. Cafar, I fhall.

[Exit Dolabella,

Enter Dercetas, with the fword of Antony.

Caf. Wherefore is that? and what art thou, that dar'ft

Appear thus to us?

Der. I am call'd Dercetas ;

Mark Antony I ferv'd, who beft was worthy

Beft to be ferv'd; whilft he ftood up, and spoke,
He was my mafter, 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 Cæfar: If thou pleaseft not,

I yield thee up my life.

Caf. What is't thou fay'st?

Der. I fay, oh, Cæfar, Antony is dead.

Caf. The breaking of fo great a thing should make A greater crack. The round world fhould have fhook Lions into civil ftreets, and citizens

Into their dens-The death of Antony
Is not a fingle doom, in that name lay
A moiety of the world,

Der. He is dead, Cæfar,

Not

Not by a publick minifter of juftice,

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 fword,

I robb'd his wound of it: behold it ftain'd
With his moft noble blood.

Caf. Look you fad, friends:

The Gods rebuke me, but it is a tiding
To wash the eyes of Kings!

Agr. And ftrange it is,

That nature must compel us to lament
Our most persisted deeds.

· Mec. His taints and honours

Weigh'd equal in him.

Agr. A rarer fpirit never

Did fteer humanity; but you Gods will give us
Some faults to make us men. Cæfar is touch'd.

Mec. When fuch a fpacious mirror's fet before him, He needs muft fee himself.

Caf. O Antony!

I've follow'd thee to this-but we do lance
Diseases in our bodies. I must perforce
Have fhewn to thee fuch a declining day,
Or look on thine; we could not ftall together
In the whole world. But yet let me lament
With tears as fovereign as the blood of hearts,
That thou my brother, my competitor
In top of all defign, my mate in Empire,
Friend and companion in the front of war,
The arm of mine own body, and the heart
Where mine its thoughts did kindle; that our ftars,
Unreconcileable, should have divided

Our equalness to this, Hear me, good friends,
But I will tell you at fome meeter season.-
The bufinefs of this man looks out of him,
We'll hear him what he fays. Whence are you?

Enter