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The strong-wing'd Mercury should fetch thee up,
[They draw Antony up 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. O heavy sight!
Ant. I am dying, Ægypt, dying.
Cleo. No, let me speak, and let me rail so high, That the false husewife Fortune break her wheel, Provok'd by my offence.
Ant. One word, sweet Queen.
Ant. Gentle, hear me ;
Cleo. My resolution, and my hands, I'll trust; None about Cæfar.
Ant. The miserable change, now at my end,
The soldier's pole is fall’n: young boys and girls
8 Peace, peace, TRAS.) Cleopatra is fallen into a swoon; her maids endeavour to recover her by invoking her by her several titles. At length, Charmian says to the other, Peace, peace, Iras; on which Cleopatra comes to herself, and replies to these laft words, No, you are mistaken I am a mere woman like yourself. Thus ftands this senseless dialogue. But Shakespear never wrote it fo: We must observe then, that the two women call her by her several titles, to see which best pleased her; and this was highly in character: the Ancients thought, that not only Men, but Gods too, had some names which, above others, they much delighted in, and would soonest answer to; as we may see by the hymns of Orpheus, Homer, and Callimachus. The Poet, conforming to this notion, makes the maids fay, Sovereign Lady, Madam, Royal Ægypt, Emprefsi And now we come to the place in question : Charmian, when she saw none of these titles had their effect, invokes her by a ftill more flattering one ;,
Peace, peace, Isis! for so it should 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 such poor paffion as the maid that milks. i... I now see the folly of assuming to myself those flattering titles of divinity. My misfortunes, and my impotence in bearing them, convince me I am a mere woman and subject to all the passions of the meanest of my species. Here the Poet has followed History exactly, and what is more, his author Plutarch in Antonio ; who says, that Cleopatra assumed the habit and attributes of that Goddess, and gave judgments or rather oracles to her
Cleo. “ No more but a meer woman; and com.
manded “ By such poor passion as the maid that milks, « And does the meanest chares !-It were for me • To throw my scepter at th' injurious Gods ; “ To tell them, that this world did cqual theirs, “ 'Till they had stol'n our jewel. All's but naught: “ Patience is fottish, and impatience does “ Become a dog that's mad : Then is it fin, « 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
[Exeunt, bearing off Antony's body.
people under the quality of the NEW ISIS. KAcontes μεν και τότε και τον άλλον χρόνον εις πλήθη έξιέσα, στολήν ετέραν τερgν ΙΣΙΔΟΣ ελάμβανε, και ΝΕΑ ΙΣΙΣ άχρημάτιζε. .
A CT V. SCENE I.
Enter Cæfar, Agrippa, Dolabella, Mecænas,
Gallus, and Train.
CÆS A R.
He mocks the pauses that he makes.
[Exit Dolabella, Enter Dercetas, with the sword of Antony. Caf. Wherefore is that? and what art thou, that
darft Appear thus to us?
Der. I am callid Dercetas ;
Caf. The breaking of so great a thing should make
Not by a publick minister of justice,
Cæs. Look you fad, friends :
Agr. And strange it is,
Mec. His taints and honours
Agr. A rarer spirit never
Mec. When such a spacious mirror's set before him, He needs must see himself.
Cæs. O Antony ! I've follow'd thee to this but we do lance Diseases in our bodies. I must perforce Have shewn 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 its thoughts did kindle; that our stars, Unreconcileable, should have divided Our equalness to this. Hear me, good friends, 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?