Proculeius,
What thou hast done thy master Caesar knows, And he hath sent for thee: as 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 dream’d there was an Emperor Antony:– O, such another sleep, that I might see
But such another man!
DOLABELLA.
If it might please you,–
CLEOPATRA.
His face was as the heavens; 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 dream’d of?
DOLABELLA.
Gentle madam, no.
CLEOPATRA.
You lie, up to the hearing of the gods. But if there be, or ever were, one such, It’s past the size of dreaming: nature wants stuff To vie strange forms with fancy: yet to 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 it.
[Flourish within.]
[Within.] Make way there,–Caesar!
[Enter CAESAR, GALLUS, PROCULEIUS, MAECENAS, SELEUCUS, and Attendants.]
CAESAR.
Which is the queen of Egypt?
DOLABELLA.
It is the emperor, madam.
[CLEOPATRA 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’ the 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 follow’d! 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.] Pr’ythee go hence;
Or I shall show the cinders of my spirits Through theashes 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’ the 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’ the 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 despatch 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 one of the Guard.]
GUARD.
Here is a rural fellow
That will not be denied your highness’ presence: He brings you figs.
CLEOPATRA.
Let him come in.
[Exit Guard.]
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 Guard, with Clown bringing a basket.]
GUARD.
This is the man.
CLEOPATRA.
Avoid, and leave him.
[Exit Guard.]
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’ the 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’ the 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 despatch. 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,–
[Falls on a bed and 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, despatch: 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 princess 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 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 the 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.]