Chapter IV: Part 4

Shall euer ciuile hate
gnaw and deuour our state?
Shall neuer we this blade,
Our bloud hath bloudie made,
Lay downe? these armes downe lay
As robes we weare alway?
But as from age to age,
So passe from rage to rage?
Our hands shall we not rest
To bath in our owne brest?
And shall thick in each land
Our wretched trophees stand,
To tell posteritie,
What madd Impietie
Our stonie stomakes ledd
Against the place vs bredd?
Then still must heauen view
The plagues that vs pursue:
And euery where descrie
Heaps of vs scattred lie,
Making the straunger plaines
Fatt with our bleeding raines,
Proud that on them their graue
So manie legions haue.
And with our fleshes still
_Neptune_ his fishes fill
And dronke with bloud from blue
The sea take blushing hue:
As iuice of _Tyrian_ shell,
When clarified well
To wolle of finest fields
A purple glosse it yelds.
But since the rule of _Rome_,
To one mans hand is come,
Who gouernes without mate
Hir now vnited state,
Late iointlie rulde by three
Enuieng mutuallie,
Whose triple yoke much woe
On _Latines_ necks did throwe:
I hope the cause of iarre,
And of this bloudie warre,
And deadlie discord gone
By what we last haue done:
Our banks shall cherish now
The branchie pale-hew'd bow
Of _Oliue_, _Pallas_ praise,
In stede of barraine bayes.
And that his temple dore,
Which bloudie _Mars_ before
Held open, now at last
Olde _Ianus_ shall make fast:
And rust the sword consume,
And spoild of wauing plume,
The vseles morion shall
On crooke hang by the wall.
At least if warre returne
It shall not here soiourne,
To kill vs with those armes
Were forg'd for others harmes:
But haue their pointes addrest,
Against the _Germaines_ brest,
The _Parthians_ fayned flight,
The _Biscaines_ martiall might.
Olde Memorie doth there
Painted on forhead weare
Our Fathers praise: thence torne
Our triumphes baies haue worne:
Therby our matchles _Rome_
Whilome of Shepeheards come
Rais'd to this greatnes stands,
The Queene of forraine lands.
Which now euen seemes to face
The heau'ns, her glories place:
Nought resting vnder Skies
That dares affront her eies.
So that she needes but feare
The weapons _Ioue_ doth beare,
Who angrie at one blowe
May her quite ouerthrowe.

Act. 5.

_Cleopatra._ _Euphron._ _Children of Cleopatra._
_Charmion._ _Eras._

_Cleop._

O cruell Fortune! ô accursed lott!
O plaguy loue! ô most detested brand!
O wretched ioyes! ô beauties miserable!
O deadlie state! ô deadly roialtie!
O hatefull life! ô Queene most lamentable!
O _Antonie_ by my fault buriable!
O hellish worke of heau'n! alas! the wrath
Of all the Gods at once on vs is falne.
Vnhappie Queene! ô would I in this world
The wandring light of day had neuer sene?
Alas! of mine the plague and poison I
The crowne haue lost my ancestors me left,
This Realme I haue to straungers subiect made,
And robd my children of their heritage.
Yet this is nought (alas!) vnto the price
Of you deare husband, whome my snares entrap'd:
Of you, whom I haue plagu'd, whom I haue made
With bloudie hand a guest of mouldie Tombe:
Of you, whome I destroid, of you, deare Lord,
Whome I of Empire, honor, life haue spoil'd.
O hurtfull woman! and can I yet liue,
Yet longer liue in this Ghost-haunted tombe?
Can I yet breathe! can yet in such annoy,
Yet can my Soule within this bodie dwell?
O Sisters you that spinne the thredes of death!
O _Styx_! ô _Phlegethon_! you brookes of hell!
O Impes of _Night_!

_Euph._ Liue for your childrens sake:
Let not your death of kingdome them depriue.
Alas what shall they do? who will haue care?
Who will preserue this royall race of yours?
Who pittie take? euen now me seemes I see
These little soules to seruile bondage falne,
And borne in triumph.

_Cl._ Ah most miserable!

_Euph._ Their tender armes with cursed corde fast bound
At their weake backs.

_Cl._ Ah Gods what pittie more!

_Eph._ Their seelie necks to ground with weaknesse bend.

_Cl._ Neuer on vs, good Gods, such mischiefe sende.

_Euph._ And pointed at with fingers as they go.

_Cl._ Rather a thousand deaths.

_Euph._ Lastly his knife
Some cruell caytiue in their bloud embrue.

_Cl._ Ah my heart breaks. By shadie bankes of hell,
By fieldes wheron the lonely Ghosts do treade,
By my soule, and the soule of _Antonie_
I you beseche, _Euphron_, of them haue care.
Be their good Father, let your wisedome lett
That they fall not into this Tyrants handes.
Rather conduct them where their freezed locks
Black _Æthiopes_ to neighbour Sunne do shewe;
On wauie _Ocean_ at the waters will;
On barraine cliffes of snowie _Caucasus_;
To Tigers swift, to Lions, and to Beares;
And rather, rather vnto euery coaste,
To eu'rie land and sea: for nought I feare
As rage of him, whose thirst no bloud can quench.
Adieu deare children, children deare adieu:
Good _Isis_ you to place of safetie guide,
Farre from our foes, where you your liues may leade
In free estate deuoid of seruile dread.
Remember not, my children, you were borne
Of such a Princelie race: remember not
So manie braue Kings which haue _Egipt_ rul'de
In right descent your ancestors haue bene:
That this great _Antonie_ your Father was,
_Hercules_ bloud, and more then he in praise.
For your high courage such remembrance will,
Seing your fall with burning rages fill.
Who knowes if that your hands false _Destinie_
The Scepters promis'd of imperiouse _Rome_,
In stede of them shall crooked shepehookes beare,
Needles or forkes, or guide the carte, or plough?
Ah learne t' endure: your birth and high estate
Forget, my babes, and bend to force of fate.
Farwell, my babes, farwell, my hart is clos'de
With pitie and paine, my self with death enclos'de,
My breath doth faile. Farwell for euermore,
Your Sire and me you shall see neuer more.
Farwell swete care, farwell.

_Chil._ Madame Adieu.

_Cl._ Ah this voice killes me. Ah good Gods! I swounde.
I can no more, I die.

_Eras._ Madame, alas!
And will you yeld to woe? Ah speake to vs.

_Eup._ Come children.

_Chil._ We come.

_Eup._ Follow we our chaunce.
The Gods shall guide vs.

_Char._ O too cruell lott!
O too hard chaunce! Sister what shall we do,
What shall we do, alas! if murthring darte
Of death arriue while that in slumbring swound
Half dead she lie with anguish ouergone?

_Er._ Her face is frozen.

_Ch._ Madame for Gods loue
Leaue vs not thus: bidd vs yet first farwell.
Alas! wepe ouer _Antonie_: Let not
His bodie be without due rites entomb'de.

_Cl._ Ah, ah.

_Char._ Madame.

_Cle._ Ay me!

_Cl._ How fainte she is?

_Cl._ My Sisters, holde me vp. How wretched I,
How cursed am! and was ther euer one
By Fortunes hate into more dolours throwne?
Ah, weeping _Niobe_, although thy hart
Beholdes itselfe enwrap'd in causefull woe
For thy dead children, that a senceless rocke
With griefe become, on _Sipylus_ thou stand'st
In endles teares: yet didst thou neuer feele
The weights of griefe that on my heart do lie.
Thy Children thou, mine I poore soule haue lost,
And lost their Father, more then them I waile,
Lost this faire realme; yet me the heauens wrathe
Into a Stone not yet transformed hath.
_Phaetons_ sisters, daughters of the Sunne,
Which waile your brother falne into the streames
Of stately _Po_: the Gods vpon the bankes
Your bodies to banke-louing Alders turn'd.
For me, I sigh, I ceasles wepe, and waile,
And heauen pittiles laughes at my woe,
Reuiues, renewes it still: and in the ende
(Oh crueltie!) doth death for comfort lende.
Die _Cleopatra_ then, no longer stay
From _Antonie_, who thee at _Styx_ attends:
Goe ioine thy Ghost with his, and sobbe no more
Without his loue within these tombes enclos'd.

_Eras._ Alas! yet let vs wepe, lest sodaine death
From him our teares, and those last duties take
Vnto his tombe we owe. _Ch._ Ah let vs wepe
While moisture lasts, then die before his feete.

_Cl._ who furnish will mine eies with streaming teares
My boiling anguish worthilie to waile,
Waile thee _Antonie_, _Antonie_ my heart?
Alas, how much I weeping liquor want!
Yet haue mine eies quite drawne their Conduits drie
By long beweeping my disastred harmes.
Now reason is that from my side they sucke
First vitall moisture, then the vitall bloud.
Then let the bloud from my sad eies out flowe,
And smoking yet with thine in mixture growe.
Moist it, and heate it newe, and neuer stopp,
All watring thee, while yet remaines one dropp.

_Cha._ _Antonie_ take our teares: this is the last
Of all the duties we to thee can yelde,
Before we die.

_Er._ These sacred obsequies
Take _Antony_, and take them in good parte.

_Cl._ O Goddesse thou whom _Cyprus_ doth adore,
_Venus_ of _Paphos_, bent to worke vs harme
For olde _Iulus_ broode, if thou take care
Of _Cæsar_, why of vs tak'st thou no care?
_Antonie_ did descend, as well as he,
From thine own Sonne by long enchained line:
And might haue rul'd by one and self same fate,
True _Troian_ bloud, the statelie _Romain_ state.
_Antonie_, poore _Antonie_, my deare soule,
Now but a blocke, the bootie of a tombe,
Thy life, thy heate is lost, thy coullor gone,
And hideous palenes on thy face hath seaz'd.
Thy eies, two Sunnes, the lodging place of loue,
Which yet for tents to warlike _Mars_ did serue,
Lock'd vp in lidds (as faire daies cherefull light
Which darknesse flies) do winking hide in night.
_Antonie_ by our true loues I thee beseche,
And by our hearts swete sparks haue sett on fire,
Our holy mariage, and the tender ruthe
Of our deare babes, knot of our amitie:
My dolefull voice thy eare let entertaine,
And take me with thee to the hellish plaine,
Thy wife, thy frend: heare _Antonie_, ô heare
My sobbing sighes, if here thou be, or there.
Liued thus long, the winged race of yeares
Ended I haue as _Destinie_ decreed,
Flourish'd and raign'd, and taken iust reuenge
Of him who me both hated and despisde.
Happie, alas too happie! if of _Rome_
Only the fleete had hither neuer come.
And now of me an Image great shall goe
Vnder the earth to bury there my woe.
What say I? where am I? ô _Cleopatra_,
Poore _Cleopatra_, griefe thy reason reaues.
No, no, most happie in this happles case,
To die with thee, and dieng thee embrace:
My bodie ioynde with thine, my mouth with thine,
My mouth, whose moisture burning sighes haue dried:
To be in one selfe tombe, and one selfe chest,
And wrapt with thee in one selfe sheete to rest.
The sharpest torment in my heart I feele
Is that I staie from thee, my heart, this while.
Die will I straight now, now streight will I die,
And streight with thee a wandring shade will be,
Vnder the _Cypres_ trees thou haunt'st alone,
Where brookes of hell do falling seeme to mone.
But yet I stay, and yet thee ouerliue,
That ere I die due rites I may thee giue.
A thousand sobbes I from my brest will teare,
With thousand plaints thy funeralles adorne:
My haire shall serue for thy oblations,
My boiling teares for thy effusions,
Mine eies thy fire: for out of them the flame
(Which burnt thy heart on me enamour'd) came.
Wepe my companions, wepe, and from your eies
Raine downe on him of teares a brinish streame.
Mine can no more, consumed by the coales
Which from my breast, as from a furnace, rise.
Martir your breasts with multiplied blowes,
With violent hands teare of your hanging haire,
Outrage your face: alas! why should we seeke
(Since now we die) our beawties more to kepe?
I spent in teares, not able more to spende,
But kisse him now, what rests me more to doe?
Then lett me kisse you, you faire eies, my light,
Front seate of honor, face most fierce, most faire!
O neck, ô armes, ô hands, ô breast where death
(Oh mischief) comes to choake vp vitall breath.
A thousand kisses, thousand thousand more
Let you my mouth for honors farewell giue:
That in this office weake my limmes may growe,
Fainting on you, and fourth my soule may flowe.

At Ramsburie. 26. of Nouember.

1590.

* * * * *
* * * *
* * * * *

ERRATA

_Discourse_

C2v so gredelie it seekes to murther them. _formatting ambiguous: short line, but following word not indented_ C3 not withdrawen _no space in printed text_ C3v We folow solitarines, to flie carefulnes. _text reads "carefulues"_ C4 applied to mans naturall disposition _text reads "to / to" at line break_ D and this feeles the euill present _text unchanged: error for "thus"?_ this great and incurable disease of olde age _text reads "iucurable"_ Dv what good I pray can hee haue but onlie _text reads "bnt"_ D2v of the paines we felt at our birth? _question mark printed upside-down)

_Antonius_

Spelling and capitalization are unchanged. Forms such as "Phæbus" and "Phænician" (for "Phoebus" and "Phoenician") are used consistently; since names are in Roman type, there is no chance of error or ambiguity.

F2v Yelded _Pelusium_ on this Countries shore _text reads "_Pelusuim_"_ F3v To see at once so many Romanes there _text reads "Komanes"_ F4 Betraies thy loue, thy life alas! betraies _text reads "alas!)"_ Gv (As curse may blessing haue) _text reads ") As"_ G2v Fi'ring a brand _text unchanged_ H No humain force can them withstand, but death. _text reads "bnt"_ Hv _Er._ Feare of a woman troubled so his sprite? _comma for period_ H2 If we therin sometimes some faultes commit _no space in printed text_ Before they be in this our worlde borne: _text reads "wordle"_ H3 That giue them vp to aduersaries handes _text reads "adnersaries"_ H3v His legions led to drinke _Euphrates_ streames _text reads "legious"_ _Ch._ Our first affection to our selfe is due. _second "e" in "selfe" invisible_ H4 Yet if his harme by yours redresse might haue, _punctuation unchanged_ H4v And high st ate: _text unchanged: error for "high estate"?_ I2 The Allablaster couering of hir face _common variant spelling_ Yet this is nothing th'e'nchaunting skilles _text unchanged_ I4v Which of my greatnes greatest good receiu'd _text reads "Wbich"_ _Lu._ So long time you her constant loue haue tri'de. _text reads "Li."_ K3 Fortune may chaunge againe, _punctuation unchanged_ K4v She doth frequent _Ballonas_ bloudie trade: _text unchanged: normal spelling "Bellona" occurs later_ Mv _Agr._ What? Robbing his owne countrie of her due _flyspeck or ambiguous punctuation at end of line_ M3 _Ag._ What sodaine chaunce thee towards vs hath brought? _text reads "towar ds"_ M3v Accuse the Queene, himselfe of hir lament _text reads "Qneene"_ M4 [consecutive lines] _Dir._ What dost thou more attend? _punctuation at end of line unclear_ Ah _Antonie_! why dost thou death deferre? _question mark unclear_ Nv _Agr._ But best we sought into the tombe to gett _comma for period_ N2 The glorious triumph _Rome_ prepares for me._ _invisible period_ Shall ever civile hate _text reads "bate"_ N3 The _Parthians_ fayned flight, _text reads "fligbt"_ Therby our matchles _Rome_ _letter "m" in "Rome" italicized_ O2v That in this office weake my limmes may growe, _initial "T" in "that" not italicized_