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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] |
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