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The last of all the Romans, fare thee well! It is impossible, that ever Rome

Should breed thy fellow.-Friends, I owe more tears
To this dead man, than you shall see me pay.-
I shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time.-
Come, therefore, and to Thassos send his body;
His funeral shall not be in our camp,
Lest it discomfort us.-Lucilius, come;-
And come, young Cato; let us to the field.-
Labeo, and Flavius, set our battles on:-
'Tis three o'clock; and, Romans, yet ere night
We shall try fortune in a second fight.


SCENE IV.-Another Part of the Field. Alarum. Enter fighting, Soldiers of both Armies; then BRUTUS, CATO, LUCILIUS, and others. Bru. Yet, countrymen, O, yet hold up your heads! [me? Cato. What bastard doth not? Who will go with I will proclaim my name about the field :I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho! A foe to tyrants, and my country's friend; I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho!

(Charges the enemy.) Bru. And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I; Brutus, my country's friend: know me for Brutus. [Exit, charging the enemy. Cato is overpowered, and falls.

Luc. O young and noble Cato, art thou down? Why, now thou diest as bravely as Titinius; And may'st be honour'd, being Cato's son. 1 Sold. Yield, or thou diest. Luc. Only I yield to die : There is so much that thon wilt kill me straight: (Offering money.) Kill Brutus, and be honour'd in his death. 1 Sold. We must not.-A noble prisoner! 2 Sold. Room, ho! Tell Antony, Brutus is ta'en. 1 Sold. I'll tell the news.-Here comes the ge



Brutus is ta'en, Brutus is ta'en, my lord.

Ant. Where is he?

Luc. Safe, Antony; Brutus is safe enough :
I dare assure thee, that no enemy

Shall ever take alive the noble Brutus :
The gods defend him from so great a shame!
When you do find him, or alive, or dead,
He will be found like Brutus, like himself.

Ant. This is not Brutus, friend; but, I assure you,
A prize no less in worth: keep this man safe,
Give him all kindness: I had rather have
Such men my friends, than enemies, Go on,
And see whe'r Brutus be alive, or dead:
And bring us word, unto Octavius' tent,
How every thing is chanc'd.



Bru. Come, poor remains of friends, rest on this rock.

Cli. Statilius shew'd the torch-light; but, my lord, He came not back; he is or ta'en, or slain.

Bru. Sit thee down, Clytus: Slaying is the word; It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clytus.

(Whispering.) Cli. What, I, my lord? No, not for all the world. Bru. Peace then, no words. Cli.

I'd rather kill myself. (Whispers him.) I do such a deed?

Bru. Hark thee, Dardanius;

Cli. O, Dardanius!
Dar. Ó, Clitus!

Cli. What ill request did Brutus make to thee? Dar. To kill him, Clitus: Look, he meditates. Cli. Now is that noble vessel full of grief, That it runs over even at his eyes.

Bru. Come hither, good Volumnius; list a word.

Vol. What says my lord? Bru.

Why, this, Volumnius: The ghost of Cæsar hath appear'd to me Two several times by night: at Sardis, once; And, this last night, here in Philippi' fields. I know, my hour is come.


Not so, my lord.
Bru. Nay, I am sure it is, Volamnius.
Thou see'st the world, Volumnius, how it goes;
Our enemies have beat us to the pit:

It is more worthy to leap in ourselves,
Than tarry till they push us. Good Volumnius,
Thou know'st, that we two went to school together;
Even for that our love of old, I pray thee,
Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on it.
Vol. That's not an office for a friend, my lord.
(Alarum still.)

Cli. Fly, fly, my lord; there is no tarrying here.
Bru. Farewell to you;-and you;—and you,

Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep;
Farewell to thee too, Strato.-Countrymen,
My heart doth joy, that yet, in all my life,
I found no man, but he was true to me.
I shall have glory by this losing day,
More than Octavius, and Mark Antony,
By this vile conquest shall attain unto.
So, fare you well at once; for Brutus' tongue
Hath almost ended his life's history:
Night haugs upon mine eyes; my bones would rest,
That have but labour'd to attain this hour.
(Alarum. Cry within; Fly, fly, By.)
Ch. Fly, my lord, fly.


Hence; I will follow thee. [Exeunt Clitus, Dardanius, and Volumnius. I pr'ythee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord: Thou art a fellow of a good respect; Thy life hath had some smatch of honour in it: Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face, While I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato?

Stra. Give me your hand first: Fare you well, my lord.

Bru. Farewell, good Strato.-Cæsar, now be still: I kill'd not thee with half so good a will.

(He runs on his sword, and dies.) Alarum. Retreat. Enter OCTAVIUS, ANTONY, MESSALA, LUCILIUS, and their army.

Oct. What man is that?


Mes. My master's man.-Strato, where is thy
Stra. Free from the bondage you are in, Messala;
The conquerors can but make a fire of him;
For Brutus only overcame himself,

And no man else hath honour by his death.
Luc. So Brutus should be found.-I thank thee,

That thou hast prov'd Lucilius' saying true,
Oct. All that serv'd Brutus, I will entertain them.
Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me?
Stra. Ay, if Messala will prefer me to you.
Oct. Do so, Messala.

How died my master, Strato? Stra. I held the sword, and he did run on it. Mes. Octavius, then take him to follow thee, That did the latest service to my master.

Ant. This was the noblest Roman of them all :
All the conspirators, save only he,
Did that they did in envy of great Cæsar;
He, only, in a general honest thought,
And common good to all, made one of them.
His life was gentle; and the elements
So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up,
And say to all the world, This was a man!

Oct. According to his virtue let us use him,
With all respect, and rites of burial.
Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie,
Most like a soldier, order'd honourably.-
So, call the field to rest and let's away,
To part the glories of this happy day.


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SCENE I.-Alexandria. A Room in Cleopatra's His powerful mandate to you, Do this, or this:



Phi. Nay, but this dotage of our general's
O'erflows the measure: those his goodly eyes,
That o'er the files and musters of the war
Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now turn,
The office and devotion of their view
Upon a tawny front: his captain's heart,
Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst
The buckles on his breast, reneges all temper;
And is become the bellows, and the fan,
To cool a gipsy's lust. Look, where they come !
Flourish. Enter ANTONY and CLEOPATRA, with
their Trains: Eunuchs fanning her.

Take but good note, and you shall see in him
The triple pillar of the world transform'd
Into a strumpet's fool: behold and see.

Cleo. If it be love indeed, tell me how much. Ant. There's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd.

Cleo. I'll set a bourn how far to be belov'd. Ant. Then must thou needs find out new heaven, new earth.

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Take in that kingdom, and enfranchise that; Perform't, or else we damn thee.


How, my


Cleo. Perchance,-nay, and most like, You must not stay here longer, your dismission Is come from Cæsar; therefore hear it, Antony. Where's Fulvia's process? Cæsar's, I would say?


Call in the messengers.-As I am Egypt's queen,
Thou blushest, Antony; and that blood of thine
Is Cæsar's homager: else so thy cheek pays shame,
When shrill-tongu'd Fulvia scolds.-The mes-


Ant. Let Rome in Tyber melt! and the wide arch
Of the rang'd empire fall! Here is my space;
Kingdoms are clay: our dungy earth alike
Feeds beast as man: the nobleness of life
Is, to do thus; when such a mutual pair,

And such a twain can do't, in which, I bind,
On pain of punishment, the world to weet,
We stand up peerless.

Excellent falsehood!
Why did he marry Fulvia, and not love her?-
I'll seem the fool I am not; Antony
Will be himself.

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There's not a minute of our lives should stretch
Without some pleasure now: What sport to-night?
Cleo. Hear the ambassadors.
Fy, wrangling queen!
Whom every thing becomes, to chide, to laugh,
To weep; whose every passion fully strives
To make itself, in thee, fair, and admir'd!
No messenger; but thine and all alone, [note
To-night, we'll wander through the streets, and
The qualities of people. Come, my queen;
Last night you did desire it :-Speak not to us,

[Exeunt Ant, and Cleop. with their Train.
Dem. Is Cæsar with Antonius priz'd so slight?
Phi. Sir, sometimes, when he is not Antony,
He comes too short of that great property,
Which still should go with Antony.

Dem. I'm full sorry, That he approves the common liar, who Thus speaks of him at Rome: But I will hope Of better deeds to-morrow. Rest you happy! [Exeunt, SCENE II.-The same. Another Room. Enter CHARMIAN, IRAS, ALEXAS, and a Soothsayer. Char. Lord Alexas, sweet Alexas, most any thing Alexas, almost most absolute Alexas, where's the soothsayer that you praised so to the queen? O, that I knew this husband, which, you say, must change his horns with garlands!

Alex. Soothsayer. Sooth. Your will?


Char. Is this the man?-Is't you, sir, that know Sooth. In nature's infinite book of secrecy.

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Eno. Bring in the banquet quickly; wine enough, Cleopatra's health to drink.

Char. Good sir, give me good fortune.
Sooth. I make not, but foresee.

Char. Pray then, foresee me one.

Sooth. You shall be yet far fairer than you are.
Char. He means, in flesh.

Iras. No, you shall paint when you are old.
Char. Wrinkles forbid!

Alex. Vex not his prescience; be attentive.
Char. Hush!

Sooth. You shall be more beloving, than beloved.
Char. I had rather heat my liver with drinking.
Alex. Nay, hear him.

Char. Good now, some excellent fortune! Let me be married to three kings in a forenoon, and widow them all: let me have a child at fifty, to whom Herod of Jewry may do homage: find me to marry me with Octavius Cæsar, and companion me with my mistress.

Sooth. You shall outlive the lady whom you


[figs. Char. O excellent! I love long life better than Sooth. You have seen and proved a fairer former fortune

Than that which is to approach.

Char. Then, belike, my children shall have no names: Pr'ythee, how many boys and wenches must I have?

Sooth. If every of your wishes had a womb, And fertile every wish, a million.

Char. Out, fool! I forgive thee for a witch. Alex. You think, none but your sheets are privy to your wishes.

Char. Nay, come, tell Iras hers.
Alex. We'll know all our fortunes.

Eno. Mine, and most of our fortunes, to-night, shall be-drunk to bed. [else. Iras. There's a palm presages chastity, if nothing Char. Even as the o'erflowing Nilus presageth famine. [say. Iras. Go, you wild bedfellow, you cannot soothChar. Nay, if an oily palm be not a fruitful prog

nostication, I cannot scratch mine ear.-Pr'ythee, tell her but a worky-day fortune. Sooth. Your fortunes are alike.

Iras. But how, but how? give me particulars. Sooth. I have said.

[she? Iras. Am I not an inch of fortune better than Char. Well, if you were but an inch of fortune better than I, where would you choose it? Iras. Not in my husband's nose.

Char. Our worser thoughts heavens mend! Alexas, come, his fortune, his fortune.-O, let him marry a woman that cannot go, sweet Isis, I beseech thee! And let her die too, and give him a worse! and let worse follow worse, till the worst of all follow him laughing to his grave, fifty-fold a cuckold! Good Isis, hear me this prayer, though thou deny me a matter of more weight; good Isis, I beseech thee!

Iras. Amen. Dear goddess, bear that prayer of the people! for, as it is a heart-breaking to see a handsome man loose-wived, so it is a deadly sorrow to behold a foul knave uncuckolded; Therefore, dear Isis, keep decorum, and fortune him accordingly! Char. Amen.

Alex. Lo, now! If it lay in their hands to make me a cuckold, they would make themselves whores, but they'd do't,

Eno. Hush! here comes Antony.

Cleo. Saw you my lord?



Char. No, madam.

Not he, the queen.

No, lady.

Was he not here! [sudden

Cleo. He was dispos'd to mirth; but on the A Roman thought hath struck him.—Enobarbus,— Eno. Madam. [Alexas!

Cleo. Seek him, and bring him hither. Where's Alex. Here, madam, at your service.-My lord approaches.

Enter ANTONY with a Messenger and Attendants.
Cleo. We will not look upon him: Go with us.
[Exeunt Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Alexas,
Iras, Charmian, Soothsayer, and

Mess. Fulvia thy wife first came into the field.
Ant. Against my brother Lucius?
Mess. Ay:

But soon that war had end, and the time's state
Made friends of them, jointing their force 'gainst
Whose better issue in the war, from Italy,
Upon the first encounter, drave them.
What worst?


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(This is stiff news) hath, with his Parthian force Extended Asia from Euphrates;

His conquering banner shook, from Syria
To Lydia, and to Ionia;

Ant. Antony, thou would'st say,—

O, my lord! Ant. Speak to me home, mince not the general tongue;

Name Cleopatra as she's call'd in Rome :
Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase; and taunt my faults
With such full license, as both truth and malice
Have power to utter. O, then we bring forth weeds,
When our quick winds lie still; and our ills told us,
Is as our earing. Fare thee well a-while.
Mess. At your noble pleasure.

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Forbear me.

[Exit Messenger.
There's a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it:
What our contempts do often burl from us,
We wish it ours again; the present pleasure,
By revolution lowering, does become
The opposite of itself: she's good, being gone:
The hand could pluck her back, that shov'd her on.
I must from this enchanting queen break off;
Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know,
My idleness doth hatch.-How now! Enobarbus!

Eno. What's your pleasure, sir?
Ant. I must with haste from hence.

Eno. Why, then, we kill all our women: We see how mortal an unkindness is to them; if they suffer our departure, death's the word.

Ant. I must be gone.

Eno. Under a compelling occasion, let women die: It were pity to cast them away for nothing; though, between them and a great cause, they should be esteemed nothing. Cleopatra, catching but the least noise of this, dies instantly; I have seen her die twenty times upon far poorer moment: I do think, there is mettle in death, which commits some loving act upon her, she hath such celerity in dying.

Ant. She is cunning past man's thought.

Eno. Alack, sir, no; her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love: We cannot call her winds and waters, sighs and tears; they are greater storms and tempests than almanacks can report: This cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a shower of rain as well as Jove.

Ant. 'Would I had never seen her!

Eno. O, sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece of work; which not to have been blessed withal, would have discredited travel. your

Ant. Fulvia is dead. Eno. Sir?

Ant. Fulvia is dead. Eno. Fulvia?

Ant. Dead.

Eno. Why, sir, give the gods a thankful sacrifice. When it pleaseth their deities to take the wife of a man from him, it shews to man the tailors of the earth; comforting therein, that when old robes are worn out, there are members to make new. If there were no more women but Fulvia, then had you indeed a cut, and the case to be lamented: this grief is crowned with consolation; your old smock brings forth a new petticoat :-and, indeed, the tears live in an onion, that should water this sorrow.

Ant. The business she hath broached in the state, Cannot endure my absence.

Eno. And the business you have broached here cannot be without you; especially that of Cleopatra's, which wholly depends on your abode.

Ant. No more light answers. Let our officers Have notice what we purpose. I shall break The cause of our expedience to the queen, And get her love to part. For not alone The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches, Do strongly speak to us; but the letters too Of many our contriving friends in Rome Petition us at home: Sextus Pompeius


Hath given the dare to Cæsar, and commands
The empire of the sea: our slippery people
(Whose love is never link'd to the deserver,
Till his deserts are past,) begin to throw
Pompey the great, and all his dignities,
Upon his son; who, high in name and power,
Higher than both in blood and life, stands up
For the main soldier; whose quality, going on,
The sides o'the world may danger: Much is

Which, like the courser's hair, hath yet but life,
And not a serpent's poison. Say our pleasure,
To such whose place is under us, requires
Our quick remove from hence.

Eno. I shall do't.


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Shines o'er with civil swords: Sextus Pompeius
Makes his approaches to the port of Rome;
Equality of two domestic powers [strength,
Breeds scrupulous faction: The hated, grown to
Are newly grown to love: The condemn'd Pompey,
Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace
Into the hearts of such as have not thriv'd
Upon the present state, whose numbers threaten;
And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge
By any desperate change: My more particular,
And that which most with you should safe my going,
Is Fulvia's death.
Cleo. Though age from folly could not give me
It does from childishness:-Can Fulvia die?

Ant. She's dead, my queen:

Look bere, and, at thy sovereign leisure, read
The garboils she awak'd; at the last, best:
See, when, and where she died.
O most false love!
Where be the sacred vials thou should'st fill
With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see,
In Fulvia's death, how mine receiv'd shall be.
Ant. Quarrel no more, but be prepar'd to know
The purposes I bear; which are, or cease,
As you shall give the advice: Now, by the fire,
That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence,
Thy soldier, servant; making peace, or war,
As thou affect'st.

Cut my lace, Charmian, come ;-
But let it be. I am quickly ill, and well:
So Antony loves.

Ant. My precious queen, forbear; And give true evidence to his love, which stands An honourable trial.

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I pr'ythee turn aside, and weep for her; Then bid adieu to me, and say, the tears Belong to Egypt: Good now, play one scene Of excellent dissembling; and let it look Like perfect honour.


You'll heat my blood; no more. Cleo. You can do better yet; but this is meetly. Ant. Now, by my sword,Cleo. And target,-Still he mends; But this is not the best: Look, pr'ythee, Charmian, How this Herculean Roman does become The carriage of his chafe.

Ant. I'll leave you, lady. Cleo. Courteous lord, one word. Sir, you and I must part,-but that's not it: Sir, you and I have lov'd,-but there's not it; That you know well: Something it is I would,— O, my oblivion is a very Antony, And I am all forgotten.


But that your royalty Holds idleness your subject, I should take you For idleness itself.

"Tis sweating labour,
To bear such idleness so near the heart
As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me;
Since my becomings kill me, when they do not
Eye well to you: Your honour calls you hence;
Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly,

And all the gods go with you! upon your sword
Sit laurel'd victory! and smooth success
Be strew'd before your feet!

Let us go.



Our separation so abides, and flies,
That thou, residing here, go'st yet with me,
And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee,

SCENE IV. Rome. An Apartment in Cæsar's

Enter OCTAVIUS, CÆSAR, LEPIDUS, and Attendants
Cas. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know,
It is not Cæsar's natural vice to hate
One great competitor: from Alexandria
This is the news; He fishes, drinks, and wastes

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Lep. I must not think, there are Evils enough to darken all his goodness: His faults, in him, seem as the spots of heaven, More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary, Rather than purchas'd; what he cannot change, Than what he chooses. [not



Cæs. You are too indulgent: Let us grant, it is Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy; To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit And keep the turn of tippling with a slave; To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet With knaves, that smell of sweat: say, this becomes (As his composure must be rare indeed, Whom these things cannot blemish,) yet must AnNo way excuse his soils, when we do bear So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd His vacancy with his voluptuousness, Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones, Call on him for't: but to confound such time, That drums him from his sport, and speaks as load As his own state, and ours,-'tis to be chid As we rate boys; who, being mature in knowledge, Pawn their experience to their present pleasure, And so rebel to judgment.

Enter a Messenger.


Lep. Here's more news. Mess. Thy biddings have been done; and every Most noble Cæsar, shalt thou have report How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea; And it appears, he is belov'd of those That only have fear'd Cæsar: to the ports The discontents repair, and men's reports Give him much wrong'd.

Cæs. I should have known no less :It hath been taught us from the primal state, That he, which is, was wish'd, until he were; And the ebb'd man, ne'er lov'd, till ne'er worth love, Comes dear'd, by being lack'd. This common body, Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream, Goes to, and back, lackeying the varying tide, To rot itself with motion.

Mess. Cæsar, I bring thee word, Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates, Make the sea serve them; which they ear and wound With keels of every kind: Many hot inroads They make in Italy; the borders maritime Lack blood to think on't, and flush youth revolt: No vessel can peep forth, but 'tis as soon Taken as seen; for Pompey's name strikes more, Than could his war resisted.



Leave thy lascivious wassels. When thou once
Wast beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st
Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel
Did famine follow; whom thou fought'st against,
Though daintily brought up, with patience more
Than savages could suffer: Thou didst drink
The stale of horses, and the gilded puddle [deig
Which beasts would cough at: thy palate then did
The roughest berry on the rudest hedge;
Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets,
The barks of trees thou browsed'st; on the Alps,
It is reported, thou didst eat strange flesh,
Which some did die to look on: And all this
(It wounds thine honour, that I speak it now,)
Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek
So much as lank'd not.


It is pity of him.
Cas. Let his shames quickly
Drive him to Rome: 'Tis time we twain

Did shew ourselves i' the field; and, to that end,
Assemble we immediate council: Pompey
Thrives in our idleness.

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