« ForrigeFortsæt »
Now to that name my courage prove my title !
[Kisses them. Iras falls and dies.
say The gods themselves do weep! Cleopatra.
proves me base; If she first meet the curled Antony, He'll make demand of her; and spend that kiss, Which is
heaven to have. Come, mortal wretch,
[To the Asp, which she applies to her breast.
Charmian. O Eastern Star !
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 wild 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. ist. Guard. Where is the queen ? Charmian.
Speak softly, wake her not. Ist. Guard. Cæsar hath sent. Charmian.
Too slow a messenger.
[Applies the Asp. O come ; apace, despatch; I partly feel thee. ist. Guard. Approach, ho! All's not well; Cæsar's
beguiled. 2nd. Guard. There's Dolabella sent from Cæsar ;-call
him. Ist. 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 !
Enter DOLABELLA. Dolabella. How goes it here? 2nd. Guard.
All dead. Dolabella.
Cæsar, 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, way for Cæsar !
Enter CÆSAR, and attendants.
Bravest at the last;
Who was last with them? ist. Guard. A simple countryman, that brought her
figs; This was his basket. Cæsar.
O noble weakness !
Here, on her breast,
Of easy ways to die.—Take up her bed;
CLAUDIUS, King of Denmark.
The expectancy and rose of the fair state, The glass of fashion, and the mould of form, The observd of all observers ! quite, quite down ! And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, That suck'd the honey of his musick vows, Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh; That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth, Blasted with ecstasy : O, woe is me! To have seen what I have seen, see what I see !
ACT IV. SCENE V.
Laertes. How now! what noise is that ?