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Cleo. This is the brief of money, plate, and

I am possess'd of: 'tis exactly valued;
Not petty things admitted.-Where's Seleucus?
Sel. Here, madam.

Cleo. This is my treasurer; let him speak,
my lord,

Upon his peril, that I have reserv'd

To myself nothing. Speak the truth, Seleucus.
Sel. Madam,

I had rather seel my lips, than, to my peril,
Speak that which is not.

Cleo. What have I kept back?

Sel. Enough to purchase what you have made known.

Ces. Nay, blush not, Cleopatra; I approve Your wisdom in the deed.

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Ces. Good queen, let us entreat you.

We answer others' merits* in our name,
Are therefore to be pitied.

Ces. Cleopatra,


Not what you have reserv'd, nor what acknow
Put we i'the roll of conquest: still be it yours,
Bestow it at your pleasure; and believe,
Cesar's no merchant, to make prize with you
Of things that merchants sold. Therefore be

Make not your thoughts your prisons: no,
dear queen;

For we intend so to dispose you, as [sleep:
Yourself shall give us counsel. Feed, and
Our care and pity is so much upon you,
That we remain your friend; And so adieu.
Cleo. My master, and my lord!
Ces. Not so: Adieu.

[Exeunt CESAR, and his Train. Cleo. He words me, girls, he words me, that 1 should not

Be noble to myself: but hark thee, Charmian.
[Whispers CHARMIAN.
Iras. Finish, good lady; the bright day is
And we are for the dark.

Cleo. Hie thee again:


I have spoke already, and it is provided;
Go, put it to the haste.

Char. Madam, I will.


Dol. Where is the queen?
Char. Behold, Sir.
Cleo. Dolabella?


Dol. Madam, as thereto sworn by your com


Which my love makes religion to obey,
Intends his journey; and, within three days,
I tell you this: Cesar through Syria
Make your best use of this: I have perform'd
You with your children will he send before:
Your pleasure, and my promise.

I shall remain your debtor.
Cleo. Dolabella,

Dol. I your servant.
Adien, good queen; I must attend on Cesar.
Cleo. Farewell, and thanks. [Exit DoL.]
Now, Iras, what think'st thou?
Thou, an Egyptian puppet, shall be shown
In Rome, as well as I: mechanic slaves,

Cleo. O Cesar, what a wounding shame is With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall


That thou, vouchsafing here to visit me,
Doing the honour of thy lordliness

To one so meek, that mine own servant should

Parcelt the sum of my disgraces by

Addition of his envy! Say, good Cesar,

That I some lady trifles have reserv'd,

Immoment toys, things of such dignity.

Some nobler token I have kept apart

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!

Cleo. Nay, 'tis most certain, Iras: Saucy

[rhymers Will catch at us, like strumpets; and scald Ballad us out o'tune: the quick‡ comedians

As we greet moderns friends withal; and say, Extemporally will stage us, and present

For Livial and Octavia,¶ to induce

Their mediation; must I be unfolded
With one that I have bred? The gods!

smites me


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For things that others do; and, when we fall, Show me, my women, like a queen;-Go fetch

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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
Wherefore's this noise?
[Exit IRAS. A Noise within.
Enter one of the GUARD.

Guard. Here is a rural fellow, That will not be denied your highness' presence; He brings you figs.


Cleo. Let him come in. How poor an instru-
[Exit GUARD.
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 a CLOWN bringing a

Guard. This is the man.

Cleo. Avoid, and leave him. [Exit GUARD. Hast thou the pretty wormt 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.

Cleo. Remembers't 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 fallible, the worm's an odd worm.

Cleo. Get thee hence; farewell. Clown. I wish you all joy of the worm. Cleo. Farewell. [CLOWN sets down the Basket. Clown. You must think this, look you, that the worm will do his kind.§

Cleo. 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.

Cleo. Take thou no care; it shall be heeded. Clown. Very good: give it nothing, I pray you, for it is not worth the feeding.

Cleo. 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.


Cleo. Well, get thee gone; farewell.
Clown. Yes, forsooth; I wish you joy of the
Re-enter IRAS, with a Robe, Crown, &c.
Cleo. Give me my robe, put on my crown; I


Immortal longings in me: Now no more
The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this
Yare, yare, good Iras; quick.-Methinks, I
Antony call; I see him rouse himself

Job of work. + Inconstant.
Act according to his nature.

↑ Serpent.

|| Make haste.

To praise my noble act; I hear him mock
The luck of Cesar, 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
Farewell, kind Charmian;-Iras, long fare-
[Kisses them. IRAS falls and dies.
If thou and nature can so gently part,
Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall?
Which hurts, and is desir'd. Dost thou lie still?
The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch,
If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world
It is not worth leave-taking.

Char. Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain; that I
may say

The gods themselves do weep!

Cleo. 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, mortal

[To the Asp, which she applies to her Breast. With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate Be angry, and despatch. O, could'st thou Of life at once untie : poor venomous fool, That I might hear thee call great Cesar, ass speak! Unpolicied!*

Char. O eastern star!

Dost thou not see my baby at my breast,
Cleo. Peace, peace!
That sucks the nurse asleep?

Char. O, break! O, break!

Cleo. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as Antony !-Nay, I will take thee too :gentle, What should I stay[Applying another Asp to her Arm.

[Falls on a Bed, and dies. Char. In this wild world?-So, fare thee


Now boast thee, death! in thy possession lies
And golden Phoebus never be beheld
A lass unparallel'd.-Downy windows, close;

Of eyes again so royal! Your crown's awry ;
I'll mend it, and then play.

Enter the GUARD, rushing in. 1 Guard. Where is the queen? Char. Speak softly, wake her not. 1 Guard. Cesar hath sentChar. Too slow a messenger.

[Applies the Asp. O, come; apace, despatch: I partly feel thee. 1 Guard. Approach, ho! All's not well: Ce

sar's beguil'd.

2 Guard. There's Dolabella sent from Cesar;-call him.

1 Guard. What work is here?-Charmian, is this well done?

Char. It is well done, and fitting for a prinDescended of so many royal kings. Ah, soldier!


Dol. How goes it here?

2 Guard. All dead.

Dol. Cesar, 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 Cesar!

* Unpolitic, to leave me to myself.

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Dol. Here, on her breast, There is a vent of blood, and something blown: The like is on her arm.

1 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.

Ces. Most probable,

She had pursu'd conclusions infinite
That so she died; for her physician tells me,

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 clipt 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
In solemn show, attend the funeral;
And then to Rome.-Come, Dolabella, see
High order in this great solemnity. [Exeunt.
+ Enfold.

*Tried experiments.

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Enter POET, PAINTER, JEWELLER, Merchant, and others, at several Doors.

Poet. Good day, Sir.

Pain. I am glad you are well.

Pain. You are rapt, Sir, in some work, some dedication

To the great lord.


Poet. A thing slipp'd idly from me.
Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes
From whence 'tis nourished: The fire i'the
Shows not, till it be struck; our gentle flame
Provokes itself, and, like the current, flies

Poet. I have not seen you long; How goes Each bound it chafes. What have you there?

the world?

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Pain. A picture, Sir.-And when comes your

book forth?

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I have, in this rough work, shap'd out a man,

* As soon as my book has been presented to Timon, + I. e. The contest of art with nature,

Whom this beneath world doth embrace and I

With amplest entertainment: My free drift
Halts not particularly, but moves itself
In a wide sea of wax: no levell'd malice
Infects one comma in the course I hold;
But flies an eagle flight, bold, and forth on,
Leaving no tract behind.

Pain. How shall I understand you?
Poet. I'll unbolt to you.

You see how all conditions, how all minds,
(As well of glib and slippery creatures, as
Of grave and austere quality,) tender down
Their services to lord Timon: his large fortune,
Upon his good and gracious nature hanging,
Subdues and properties to his love and tend-


All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-fac'd

To Apemantus, that few things loves better
Than to abhor himself: even he drops down
The knee before him, and returns in peace
Most rich in Timon's nod.

Pain. I saw them speak together.

Poet. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill,

Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd: The base
o'the mount

Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures,
That labour on the bosom of this sphere
To propogate their states: amongst them all,
Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd,
One do I personate of lord Timon's frame,
Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to
Whose present grace to present slaves and ser-

Translates his rivals.

Pain. 'Tis conceiv'd to scope.
This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, me-
With one man beckon'd from the rest below,
Bowing his head against the steepy mount
To climb his happiness, would be well ex-
In our condition.

Poet. Nay, Sir, but hear me on:
All those which were his fellows but of late,
(Some better than his value,) on the moment
Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tend-


Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear,

Ven. Serv. Ay, my good lord: five talents is
his debt;

His means most short, his creditors most strait:
Your honourable letter he desires [him,
To those have shut him up; which failing to
Periods his comfort.

Tim. Noble Ventidius! Well;

I am not of that feather, to shake off [him
My friend when he must need me. I do know
A gentleman, that well deserves a help,
Which he shall have: I'll pay the debt, and
free him.


Ven. Serv. Your lordship ever binds him. Tim. Commend me to him: I will send his And, being enfranchis'd, bid him come to [me:"Tis not enough to help the feeble up, But to support him after.-Fare you well. Ven. Serv. All happiness to your honour! [Exit.

Enter an old ATHENIAN.

Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak.
Tim. Freely, good father.

Old Ath. Thou hast a servant nam'd Lu-

Tim. I have so: What of him?
Old Ath. Most noble Timon, call the man
before thee.

Tim. Attends he here, or no?-Lucilius!


Luc. Here, at your lordship's service.
By night frequents my house. I am a man
Old Ath. This fellow here, lord Timon, this
thy creature,
That from my first have been inclin'd to thrift;
And my estate deserves an heir more rais'd,
Than one which holds a trencher.
Tim. Well; what further?

Old Ath. One only daughter have I, no kin

On whom I may confer what I have got:
The maid is fair, o'the youngest for a bride,
And I have bred her at my dearest cost,
In qualities of the best. This man of thine
Attempts her love: I pr'ythee, noble lord,
Join with me to forbid him her resort;

Make sacred even his stirrup, and through him Myself have spoke in vain.
Drink¶ the free air.

of mood,

Pain. Ay, marry, what of these?
Poet. When Fortune, in her shift and change
Spurns down her late belov'd, all his depend-
Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top,
Even on their knees and hands, let him slip


Not one accompanying his declining foot.
Pain. "Tis common:

A thousand moral paintings I can show
That shall demonstrate these quick blows of

More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well,
To show lord 'Timon, that mean eyes** have
The foot above the head.

Trumpets sound. Enter TIMON, attended; the
SERVANT of VENTIDIUS talking with him.
Tim. Imprison'd is he, say you?

My design does not stop at any particular character.
+ Open, explain.
One who shows by reflection the looks of his patron.
To advance their conditions of life.
¶ Inhale.

Whisperings of officious servility.

**Ie. Inferior spectators.

Tim. The man is honest.

Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon:
It must not bear my daughter.
His honesty rewards him in itself,

Tim. Does she love him?
Our own precedent passions do instruct us
What levity's in youth.
Old Ath. She is young, and apt:

Tim. [To LUCILIUS.] Love you the maid?
Luc. Ay, my good lord, and she accepts
of it.

Old Ath. If in her marriage my consent be

Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world,
I call the gods to witness, I will choose
And dispossess her all.

Tim. How shall she be endow'd,
If she be mated with an equal husband?
Old Ath. Three talents, on the present; in
future, all.

Tim. This gentleman of mine hath serv'd me


To build his fortune, I will strain a little,
For 'tis a bond in men. Give him thy daugh

What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoise,
And make him weigh with her.

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