Enter Guardfman, and Clown with a basket. Guard. This is the man. Cleo. Avoid and leave him. [Exit Guard/man. Haft thou the pretty worm of Nilus there, That kills and pains not? Clown. Truly, I have him: but I would not be the party fhould defire you to touch him, for his biting is immortal: thofe, that do die of it, do seldom or never recover. Cleo. Remember'st thou any that have dy'd on't? Clown. Very many, men and women too. I heard of one of them no longer than yesterday, a very honest woman, but fomething given to lie, as a woman should not do, but in the way of honefty. How the dy'd of the biting of it, what pain fhe felt! truly, she makes a very good report o' th' worm: but he, that will believe all that they fay, fhall never be faved by half that they do but this is moft fallible, the worm's an odd worm. Cleo. Get thee hence, farewel. Clown. I wish you all joy of the worm. Cleo. Farewel. Clown. You must think this, look you, that the worm will do his kind. Cleo. Ay, ay, farewel. Clown. Look you, the worm is not to be trufted but in the keeping of wife 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 fo fimple, but I know, the devil himself will not eat a woman: I know, that a woman is a difh for the Gods, if the devil dress her not. But, truly, these fame whore fon 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, farewel. Clown. Clown. Yes, forfooth, I wish you joy o' th' worm. [Exit. Cleo. Give me my Robe, put on my Crown; I have To praise my noble act. I hear him mock I give to bafer life. So have you done? [Applying the afp: [To Iras. Have I the afpick in my lips? doft fall? It is not worth leave-taking. [Iras dies Char. Diffolve, thick Cloud, and rain, that I may say, The Gods themselves do weep. Cleo. This proves me base If the first meet the curled Antony, He'll make demand of her, and spend that kifs, Which is my heav'n to have. Come, mortal wretch, With thy fharp teeth this knot intrinficate [To the ferpent: Of life at once untie: poor venomous fool, Be angry and dispatch. Oh, could'st thou speak, That I might hear thee call great Cæfar afs, Unpolicied! Char. Oh eastern star! Cleo. Peace, peace! Doft thou not fee my baby at my breaft, That fucks the nurse asleep? Char. O break! O break! Cleo. As fweet as balm, as foft as air, as gentle, I 2 O Antony!Nay, I will take thee too What should I ftay (40) [Applying another afp to her arm. Char. In this wild world? fo, fare thee well: Of eyes again fo royal! your Crown's awry ; Enter the Guard, rushing in. 1 Guard. Where's the Queen? Char. Speak foftly, wake her not. 1 Guard. Cæfar hath fent [Charmian applies the afp. Char. Too flow a meffenger. Oh, come apace, difpatch, I partly feel thee. 1 Guard. Approach, ho! all's not well. guil'd. Cafar's be 2 Guard. There's Dolabella fent from Cæfar; call him. 1 Guard. What work is here, Charmian ? is this well done? Char. It is well done, and fitting for a Princess Defcended of fo many royal Kings. Ah, foldiers! [Charmian dies. Enter Dolabella. Dol. How goes it here? 2 Guard. All dead! Dol. Cæfar, thy thoughts Touch their effects in this; thyfelf art coming (40) 0 Antony! nay I will take thee too.] As there has been hitherto no Break in this Verfe, nor any marginal Direction, Thee neceffarily must seem to refer to Antony. But 'tis certain, Cleopatra is here defign'd to apply one Afpick to her Arm, as fhe had before clap'd One to her Breast. And the laft Speech of Dolabella in the Play is a Confirmation of This. Here, on ber Breast, There is a Vent of Blood, and fomething blown ; To To fee perform'd the dreaded act, which thou Enter Cæfar and Attendants. All. Make way there, make way for Cæfar. Dol. Oh, Sir, you are too fure an augurer; That, you did fear, is done. Caf. Bravest at laft: She levell'd at our purpose, and, being royal, Took her own way. The manner of their deaths ? I do not fee them bleed. Dol. Who was last with them? 1 Guard. A fimple countryman, that brought her figs : This was his basket. Caf. Poifon'd then! 1 Gen. Oh Cafar! This Charmian liv'd but now, fhe ftood and spake: On her dead miftrefs; tremblingly she stood, And on the fudden dropt. Caf. O noble weakness! If they had swallow'd poifon, twould appear In her strong toil of grace. Dol. Here, on her breast, There is a vent of blood, and fomething blown : 1 Guard. This is an afpick's trail; And these fig-leaves have flime upon them, fuch That fo fhe dy'd; for her phyfician tells me No grave upon the earth fhall clip in it A pair fo famous. High events as these Strike those that make them; and their story is |