Act IV · Scene 12
Another part of the same.
Hover a speech to translate it — or press play to hear it performed.
Enter MARK ANTONY and SCARUS
MARK ANTONY
Yet they are not join'd: where yond pinedoes stand,I shall discover all: I'll bring thee wordStraight, how 'tis like to go.
Exit
SCARUS
Swallows have builtIn Cleopatra's sails their nests: the augurersSay they know not, they cannot tell; look grimly,And dare not speak their knowledge. AntonyIs valiant, and dejected; and, by starts,His fretted fortunes give him hope, and fear,Of what he has, and has not.
Alarum afar off, as at a sea-fight
Re-enter MARK ANTONY
MARK ANTONY
All is lost;This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me:My fleet hath yielded to the foe; and yonderThey cast their caps up and carouse togetherLike friends long lost. Triple-turn'd whore!'tis thouHast sold me to this novice; and my heartMakes only wars on thee. Bid them all fly;For when I am revenged upon my charm,I have done all. Bid them all fly; begone.
Exit SCARUS
MARK ANTONY
O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more:Fortune and Antony part here; even hereDo we shake hands. All come to this? The heartsThat spaniel'd me at heels, to whom I gaveTheir wishes, do discandy, melt their sweetsOn blossoming Caesar; and this pine is bark'd,That overtopp'd them all. Betray'd I am:O this false soul of Egypt! this grave charm,--Whose eye beck'd forth my wars, and call'd them home;Whose bosom was my crownet, my chief end,--Like a right gipsy, hath, at fast and loose,Beguiled me to the very heart of loss.What, Eros, Eros!
Enter CLEOPATRA
MARK ANTONY
Ah, thou spell! Avaunt!
CLEOPATRA
Why is my lord enraged against his love?
MARK ANTONY
Vanish, or I shall give thee thy deserving,And blemish Caesar's triumph. Let him take thee,And hoist thee up to the shouting plebeians:Follow his chariot, like the greatest spotOf all thy sex; most monster-like, be shownFor poor'st diminutives, for doits; and letPatient Octavia plough thy visage upWith her prepared nails.
Exit CLEOPATRA
MARK ANTONY
'Tis well thou'rt gone,If it be well to live; but better 'twereThou fell'st into my fury, for one deathMight have prevented many. Eros, ho!The shirt of Nessus is upon me: teach me,Alcides, thou mine ancestor, thy rage:Let me lodge Lichas on the horns o' the moon;And with those hands, that grasp'd the heaviest club,Subdue my worthiest self. The witch shall die:To the young Roman boy she hath sold me, and I fallUnder this plot; she dies for't. Eros, ho!
Exit