Charmian. To what end
These ensigns of your Pomp and Royalty?
Cleopatra. Dull that thou art! why, ’tis to meet my Love;
As when I saw him first, on Cydno’s bank,
All sparkling, like a goddess; so adorned,
I’ll find him, once again: my second spousals
Shall match my first in glory. Haste, haste, both,
And dress the bride of Antony.
Cleopatra. Now set me by my lord. I claim this place:
For I must conquer Caesar too, like him,
And win my share o’ th’ world. Hail, you dear relics
Of my immortal love!
O let no impious hand remove you hence;
But rest for ever here. Let Egypt give
His death that peace, which it denied his life.
Reach me the casket.
Iras. Underneath the fruit
The aspic lies.
Welcome, thou kind deceiver!
Cleopatra.
(putting aside the leaves)
Thou best of thieves; who, with an easy key,
Dost open life, and, unperceived by us,
Ev’n steal us from ourselves; discharging so
Death’s dreadful office, better than himself,
Touching our limbs so gently into slumber,
That Death stands by, deceived by his own image,
And thinks himself but sleep.
Serapion (within). The Queen, where is she?
The town is yielded, Caesar’s at the gates.
Cleopatra. He comes too late t’invade the rights of death.
Haste, bare my arm, and rouse the serpent’s fury.
(holds out her arm, and draws it back)
Coward flesh—
Would’st thou conspire with Caesar to betray me,
As thou wert none of mine? I’ll force thee to it
And not be sent by him,
But bring myself my soul to Antony.
(turns aside, and then shows her arm bloody)
Take hence; the work is done.
Serapion (within). Break ope the door
And guard the traitor well.
Charmian. The next is ours.
Iras. Now, Charmian, be too worthy
Of our great queen and mistress.
(they apply the aspics)
Cleopatra. Already, death, I feel thee in my veins;
I go with such a will to find my lord,
That we shall quickly meet.
A heavy numbness creeps through every limb,
And now ’tis at my head: my eyelids fail
And my dear love is vanished in a mist.
Where shall I find him, where? O turn me to him,
And lay me on his breast—Caesar, thy worst;
Now part us if thou canst.
(Dies. Iras sinks down at her feet and dies;
Charmian stands behind her chair as dressing
her head. Enter Serapion, two priests, Alexas
bound, Egyptians).
Two Priests. Behold, Serapion, what havoc death hath made.
Serapion. ’Twas what I feared. Charmian, is this well done?
Charmian. Yes, ’tis well done, and like a queen, the last
Of her great race: I follow her.
(sinks down; dies).