Antony and Cleopatra, Act 3, Scene 11

Hark, the land bids me tread no more upon’t. It is ashamed to bear me. Friends, come hither. I am so lated in the world that I Have lost my way for ever. I have a ship Laden with gold. Take that, divide it. Fly, And make your peace with Caesar.

Listen — the land tells me not to walk on it any more. It's ashamed to carry me. Friends, come here. I've been left so late in the world that I've lost my way for good. I have a ship loaded with gold. Take it, divide it up. Run away, and make your peace with Caesar.

Fly? Not we.

Run away? Not us.

I have fled myself, and have instructed cowards To run and show their shoulders. Friends, be gone. I have myself resolved upon a course Which has no need of you. Be gone. My treasure’s in the harbour. Take it. O, I followed that I blush to look upon. My very hairs do mutiny, for the white Reprove the brown for rashness, and they them For fear and doting. Friends, be gone. You shall Have letters from me to some friends that will Sweep your way for you. Pray you, look not sad, Nor make replies of loathness. Take the hint Which my despair proclaims. Let that be left Which leaves itself. To the sea-side straightway. I will possess you of that ship and treasure. Leave me, I pray, a little—pray you, now, Nay, do so; for indeed I have lost command. Therefore I pray you. I’ll see you by and by.

I have run away myself, and I've taught cowards how to run and show their backs. Friends, go. I've settled on a course for myself that has no need of you. Go. My treasure is in the harbour. Take it. Oh, I chased after something I blush to look at. My very hairs are in revolt, because the white ones scold the brown ones for recklessness, and the brown scold the white for cowardice and infatuation. Friends, go. You'll have letters from me to some friends who will clear the way for you. Please, don't look sad, and don't answer that you're unwilling. Take the hint that my despair announces. Let that be abandoned which abandons itself. Go straight to the seaside. I'll put you in possession of that ship and treasure. Leave me, please, for a little while — please, now, yes, do it; because in fact I've lost all authority. So I beg you. I'll see you shortly.

Nay, gentle madam, to him! Comfort him.

No, gentle madam, go to him! Comfort him.

Do, most dear queen.

Do it, dearest queen.

Do! Why, what else?

Do it! Why, what else is there to do?

Let me sit down. O Juno!

Let me sit down. Oh, Juno!

No, no, no, no, no.

No, no, no, no, no.

See you here, sir?

Do you see who's here, sir?

O, fie, fie, fie!

Oh, shame, shame, shame!

Madam.

Madam.

Madam, O good empress!

Madam, oh, good empress!

Sir, sir!

Sir, sir!

Yes, my lord, yes. He at Philippi kept His sword e’en like a dancer, while I struck The lean and wrinkled Cassius, and ’twas I That the mad Brutus ended. He alone Dealt on lieutenantry, and no practice had In the brave squares of war. Yet now—no matter.

Yes, my lord, yes. At Philippi he held his sword like a dancer holds one, while I struck down the lean and wrinkled Cassius, and it was I who finished off the mad Brutus. He only worked through his subordinates, and had no experience in the brave formations of war. Yet now — never mind.

Ah, stand by.

Ah, hold me up.

The Queen, my lord, the Queen!

The Queen, my lord, the Queen!

Go to him, madam; speak to him. He is unqualitied with very shame.

Go to him, madam; speak to him. He's beside himself with sheer shame.

Well then, sustain me. O!

All right then, hold me up. Oh!

Most noble sir, arise. The Queen approaches. Her head’s declined, and death will seize her but Your comfort makes the rescue.

Most noble sir, get up. The Queen is coming. Her head is drooping, and death will take her unless your comfort rescues her.

I have offended reputation, A most unnoble swerving.

I have wronged my own reputation — a most ignoble straying from my course.

Sir, the Queen.

Sir, the Queen.

O, whither hast thou led me, Egypt? See How I convey my shame out of thine eyes By looking back what I have left behind ’Stroyed in dishonour.

Oh, where have you led me, Egypt? See how I hide my shame from your eyes by looking back at what I've left behind me, ruined in dishonour.

O my lord, my lord, Forgive my fearful sails! I little thought You would have followed.

Oh my lord, my lord, forgive my frightened sails! I never thought you would follow.

Egypt, thou knew’st too well My heart was to thy rudder tied by th’ strings, And thou shouldst tow me after. O’er my spirit Thy full supremacy thou knew’st, and that Thy beck might from the bidding of the gods Command me.

Egypt, you knew perfectly well that my heart was tied by the strings to your rudder, and that you would tow me after you. You knew you had complete mastery over my spirit, and that a nod from you could make me disobey the gods' commands.

O, my pardon!

Oh, forgive me!

Now I must To the young man send humble treaties, dodge And palter in the shifts of lowness, who With half the bulk o’ th’ world played as I pleased, Making and marring fortunes. You did know How much you were my conqueror, and that My sword, made weak by my affection, would Obey it on all cause.

Now I must send humble petitions to the young man, and dodge and haggle in the mean tricks of a low position — I, who used to play as I pleased with half the mass of the world, making and ruining men's fortunes. You knew how completely you had conquered me, and that my sword, weakened by my love, would obey that love whatever the cause.

Pardon, pardon!

Forgive me, forgive me!

Fall not a tear, I say; one of them rates All that is won and lost. Give me a kiss. Even this repays me. We sent our schoolmaster. Is he come back? Love, I am full of lead. Some wine Within there, and our viands! Fortune knows We scorn her most when most she offers blows.

Don't shed a single tear, I tell you; one of them is worth all that's been won and lost. Give me a kiss. Even this pays me back. We sent our children's schoolmaster as envoy. Has he come back? My love, I'm heavy as lead. Some wine in there, and our food! Fortune knows we scorn her most when she strikes at us hardest.