Antony and Cleopatra, Act 4, Scene 14

Eros, thou yet behold’st me?

Eros, you can still see me?

Ay, noble lord.

Yes, noble lord.

Sometime we see a cloud that’s dragonish, A vapour sometime like a bear or lion, A towered citadel, a pendant rock, A forked mountain, or blue promontory With trees upon’t, that nod unto the world And mock our eyes with air. Thou hast seen these signs. They are black vesper’s pageants.

Sometimes we see a cloud shaped like a dragon, sometimes a mist like a bear or a lion, a castle with towers, an overhanging rock, a mountain with two peaks, or a blue headland with trees on it, that nod to the world below and cheat our eyes with nothing but air. You have seen these shapes. They are the shows that dark evening puts on.

Ay, my lord.

Yes, my lord.

That which is now a horse, even with a thought The rack dislimns and makes it indistinct As water is in water.

What is a horse one moment, the drifting clouds blur away in an instant and make it as shapeless as water is in water.

It does, my lord.

They do, my lord.

My good knave Eros, now thy captain is Even such a body. Here I am Antony, Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave. I made these wars for Egypt, and the Queen, Whose heart I thought I had, for she had mine, Which, whilst it was mine, had annexed unto’t A million more, now lost—she, Eros, has Packed cards with Caesar, and false-played my glory Unto an enemy’s triumph. Nay, weep not, gentle Eros. There is left us Ourselves to end ourselves.

My good boy Eros, your captain is now just such a shape. Here I stand as Antony, and yet I cannot hold on to this visible form, my boy. I fought these wars for Egypt, and for the Queen, whose heart I thought was mine, since she had mine, which, while it was mine, had a million more attached to it, all lost now — she, Eros, has stacked the deck with Caesar, and cheated my glory away into an enemy's triumph. No, do not weep, gentle Eros. We still have ourselves left, to make an end of ourselves.

O, thy vile lady! She has robbed me of my sword.

Oh, your vile lady! She has robbed me of my sword.

No, Antony, My mistress loved thee and her fortunes mingled With thine entirely.

No, Antony, my mistress loved you, and mixed her fortunes with yours completely.

Hence, saucy eunuch! Peace! She hath betrayed me and shall die the death.

Get out, insolent eunuch! Be quiet! She has betrayed me and she shall die for it.

Death of one person can be paid but once, And that she has discharged. What thou wouldst do Is done unto thy hand. The last she spake Was “Antony! Most noble Antony!” Then in the midst a tearing groan did break The name of Antony; it was divided Between her heart and lips. She rendered life, Thy name so buried in her.

A person's death can only be paid once, and she has already paid it. What you would do is already done for you. The last thing she said was "Antony! Most noble Antony!" Then, halfway through, a tearing groan broke the name of Antony in two; it was split between her heart and her lips. She gave up her life with your name buried in her like that.

Dead, then?

Dead, then?

Dead.

Dead.

Unarm, Eros. The long day’s task is done, And we must sleep.—That thou depart’st hence safe Does pay thy labour richly. Go.

Take off my armour, Eros. The long day's work is finished, and we must sleep. — The fact that you leave here alive pays you generously for your trouble. Go.

Off, pluck off! The sevenfold shield of Ajax cannot keep The battery from my heart. O, cleave, my sides! Heart, once be stronger than thy continent; Crack thy frail case! Apace, Eros, apace! No more a soldier. Bruised pieces, go; You have been nobly borne. From me awhile.

Off with it, pull it off! The seven-layered shield of Ajax could not keep the pounding from my heart. Oh, split open, my sides! Heart, for once be stronger than the body that holds you; crack your fragile shell! Quickly, Eros, quickly! I am a soldier no longer. Battered pieces, go; you have been worn nobly. Leave me for a while.

I will o’ertake thee, Cleopatra, and Weep for my pardon. So it must be, for now All length is torture. Since the torch is out, Lie down, and stray no farther. Now all labour Mars what it does; yea, very force entangles Itself with strength. Seal then, and all is done. Eros!—I come, my queen.—Eros!—Stay for me. Where souls do couch on flowers, we’ll hand in hand, And with our sprightly port make the ghosts gaze. Dido and her Aeneas shall want troops, And all the haunt be ours.—Come, Eros, Eros!

I will catch up with you, Cleopatra, and weep to be forgiven. It must be so, because now any more living is torture. Since the torch has gone out, lie down and wander no further. Now every effort ruins what it does; yes, strength itself gets tangled in its own power. Set the seal on it, then, and it is all finished. Eros! — I am coming, my queen. — Eros! — Wait for me. Where souls lie on beds of flowers, we will walk hand in hand, and with our lively bearing make the ghosts stare. Dido and her Aeneas will lose their followers, and the whole crowd will be ours. — Come, Eros, Eros!

What would my lord?

What does my lord want?

Since Cleopatra died, I have lived in such dishonour that the gods Detest my baseness. I, that with my sword Quartered the world, and o’er green Neptune’s back With ships made cities, condemn myself to lack The courage of a woman; less noble mind Than she which, by her death, our Caesar tells “I am conqueror of myself.” Thou art sworn, Eros, That when the exigent should come, which now Is come indeed, when I should see behind me Th’ inevitable prosecution of Disgrace and horror, that on my command Thou then wouldst kill me. Do’t. The time is come. Thou strik’st not me; ’tis Caesar thou defeat’st. Put colour in thy cheek.

Since Cleopatra died, I have lived in such dishonour that the gods loathe my lowness. I, who with my sword cut the world into quarters, and built cities of ships on green Neptune's back, sentence myself to be without the courage of a woman; to have a mind less noble than hers, who by her death tells our Caesar, "I am the conqueror of myself." You are sworn, Eros, that when the crisis came — as it truly has now come — when I should see behind me the unavoidable pursuit of disgrace and horror, then at my order you would kill me. Do it. The moment has come. You are not striking me; it is Caesar you defeat. Put some colour back in your cheek.

The gods withhold me! Shall I do that which all the Parthian darts, Though enemy, lost aim and could not?

May the gods hold me back! Am I to do what all the Parthian arrows, enemies though they were, missed and could not do?

Eros, Wouldst thou be windowed in great Rome and see Thy master thus with pleached arms, bending down His corrigible neck, his face subdued To penetrative shame, whilst the wheeled seat Of fortunate Caesar, drawn before him, branded His baseness that ensued?

Eros, would you want to stand at a window in great Rome and see your master like this, his arms folded and tied, bending down his submissive neck, his face beaten low by piercing shame, while the wheeled chariot of lucky Caesar, driven along in front of him, marked him out as the low thing that followed behind?

I would not see’t.

I would not want to see it.

Come, then, for with a wound I must be cured. Draw that thy honest sword, which thou hast worn Most useful for thy country.

Come then, for I must be cured by a wound. Draw that honourable sword of yours, which you have worn to such good use for your country.

O, sir, pardon me!

Oh, sir, forgive me!

When I did make thee free, swor’st thou not then To do this when I bade thee? Do it at once, Or thy precedent services are all But accidents unpurposed. Draw, and come.

When I set you free, did you not swear then to do this whenever I ordered it? Do it now, or all your past services are only unintended accidents. Draw your sword and come.

Turn from me then that noble countenance Wherein the worship of the whole world lies.

Turn away from me, then, that noble face in which the reverence of the whole world rests.

Lo thee!

There you are!

My sword is drawn.

My sword is drawn.

Then let it do at once The thing why thou hast drawn it.

Then let it do at once the thing you drew it for.

My dear master, My captain and my emperor, let me say, Before I strike this bloody stroke, farewell.

My dear master, my captain and my emperor, let me say goodbye before I strike this bloody blow.

’Tis said, man, and farewell.

It is said, man, and goodbye.

Farewell, great chief. Shall I strike now?

Goodbye, great commander. Shall I strike now?

Now, Eros.

Now, Eros.

Why, there then! [kills himself] Thus do I escape the sorrow Of Antony’s death.

Why, there then! [He kills himself] This is how I escape the sorrow of Antony's death.

Thrice nobler than myself! Thou teachest me, O valiant Eros, what I should and thou couldst not. My queen and Eros Have by their brave instruction got upon me A nobleness in record. But I will be A bridegroom in my death and run into’t As to a lover’s bed. Come then, and, Eros, Thy master dies thy scholar. To do thus

Three times nobler than I am! You teach me, brave Eros, what I ought to do and you could not do to me. My queen and Eros have, by their splendid example, won over me a nobility that will be remembered. But I will be a bridegroom in my death, and run to it as to a lover's bed. Come then, and, Eros, your master dies as your pupil. To do this

I learned of thee. How? Not dead? Not dead? The guard, ho! O, dispatch me!

I learned from you. What? Not dead? Not dead? The guard, hey! Oh, finish me off!

What’s the noise?

What is that noise?

I have done my work ill, friends. O, make an end Of what I have begun.

I have done my job badly, friends. Oh, finish what I have begun.

The star is fallen.

The star has fallen.

And time is at his period.

And time has reached its end.

Alas, and woe!

Alas, and what grief!

Let him that loves me strike me dead.

Let whoever loves me strike me dead.

Not I.

Not I.

Nor I.

Nor I.

Nor anyone.

Nor anyone.

Thy death and fortunes bid thy followers fly. This sword but shown to Caesar with this tidings, Shall enter me with him.

Your death and your ruined fortunes tell your followers to run. This sword, just shown to Caesar along with this news, will get me into his favour.

Where’s Antony?

Where is Antony?

There, Diomed, there.

There, Diomed, there.

Lives he? Wilt thou not answer, man?

Is he alive? Will you not answer me, man?

Art thou there, Diomed? Draw thy sword and give me Sufficing strokes for death.

Are you there, Diomed? Draw your sword and give me strokes enough to finish me.

Most absolute lord, My mistress Cleopatra sent me to thee.

Absolute lord, my mistress Cleopatra sent me to you.

When did she send thee?

When did she send you?

Now, my lord.

Just now, my lord.

Where is she?

Where is she?

Locked in her monument. She had a prophesying fear Of what hath come to pass. For when she saw— Which never shall be found—you did suspect She had disposed with Caesar, and that your rage Would not be purged, she sent you word she was dead; But fearing since how it might work, hath sent Me to proclaim the truth, and I am come, I dread, too late.

Shut inside her tomb. She had a fear that foretold what has now happened. Because when she saw that you suspected she had made a deal with Caesar — which will never be shown to be true — and that your rage could not be calmed, she sent you word that she was dead; but afterwards, afraid of how that might work out, she has sent me to announce the truth, and I have come, I am afraid, too late.

Too late, good Diomed. Call my guard, I prithee.

Too late, good Diomed. Call my guard, please.

What, ho! The emperor’s guard! The guard, what ho! Come, your lord calls!

Hey, there! The emperor's guard! The guard, hey there! Come, your lord is calling!

Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra bides. ’Tis the last service that I shall command you.

Carry me, good friends, to where Cleopatra is staying. It is the last service I shall ever ask of you.

Woe, woe are we, sir, you may not live to wear All your true followers out.

We are full of grief, sir, that you may not live to outlast all your loyal followers.

Most heavy day!

What a sorrowful day!

Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp fate To grace it with your sorrows. Bid that welcome Which comes to punish us, and we punish it, Seeming to bear it lightly. Take me up. I have led you oft; carry me now, good friends, And have my thanks for all.

No, my good men, do not gratify cruel fate by honouring it with your grief. Give a welcome to what comes to punish us, and we punish it back by seeming to take it lightly. Pick me up. I have often led you; carry me now, good friends, and take my thanks for everything.