Eros, thou yet behold’st me?
Eros, thou yet behold'st me?
Ay, noble lord.
Sometime we see a cloud that's dragonish,
A vapor sometime like a bear or lion,
A towered citadel, a pendent rock,
A forkèd 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.
Ay, my lord.
That which is now a horse, even with a thought
The rack dislimns and makes it indistinct
As water is in water.
It does, 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.
O, thy vile lady!
She has robbed me of my sword.
My mistress loved thee and her fortunes mingled
With thine entirely.
Hence, saucy eunuch! Peace!
She hath betrayed me and shall die the death.
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.