Unarm, Eros. The long day’s task is done
Unarm, Eros. The long day's task is done,
And we must sleep.—That thou depart'st hence safe
Does pay thy labor richly. Go.
Off, pluck off!
Eros begins to remove Antony's armor.
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. Bruisèd pieces, go.
You have been nobly borne.—From me awhile.
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 labor
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!
What would my lord?
Since Cleopatra died
I have lived in such dishonor 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 color in thy cheek.
The gods withhold me!
Shall I do that which all the Parthian darts,
Though enemy, lost aim and could not?
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?
I would not see ‘t.
Come, then, for with a wound I must be cured.
Draw that thy honest sword, which thou hast worn
Most useful for thy country.
O, sir, pardon 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.
Turn from me then that noble countenance
Wherein the worship of the whole world lies.
Lo thee! He turns away.
My sword is drawn.
Then let it do at once
The thing why thou hast drawn it.
My dear master,
My captain, and my emperor, let me say,
Before I strike this bloody stroke, farewell.
‘Tis said, man, and farewell.
Farewell, great chief. Shall I strike now?
Why, there, then. Stabs himself.
Thus I do escape the sorrow
Of Antony's death. Dies.
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
I learned of thee.
He stabs himself.
How, not dead?
The guard, ho! O, dispatch me!