Act 4, Scene 15

Original Text

*Alexandria. A monument. Cleopatra and her maids enter aloft, with Charmian and Iras.* CLEOPATRA. O Charmian, I will never go from hence. CHARMIAN. Be comforted, dear madam. CLEOPATRA. No, I will not. All strange and terrible events are welcome, But comforts we despise. Our size of sorrow, Proportioned to our cause, must be as great As that which makes it.

Modern English

*Alexandria. A monument. Cleopatra and her maids are above, with Charmian and Iras.* CLEOPATRA. Oh Charmian, I will never leave this place. CHARMIAN. Take comfort, dear madam. CLEOPATRA. No, I won't. Every strange and terrible thing that comes, I'll face — but comfort I refuse. The size of our grief must match the size of our loss — and that loss is immeasurable.

Original Text

*Enter, below, Diomedes.* How now! Is he dead? DIOMEDES. His death's upon him, but not dead. Look out o' th' other side your monument; His guard have brought him thither. *Enter, below, Antony borne by the Guard.* CLEOPATRA. O sun, Burn the great sphere thou mov'st in! Darkling stand The varying shore o' th' world. O Antony, Antony, Antony! Help, Charmian! Help, Iras, help! Help, friends below! Let's draw him hither.

Modern English

*Diomedes enters below.* What is it? Is he dead? DIOMEDES. He's dying, but not yet dead. Look out the other side of the monument — his guards have carried him here. *Antony is carried in below by the Guard.* CLEOPATRA. Oh sun — burn out the orbit you travel through! Let the world's ever-shifting shores go dark. Oh Antony, Antony, Antony! Help, Charmian! Help, Iras, help! Help, friends below! Let's pull him up to us.

Original Text

ANTONY. Peace! Not Caesar's valour hath o'erthrown Antony, But Antony's hath triumphed on itself. CLEOPATRA. So it should be, that none but Antony Should conquer Antony, but woe 'tis so! ANTONY. I am dying, Egypt, dying. Only I here importune death awhile until Of many thousand kisses the poor last I lay upon thy lips.

Modern English

ANTONY. Quiet. It wasn't Caesar's courage that brought Antony down — Antony defeated himself. CLEOPATRA. As it should be — that no one but Antony could ever conquer Antony. But oh, the grief of it! ANTONY. I am dying, Egypt, dying. Let me hold death off just a little longer, long enough to lay upon your lips the last of a thousand thousand kisses.

Original Text

CLEOPATRA. I dare not, dear Dear my lord, pardon. I dare not, Lest I be taken. Not th' imperious show Of the full-fortuned Caesar ever shall Be brooched with me; if knife, drugs, serpents, have Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe. Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes And still conclusion, shall acquire no honour Demuring upon me. But come, come, Antony— Help me, my women—we must draw thee up. Assist, good friends. ANTONY. O, quick, or I am gone.

Modern English

CLEOPATRA. I dare not, dear — dear my lord, forgive me, I dare not come down, for fear of being captured. Caesar's grand triumph will never be adorned with me. If a knife, poison, or serpents can do the job, I have my means of escape. Your wife Octavia, with her prim eyes and quiet judgment, will gain no satisfaction from gazing down on my defeat. But come, come, Antony — help me, women — we must haul him up to us. Pull, good friends. ANTONY. Quickly — or I'll be gone.

Original Text

CLEOPATRA. Here's sport indeed! How heavy weighs my lord! Our strength is all gone into heaviness; That makes the weight. Had I great Juno's power, The strong-winged Mercury should fetch thee up And set thee by Jove's side. Yet come a little; Wishers were ever fools. O come, come come, *[They heave Antony aloft to Cleopatra.]* And welcome, welcome! Die where thou hast lived; Quicken with kissing. Had my lips that power, Thus would I wear them out. ALL. A heavy sight!

Modern English

CLEOPATRA. What a feat this is! How heavy my lord weighs! All our strength has gone into grief — that's what makes him feel so heavy. If I had great Juno's power, swift Mercury would fly down and carry you up and set you at Jove's side. A little further — wishing never got anyone anywhere. Oh come, come, come, *[They haul Antony up to Cleopatra.]* Welcome, welcome! Die where you have lived. Come alive with my kisses — if my lips had such power, I would wear them down completely. ALL. A heartbreaking sight.

Original Text

ANTONY. I am dying, Egypt, dying. Give me some wine, and let me speak a little. CLEOPATRA. No, let me speak, and let me rail so high That the false huswife Fortune break her wheel, Provoked by my offence. ANTONY. One word, sweet queen: Of Caesar seek your honour, with your safety. O! CLEOPATRA. They do not go together.

Modern English

ANTONY. I am dying, Egypt, dying. Give me some wine, and let me say a few words. CLEOPATRA. No — let me speak, and let me curse Fortune so loudly that the treacherous creature breaks her own wheel from the force of my rage. ANTONY. One word, sweet queen — seek your honor through Caesar, and your safety. Oh! CLEOPATRA. Those two things don't go together.

Original Text

ANTONY. Gentle, hear me. None about Caesar trust but Proculeius. CLEOPATRA. My resolution and my hands I'll trust; None about Caesar. ANTONY. The miserable change now at my end Lament nor sorrow at, but please your thoughts In feeding them with those my former fortunes Wherein I lived the greatest prince o' th' world, The noblest; and do now not basely die, Not cowardly put off my helmet to My countryman; a Roman by a Roman Valiantly vanquished. Now my spirit is going; I can no more.

Modern English

ANTONY. Please, hear me. Of all Caesar's people, trust only Proculeius. CLEOPATRA. I'll trust my own resolve and my own hands — no one near Caesar. ANTONY. Don't mourn for the wretched turn my life has taken at the end. Instead, let your thoughts find comfort in remembering what I was before — the greatest prince in the world, the noblest. And even now I don't die in disgrace — I haven't cowardly surrendered my helmet to a fellow countryman. A Roman, vanquished by a Roman, and bravely. My spirit is leaving now; I can say no more.

Original Text

CLEOPATRA. Noblest of men, woo't die? Hast thou no care of me? Shall I abide In this dull world, which in thy absence is No better than a sty? O, see, my women, *[Antony dies.]* The crown o' th' earth doth melt.—My lord! O, withered is the garland of the war, The soldier's pole is fallen; young boys and girls Are level now with men. The odds is gone, And there is nothing left remarkable Beneath the visiting moon. *[Faints.]*

Modern English

CLEOPATRA. Noblest of men — will you really die? Have you no thought for me? Am I to remain in this hollow world, which without you is no better than a pigsty? Oh, look, my women — *[Antony dies.]* The crown of this earth is melting away. My lord! The garland of all wars is withered now, the soldier's great standard has fallen. Young boys and girls are no different now from men. The extraordinary is gone, and there is nothing left worth marveling at under the traveling moon. *[She faints.]*

Original Text

CHARMIAN. O, quietness, lady! IRAS. She is dead too, our sovereign. CHARMIAN. Lady! IRAS. Madam! CHARMIAN. O madam, madam, madam! IRAS. Royal Egypt, Empress! CHARMIAN. Peace, peace, Iras!

Modern English

CHARMIAN. Hush, be still, my lady! IRAS. She is dead too — our queen. CHARMIAN. My lady! IRAS. Madam! CHARMIAN. Oh madam, madam, madam! IRAS. Royal Egypt, Empress! CHARMIAN. Peace, peace, Iras!

Original Text

CLEOPATRA. No more but e'en a woman, and commanded By such poor passion as the maid that milks And does the meanest chares. It were for me To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods, To tell them that this world did equal theirs Till they had stolen our jewel. All's but naught; Patience is sottish, and impatience does Become a dog that's mad. Then is it sin To rush into the secret house of death Ere death dare come to us? How do you, women? What, what! good cheer! Why, how now, Charmian? My noble girls! Ah, women, women! Look, Our lamp is spent, it's out! Good sirs, take heart. We'll bury him; and then, what's brave, what's noble, Let's do it after the high Roman fashion And make death proud to take us. Come, away. This case of that huge spirit now is cold. Ah, women, women! Come, we have no friend But resolution and the briefest end. *[Exeunt, bearing off Antony's body.]*

Modern English

CLEOPATRA. I'm nothing more than a woman now, ruled by the same raw grief as the servant girl who milks the cows and scrubs the floors. I want to hurl my scepter at the cruel gods and tell them this world was the equal of theirs until they stole our greatest jewel from it. Nothing means anything now. Patience is stupidity, and senseless rage is no better than a rabid dog's. So is it sinful to rush into death's hidden house ourselves before death chooses to come for us? How are you, women? Come, come — courage! What's wrong, Charmian? My brave girls! Ah, women, women — look: our light is spent and out. Good friends, take heart. We'll bury him; and then — whatever it takes, whatever is noble — let's do it in the high Roman way and make death proud to receive us. Come, let's go. This body that held so vast a spirit is cold now. Ah, women, women — come. We have no friend left but our own resolve, and the quickest end. *[They exit, carrying off Antony's body.]*

Antony and Cleopatra

Act 4, Scene 15

Act 4, Scene 15