That I haue thee betraid, deare _Antonie_, My life, my soule, my Sunne? I had such thought? That I haue thee betraide my Lord, my King? That I would breake my vowed faith to thee? Leaue thee? deceiue thee? yeelde thee to the rage Of mightie foe? I euer had that hart? Rather sharpe lightning lighten on my head: Rather may I to deepest mischiefe fall: Rather the opened earth deuower me: Rather fierce _Tigers_ feed them on my flesh: Rather, ô rather let our _Nilus_ send, To swallow me quicke, some weeping _Crocodile_. And didst thou then suppose my royall hart Had hatcht, thee to ensnare, a faithles loue? And changing minde, as Fortune changed cheare, I would weake thee, to winne the stronger, loose? O wretch! ô caitiue! ô too cruell happe! And did not I sufficient losse sustaine Loosing my Realme, loosing my liberty, My tender of-spring, and the ioyfull light Of beamy Sunne, and yet, yet loosing more Thee _Antony_ my care, if I loose not What yet remain’d? thy loue alas! thy loue, More deare then Scepter, children, freedome, light. So ready I to row in _Charons_ barge, Shall leese the ioy of dying in thy loue: So the sole comfort of my miserie To haue one tombe with thee is me bereft. So I in shady plaines shall plaine alone, Not (as I hop’d) companion of thy mone, O height of griefe! _Eras_ why with continuall cries Your griefull harmes doo you exasperate? Torment your selfe with murthering complaints? Straine your weake breast so oft, so vehemently? Water with teares this faire alablaster? With sorrowes sting so many beauties wound? Come of so many Kings want you the hart Brauely, stoutly, this tempest to resist? _Cl._ My eu’lls are wholy vsupportable, No humain force can them withstand, but death. _Eras._ To him that striues nought is impossible. _Cl._ In striuing lyes no hope of my mishapps. _Eras._ All things do yeelde to force of louely face. _Cl._ My face too louely caus’d my wretched case. My face hath so entrap’d, so cast vs downe, That for his conquest _Cæsar_ may it thanke, Causing that _Antony_ one army lost The other wholy did to _Cæsar_ yeld. For not induring (so his amorouse sprite Was with my beautie fir’de) my shamefull flight, Soone as he saw from ranke wherein he stoode In hottest fight, my Gallies making saile: Forgetfull of his charge (as if his soule Vnto his Ladies soule had bene enchain’d) He left his men, who so couragiouslie Did leaue their liues to gaine him victorie. And carelesse both of fame and armies losse My oared Gallies follow’d with his Ships Companion of my flight, by this base parte Blasting his former flourishing renowne. _Eras._ Are you therefore cause of his ouerthrowe? _Cl._ I am sole cause: I did it, only I. _Er._ Feare of a woman troubled so his sprite? _Cl._ Fire of his loue was by my feare enflam’d. _Er._ And should he then to warre haue ledd a Queene?