MARDIAN. 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. ANTONY. Dead, then? MARDIAN. Dead. ANTONY. 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. [_Exit Mardian._] 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. [_Exit Eros._] 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! Enter Eros. EROS. What would my lord? ANTONY. 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. EROS. The gods withhold me! Shall I do that which all the Parthian darts, Though enemy, lost aim and could not? ANTONY. 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. I would not see’t. ANTONY. Come, then, for with a wound I must be cured. Draw that thy honest sword, which thou hast worn Most useful for thy country. EROS. O, sir, pardon me! ANTONY. 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. EROS. Turn from me then that noble countenance Wherein the worship of the whole world lies. ANTONY. Lo thee! [_Turning from him._] EROS. My sword is drawn. ANTONY. Then let it do at once The thing why thou hast drawn it.