_Cleo._ Short ceremony, friends; But yet it must be decent. First, this laurel Shall crown my hero's head: he fell not basely, Nor left his shield behind him.--Only thou Could'st triumph o'er thyself; and thou alone Wert worthy so to triumph. _Char._ To what end These ensigns of your pomp and royalty? _Cleo._ Dull, that thou art! why,'tis to meet my love; As when I saw him first, on Cydnos' bank, All sparkling, like a goddess: so adorned, I'll find him once again; my second spousals Shall match my first in glory. Haste, haste, both, And dress the bride of Antony. _Char._ 'Tis done. _Cleo._ Now seat me by my lord. I claim this place; For I must conquer Caesar too, like him, And win my share of the world.--Hail, you dear relicks Of my immortal love! O let no impious hand remove you hence; But rest for ever here! Let Egypt give His death that peace, which it denied his life.-- Reach me the casket. _Iras._ Underneath the fruit the aspick lies. _Cleo._ Welcome, thou kind deceiver! [_Putting aside the leaves._ Thou best of thieves; who, with an easy key, Dost open life, and, unperceived by us, Even steal us from ourselves; discharging so Death's dreadful office, better than himself; Touching our limbs so gently into slumber, That death stands by, deceived by his own image, And thinks himself but sleep. _Serap._ The queen, where is she? [_Within._ The town is yielded, Caesar's at the gates. _Cleo._ He comes too late to invade the rights of death. Haste, bare my arm, and rouse the serpent's fury. [_Holds out her arm, and draws it back._ Coward flesh, Would'st thou conspire with Caesar to betray me, As thou wert none of mine? I'll force thee to it, And not be sent by him, But bring myself, my soul, to Antony. [_Turns aside, and then shows her arm bloody._ Take hence; the work is done. _Serap._ Break ope the door, [_Within._ And guard the traitor well. _Char._ The next is ours. _Iras._ Now, Charmion, to be worthy Of our great queen and mistress. [_They apply the aspicks._ _Cleo._ Already, death, I feel thee in my veins: I go with such a will to find my lord, That we shall quickly meet. A heavy numbness creeps through every limb, And now 'tis at my head: My eye-lids fall, And my dear love is vanished in a mist. Where shall I find him, where? O turn me to him, And lay me on his breast!--Caesar, thy worst; Now part us, if thou canst. [_Dies._ [IRAS _sinks down at her feet, and dies;_ CHARMION _stands behind her chair, as dressing her head._ _Enter_ SERAPION, _two Priests,_ ALEXAS _bound, Egyptians._ _Priest._ Behold, Serapion, what havock death has made! _Serap._ 'Twas what I feared.-- Charmion, is this well done? _Char._ Yes, 'tis well done, and like a queen, the last Of her great race: I follow her. [_Sinks down; dies._