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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,
The crown o’ th’ earth doth melt. My lord!
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CLEOPATRA Most noble man, will you die? Don’t you care about me? Shall I
stay in this dreary world, which is no better than a pigsty without
you? Oh, look, ladies. The best of the world disappears. My lord!
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ANTONY dies
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ANTONY dies.
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65Oh, withered is the garland of the war.
The soldier’s pole is fall’n! Young boys and girls
Are level now with men. The odds is gone,
And there is nothing left remarkable
Beneath the visiting moon.
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Oh, the glory of war has faded. The flags have fallen. Young boys
and girls are equal to men. There is nothing distinctive, nothing
remarkable left in the world.
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CHARMIAN Oh, quietness,
lady!
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CHARMIAN Oh, stay calm, lady!
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CLEOPATRA
swoons
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CLEOPATRA
faints.
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IRAS
70She’s dead too, our sovereign.
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IRAS Our Queen is dead too.
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CHARMIAN Lady!
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CHARMIAN Lady!
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IRAS Madam!
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IRAS Madam!
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CHARMIAN O madam, madam, madam!
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CHARMIAN Oh, madam, madam, madam!
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IRAS Royal Egypt, Empress!
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IRAS Royal Egypt, Empress!
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CLEOPATRA
stirs
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CLEOPATRA wakes
up.
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CHARMIAN
75Peace, peace, Iras.
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CHARMIAN Quiet, quiet, Iras.
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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 scepter at the injurious gods,
80To 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
85Ere 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,
90Let’s do ’t 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.
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CLEOPATRA Now I am no more than a woman, ruled by the same lowly passion as
the maid who milks and does the humblest chores. I might now hurl my
scepter at the destructive gods and tell them that this earthly
world was as good as their heavenly one, until they stole away its
jewel, Antony. Now all is for nothing. Patience is foolish.
Impatience suits a mad dog. So why should it be a sin to rush toward
death, to seek it out in its hiding place before it dares to come to
find me? How are you, my ladies? Tell me! Cheer up! How are you,
Charmian? My gallant girls! Ah, ladies, look: the light of our lives
has gone out. Good noble ladies, be brave. We’ll bury him, and then
we’ll commit acts as brave and fine as any Romans, and make death
proud to take us. Come on, you can go. The container of that great
soul is now cold. Ah, ladies, ladies! Let’s go. We have no friends
but determination and the quickest death.
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