No Fear Shakespeare: Antony and Cleopatra: Act 4 Scene 15 Page 4

Original Text	Modern 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, The crown o’ th’ earth doth melt. My lord!	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!
ANTONY dies	ANTONY dies.
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.	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.
CHARMIAN Oh, quietness, lady!	CHARMIAN Oh, stay calm, lady!
CLEOPATRA swoons	CLEOPATRA faints.
IRAS 70She’s dead too, our sovereign.	IRAS Our Queen is dead too.
CHARMIAN Lady!	CHARMIAN Lady!
IRAS Madam!	IRAS Madam!
CHARMIAN O madam, madam, madam!	CHARMIAN Oh, madam, madam, madam!
IRAS Royal Egypt, Empress!	IRAS Royal Egypt, Empress!
CLEOPATRA stirs	CLEOPATRA wakes up.
CHARMIAN 75Peace, peace, Iras.	CHARMIAN Quiet, quiet, Iras.
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.	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.