Part 2

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The play was printed in Italic type, with Roman for emphasis. For this e-text, only the emphasis is shown.

Acts 1 and 3 are unlabeled in the text. Act 1 can only be Antony's soliloquy, with following Chorus, but Act 3 is ambiguous. Between Act 2 and Act 4 are: (scene) Cleopatra. Eras. Charmion. Diomede. (soliloquy): Diomed. Chorus (scene) M. Antonius. Lucilius. Chorus Structurally the play seems to have six Acts, but Act 4 and Act 5 are each labeled as such.]

The Argument.

After the ouerthrowe of Brutus and Cassius, the libertie of Rome being now vtterly oppressed, and the Empire setled in the hands of Octauius Caesar and Marcus Antonius, (who for knitting a straiter bonde of amitie betweene them, had taken to wife Octauia the sister of Caesar) Antonius vndertooke a iourney against the Parthians, with intent to regaine on them the honor wonne by them from the Romains, at the discomfiture and slaughter of Crassus. But comming in his iourney into Siria, the places renewed in his remembrance the long intermitted loue of Cleopatra Queene of Aegipt: who before time had both in Cilicia and at Alexandria, entertained him with all the exquisite delightes and sumptuous pleasures, which a great Prince and voluptuous Louer could to the vttermost desire. Whereupon omitting his enterprice, he made his returne to Alexandria, againe falling to his former loues, without any regard of his vertuous wife Octauia, by whom neuertheles he had excellent Children. This occasion Octauius tooke of taking armes against him: and preparing a mighty fleet, encountred him at Actium, who also had assembled to that place a great number of Gallies of his own, besides 60. which Cleopatra brought with her from Aegipt. But at the very beginning of the battell Cleopatra with all her Gallies betooke her to flight, which Antony seeing could not but follow; by his departure leauing to Octauius the greatest victorye which in any Sea Battell hath beene heard off. Which he not negligent to pursue, followes them the next spring, and besiedgeth them within Alexandria, where Antony finding all that he trusted to faile him, beginneth to growe iealouse and to suspect Cleopatra. She thereupon enclosed her selfe with two of her women in a monument she had before caused to be built, thence sends him woord she was dead: which he beleeuing for truth, gaue himselfe with his Swoord a deadly wound: but died not vntill a messenger came from Cleopatra to haue him brought to her to the tombe. Which she not daring to open least she should be made a prisoner to the Romaines, and carried in Caesars triumph, cast downe a corde from an high window, by the which (her women helping her) she trussed vp Antonius halfe dead, and so got him into the monument. The Stage supposed Alexandria: the Chorus, first Egiptians, and after Romane Souldiors. The Historie to be read at large in Plutarch in the life of Antonius.

The Actors.

Antonius. Cleopatra. Eras and } Cleopatras women. Charmion. } Philostratus a Philosopher. Lucilius. Diomede Secretary to Cleopatra. Octauius Caesar. Agrippa. Euphron, teacher of Cleopatras children. Children of Cleopatra. Dircetus the Messenger.

Antonius.

Since cruell Heau'ns against me obstinate, Since all mishappes of the round engin doe Conspire my harme: since men, since powers diuine, Aire, earth, and Sea are all iniurious: And that my Queene her self, in whome I liu'd, The Idoll of my hart, doth me pursue; It's meete I dye. For her haue I forgone My Country, Caesar vnto warre prouok'd (For iust reuenge of Sisters wrong my wife, Who mou'de my Queene (ay me!) to iealousie) For loue of her, in her allurements caught Abandon'd life, I honor haue despisde, Disdain'd my freends, and of the statelye Rome Despoilde the Empire of her best attire, Contemn'd that power that made me so much fear'd, A slaue become vnto her feeble face. O cruell, traitres, woman most vnkinde, Thou dost, forsworne, my loue and life betraie: And giu'st me vp to ragefull enemie, Which soone (o foole!) will plague thy periurye. Yelded Pelusium on this Countries shore, Yelded thou hast my Shippes and men of warre, That nought remaines (so destitute am I) But these same armes which on my back I weare. Thou should'st haue had them too, and me vnarm'de Yeelded to Caesar naked of defence. Which while I beare let Caesar neuer thinke Triumph of me shall his proud chariot grace Not think with me his glory to adorne, On me aliue to vse his victorie. Thou only Cleopatra triumph hast, Thou only hast my freedome seruile made, Thou only hast me vanquisht: not by force (For forste I cannot be) but by sweete baites Of thy eyes graces, which did gaine so fast vpon my libertie, that nought remain'd. None els hencefoorth, but thou my dearest Queene, Shall glorie in commaunding Antonie. Haue Caesar fortune and the Gods his freends, To him haue Ioue and fatall sisters giuen The Scepter of the earth: he neuer shall Subiect my life to his obedience. But when that Death, my glad refuge, shall haue Bounded the course of my vnstedfast life, And frosen corps vnder a marble colde Within tombes bosome widdowe of my soule: Then at his will let him it subiect make: Then what he will let Caesar doo with me: Make me limme after limme be rent: make me My buriall take in sides of Thracian wolfe. Poore Antonie! alas what was the day, The daies of losse that gained thee thy loue! Wretch Antony! since then Maegaera pale With Snakie haires enchain'd thy miserie. The fire thee burnt was neuer Cupids fire (For Cupid beares not such a mortall brand) It was some furies torch, Orestes torche, which sometimes burnt his mother-murdering soule (When wandring madde, rage boiling in his bloud, He fled his fault which folow'd as he fled) kindled within his bones by shadow pale Of mother slaine return'd from Stygian lake. Antony, poore Antony! since that daie Thy olde good hap did farre from thee retire. Thy vertue dead: thy glory made aliue So ofte by martiall deeds is gone in smoke: Since then the Baies so well thy forehead knewe To Venus mirtles yeelded haue their place: Trumpets to pipes: field tents to courtly bowers: Launces and Pikes to daunces and to feastes. Since then, o wretch! in stead of bloudy warres Thou shouldst haue made vpon the Parthian Kings For Romain honor filde by Crassus foile, Thou threw'st thy Curiace off, and fearfull healme, With coward courage vnto AEgipts Queen In haste to runne, about her necke to hang Languishing in her armes thy Idoll made: In summe giuen vp to Cleopatras eies. Thou breakest at length from thence, as one encharm'd Breakes from th'enchaunter that him strongly helde. For thy first reason (spoyling of their force the poisned cuppes of thy faire Sorceres) Recur'd thy sprite: and then on euery side Thou mad'st againe the earth with Souldiours swarme. All Asia hidde: Euphrates bankes do tremble To see at once so many Romanes there Breath horror, rage, and with a threatning eye In mighty squadrons crosse his swelling streames. Nought seene but horse, and fier sparkling armes: Nought heard but hideous noise of muttring troupes. The Parth, the Mede, abandoning their goods Hide them for feare in hilles of Hircanie, Redoubting thee. Then willing to besiege The great Phraate head of Media, Thou campedst at her walles with vaine assault, Thy engins fit (mishap!) not thither brought. So long thou stai'st, so long thou doost thee rest, So long thy loue with such things nourished Reframes, reformes it selfe and stealingly Retakes his force and rebecomes more great. For of thy Queene the lookes, the grace, the woords, Sweetenes, alurements, amorous delights, Entred againe thy soule, and day and night, In watch, in sleepe, her Image follow'd thee: Not dreaming but of her, repenting still That thou for warre hadst such a Goddes left. Thou car'st no more for Parth, nor Parthian bow, Sallies, assaults, encounters, shocks, alarmes, For diches, rampiers, wards, entrenched grounds: Thy only care is sight of Nilus streames, Sight of that face whose guilefull semblant doth (Wandring in thee) infect thy tainted hart. Her absence thee besottes: each hower, each hower Of staie, to thee impatient seemes an age. Enough of conquest, praise thou deem'st enough, If soone enough the bristled fieldes thou see Of fruitfull AEgipt, and the stranger floud Thy Queenes faire eyes (another Pharos) lights. Returned loe, dishonoured, despisde, In wanton loue a woman thee misleades Sunke in foule sinke: meane while respecting nought Thy wife Octauia and her tender babes, Of whom the long contempt against thee whets The sword of Caesar now thy Lord become. Lost thy great Empire, all those goodly townes Reuerenc'd thy name as rebells now thee leaue: Rise against thee, and to the ensignes flocke Of conqu'ring Caesar, who enwalles thee round Cag'd in thy holde, scarse maister of thy selfe, Late maister of so many nations. Yet, yet, which is of grief extreamest grief, Which is yet of mischiefe highest mischiefe, It's Cleopatra alas! alas, it's she, It's she augments the torment of thy paine, Betraies thy loue, thy life alas! betraies, Caesar to please, whose grace she seekes to gaine: With thought her Crowne to saue, and fortune make Onely thy foe which common ought haue beene. If her I alwaies lou'd, and the first flame Of her heart-killing loue shall burne me last: Iustly complaine I she disloyall is, Nor constant is, euen as I constant am, To comfort my mishap, despising me No more, then when the heauens fauour'd me. But ah! by nature women wau'ring are, Each moment changing and rechanging mindes. Vnwise, who blinde in them, thinkes loyaltie Euer to finde in beauties company.

Chorus.

The boyling tempest still Makes not Sea waters fome: Nor still the Northern blast Disquiets quiet streames: Nor who his chest to fill Sayles to the morning beames, On waues winde tosseth fast Still kepes his Ship from home. Nor Ioue still downe doth cast Inflam'd with bloudie ire On man, on tree, on hill, His darts of thundring fire: Nor still the heat doth last On face of parched plaine: Nor wrinkled colde doth still On frozen furrowes raigne. But still as long as we In this low world remaine, Mishapps our dayly mates Our liues do entertaine: And woes which beare no dates Still pearch vpon our heads, None go, but streight will be Some greater in their Steads. Nature made vs not free When first she made vs liue: When we began to be, To be began our woe: Which growing euermore As dying life dooth growe Do more and more vs greeue, And tire vs more and more. No stay in fading states, For more to height they retch, Their fellow miseries The more to height do stretch. They clinge euen to the crowne, And threatning furious wise From tirannizing pates Do often pull it downe. In vaine on waues vntride to shunne them go we should To Scythes and Massagetes Who neare the Pole reside: In vaine to boiling sandes Which Phaebus battry beates, For with vs still they would Cut seas and compasse landes. The darknes no more sure To ioyne with heauy night: The light which guildes the dayes To follow Titan pure: No more the shadow light The body to ensue: Then wretchednes alwaies Vs wretches to pursue. O blest who neuer breath'd, Or whome with pittie mou'de, Death from his cradle reau'de, And swadled in his graue: And blessed also he (As curse may blessing haue) Who low and liuing free No princes charge hath prou'de. By stealing sacred fire Prometheus then vnwise, Prouoking Gods to ire, The heape of ills did sturre, And sicknes pale and colde Our ende which onward spurre, To plague our hands too bolde To filch the wealth of Skies. In heauens hate since then Of ill with ill enchain'd We race of mortall men full fraught our breasts haue borne: And thousand thousand woes Our heau'nly soules now thorne, Which free before from those No! earthly passion pain'd. Warre and warres bitter cheare Now long time with vs staie, And feare of hated foe Still still encreaseth sore: Our harmes worse dayly growe, Lesse yesterdaye they were Then now, and will be more To morowe then to daye.

Act. 2.

Philostratus.

What horrible furie, what cruell rage, O AEgipt so extremely thee torments? Hast thou the Gods so angred by thy fault? Hast thou against them some such crime conceiu'd, That their engrained hand lift vp in threats They should desire in thy hard bloud to bathe? And that their burning wrath which nought can quench Should pittiles on vs still lighten downe? We are not hew'n out of the monst'rous masse Of Giantes those, which heauens wrack conspir'd: Ixions race, false prater of his loues: Nor yet of him who fained lightnings found: Nor cruell Tantalus, nor bloudie Atreus, Whose cursed banquet for Thyestes plague Made the beholding Sunne for horrour turne His backe, and backward from his course returne: And hastning his wing-footed horses race Plunge him in sea for shame to hide his face: While sulleine night vpon the wondring world For mid-daies light her starrie mantle cast, But what we be, what euer wickednes By vs is done, Alas! with what more plagues, More eager torments could the Gods declare To heauen and earth that vs they hatefull holde? With Souldiors, strangers, horrible in armes Our land is hidde, our people drown'd in teares. But terror here and horror, nought is seene: And present death prizing our life each hower. Hard at our ports and at our porches waites Our conquering foe: harts faile vs, hopes are dead: Our Queene laments: and this great Emperour Sometime (would now they did) whom worlds did feare, Abandoned, betraid, now mindes no more But from his euils by hast'ned death to passe. Come you poore people tir'de with ceasles plaints With teares and sighes make mournfull sacrifice On Isis altars: not our selues to saue, But soften Caesar and him piteous make To vs, his pray: that so his lenitie May change our death into captiuitie. Strange are the euils the fates on vs haue brought, O but alas! how farre more strange the cause! Loue, loue (alas, who euer would haue thought?) Hath lost this Realme inflamed with his fire. Loue, playing loue, which men say kindles not But in soft harts, hath ashes made our townes. And his sweet shafts, with whose shot none are kill'd, Which vlcer not, with deaths our lands haue fill'd, Such was the bloudie, murdring, hellish loue Possest thy hart faire false guest Priams Sonne, Fi'ring a brand which after made to burne The Troian towers by Graecians ruinate. By this loue, Priam, Hector, Troilus, Memnon, Deiphobus, Glaucus, thousands mo, Whome redd Scamanders armor clogged streames Roll'd into Seas, before their dates are dead. So plaguie he, so many tempests raiseth So murdring he, so many Cities raiseth, When insolent, blinde, lawles, orderles, With madd delights our sence he entertaines. All knowing Gods our wracks did vs foretell By signes in earth, by signes in starry Sphaeres: Which should haue mou'd vs, had not destinie With too strong hand warped our miserie. The Comets flaming through the scat'red clouds With fiery beames, most like vnbroaded haires: The fearefull dragon whistling at the bankes, And holie Apis ceaseles bellowing (As neuer erst) and shedding endles teares: Bloud raining downe from heau'n in vnknow'n showers: Our Gods darke faces ouercast with woe, And dead mens Ghosts appearing in the night. Yea euen this night while all the Cittie stoode Opprest with terror, horror, seruile feare, Deepe silence ouer all: the sounds were heard Of diuerse songs, and diuers instruments, Within the voide of aire: and howling noise, Such as madde Bacchus priests in Bacchus feasts On Nisa make: and (seem'd) the company, Our Cittie lost, went to the enemie. So we forsaken both of Gods and men, So are we in the mercy of our foes: And we hencefoorth obedient must become To lawes of them who haue vs ouercome.

Chorus.

Lament we our mishaps, Drowne we with teares our woe: For Lamentable happes Lamented easie growe: And much lesse torment bring Then when they first did spring. We want that wofull song, Wherwith wood-musiques Queene Doth ease her woes, among, fresh springtimes bushes greene, On pleasant branche alone Renewing auntient mone. We want that monefull sounde, That pratling Progne makes On fieldes of Thracian ground, Or streames of Thracian lakes: To empt her brest of paine For Itys by her slaine. Though Halcyons doo still, Bewailing Ceyx lot, The Seas with plainings fill Which his dead limmes haue got, Not euer other graue Then tombe of waues to haue: And though the birde in death That most Meander loues So swetely sighes his breath When death his fury proues, As almost softs his heart, And almost blunts his dart: Yet all the plaints of those, Nor all their tearfull larmes, Cannot content our woes, Nor serue to waile the harmes, In soule which we, poore we, To feele enforced be. Nor they of Phaebus bredd In teares can doo so well, They for their brother shedd, Who into Padus fell, Rash guide of chariot cleare Surueiour of the yeare. Nor she whom heau'nly powers To weping rocke did turne, Whose teares distill in showers, And shew she yet doth mourne. Where with his toppe to Skies Mount Sipylus doth rise. Nor weping drops which flowe From barke of wounded tree, That Myrrhas shame do showe With ours compar'd may be, To quench her louing fire Who durst embrace her sire. Nor all the howlings made On Cybels sacred hill By Eunukes of her trade, Who Atys, Atys still With doubled cries resound, Which Echo makes rebound. Our plaints no limits stay, Nor more then doo our woes: Both infinitely straie And neither measure knowes. In measure let them plaine: Who measur'd griefes sustaine.

Cleopatra. Eras. Charmion. Diomede.

Cleopatra.

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, o 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! o caitiue! o 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 Caesar may it thanke, Causing that Antony one army lost The other wholy did to Caesar 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.