Dost thou not see my Baby at my breast,
That suckes the Nurse asleepe

   Char. O breake! O breake!
  Cleo. As sweet as Balme, as soft as Ayre, as gentle.
O Anthony! Nay I will take thee too.
What should I stay-

Dyes.

  Char. In this wilde World? So fare thee well:
Now boast thee Death, in thy possession lyes
A Lasse vnparalell'd. Downie Windowes cloze,
And golden Phoebus, neuer be beheld
Of eyes againe so Royall: your Crownes away,
Ile mend it, and then play-
Enter the Guard rustling in; and Dolabella.

  1.Guard. Where's the Queene?
  Char. Speake softly, wake her not

   1 Caesar hath sent
  Char. Too slow a Messenger.
Oh come apace, dispatch, I partly feele thee

   1 Approach hoa,
All's not well: Caesar's beguild

   2 There's Dolabella sent from Caesar: call him

   1 What worke is heere Charmian?
Is this well done?
  Char. It is well done, and fitting for a Princesse
Descended of so many Royall Kings.
Ah Souldier.

Charmian dyes.

Enter Dolabella.

  Dol. How goes it heere?
  2.Guard. All dead

   Dol. Caesar, thy thoughts
Touch their effects in this: Thy selfe art comming
To see perform'd the dreaded Act which thou
So sought'st to hinder.
Enter Caesar and all his Traine, marching.

  All. A way there, a way for Caesar

   Dol. Oh sir, you are too sure an Augurer:
That you did feare, is done

   Caesar. Brauest at the last,
She leuell'd at our purposes, and being Royall
Tooke her owne way: the manner of their deaths,
I do not see them bleede

   Dol. Who was last with them?
  1.Guard. A simple Countryman, that broght hir Figs:
This was his Basket

   Caesar. Poyson'd then

   1.Guard. Oh Caesar:
This Charmian liu'd but now, she stood and spake:
I found her trimming vp the Diadem;
On her dead Mistris tremblingly she stood,
And on the sodaine dropt

   Caesar. Oh Noble weakenesse:
If they had swallow'd poyson, 'twould appeare
By externall swelling: but she lookes like sleepe,
As she would catch another Anthony
In her strong toyle of Grace

   Dol. Heere on her brest,
There is a vent of Bloud, and something blowne,
The like is on her Arme

   1.Guard. This is an Aspickes traile,
And these Figge-leaues haue slime vpon them, such
As th' Aspicke leaues vpon the Caues of Nyle

   Caesar. Most probable
That so she dyed: for her Physitian tels mee
She hath pursu'de Conclusions infinite
Of easie wayes to dye. Take vp her bed,
And beare her Women from the Monument,
She shall be buried by her Anthony.
No Graue vpon the earth shall clip in it
A payre so famous: high euents as these
Strike those that make them: and their Story is
No lesse in pitty, then his Glory which
Brought them to be lamented. Our Army shall
In solemne shew, attend this Funerall,
And then to Rome. Come Dolabella, see
High Order, in this great Solemnity.

Exeunt. omnes

FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF Anthonie, and Cleopatra.


