Enter Cleopatra, Charmion, and Iras.

Cleo. Where is my lord? where is he?

Char. There he lies,
And dead Ventidius by him.

Cleo. My fears were prophets; I am come too late.
O that accursed Alexas!

[Runs to him.

Ant. Art thou living?
Or am I dead before I knew, and thou
The first kind ghost that meets me?

Cleo. Help me seat him.
Send quickly, send for help!

[They place him in a chair.

Ant. I am answered.
We live both. Sit thee down, my Cleopatra:
I’ll make the most I can of life, to stay
A moment more with thee.

Cleo. How is it with you?

Ant. ’Tis as with a man
Removing in a hurry; all packed up,
But one dear jewel that his haste forgot;
And he, for that, returns upon the spur:
So I come back for thee.

Cleo. Too long, ye heavens, you have been cruel to me
Now show your mended faith, and give me back
His fleeting life!

Ant. It will not be, my love;
I keep my soul by force.
Say but, thou art not false.

Cleo. ’Tis now too late
To say I’m true: I’ll prove it, and die with you.
Unknown to me, Alexas feigned my death:
Which, when I knew, I hasted to prevent
This fatal conseqence. My fleet betrayed
Both you and me.

Ant. And Dolabella—

Cleo. Scarce
Esteemed before he loved; but hated now.

Ant. Enough: my life’s not long enough for more.
Thou say’st, thou wilt come after: I believe thee;
For I can now believe whate’er thou sayest,
That we may part more kindly.

Cleo. I will come:
Doubt not, my life, I’ll come, and quickly too:
Cæsar shall triumph o’er no part of thee.

Ant. But grieve not, while thou stayest,
My last disastrous times:
Think we have had a clear and glorious day
And Heaven did kindly to delay the storm,
Just till our close of evening. Ten years’ love,
And not a moment lost, but all improved
To the utmost joys,—what ages have we lived?
And now to die each other’s; and, so dying,
While hand in hand we walk in groves below,
Whole troops of lovers’ ghosts shall flock about us,
And all the train be ours.

Cleo. Your words are like the notes of dying swans,
Too sweet to last. Were there so many hours
For your unkindness, and not one for love?

Ant. No, not a minute.—This one kiss—more worth
Than all I leave to Cæsar.

Cleo. O tell me so again,
And take ten thousand kisses for that word.
My lord, my lord! speak, if you yet have being;
Sign to me, if you cannot speak; or cast
One look! Do anything that shows you live.

Iras. He’s gone too far to hear you;
And this you see, a lump of senseless clay,
The leavings of a soul.