Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer.
Oth. Look in upon me, then, and speak to me,
Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee.
Re-enter GRATIANO.

Gra. What is the matter!
Oth.

Behold! I have a weapon;
A better never did itself sustain
Upon a soldier's thigh: I have seen the day,
That, with this little arm, and this good sword,
I have made my way through more impediments
Than twenty times your stop.-But, O vain boast!
Who can control his fate? 'tis not so now.-
Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon'd;
Here is my journey's end, here is my butt,
And very sea-mark of my utmost sail.
Do you go back dismay'd? 'tis a lost fear;
Man but a rush against Othello's breast,
And he retires.-Where should Othello
go?
?-
Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starr'd wench!
Pale as thy smock! when we shall meet at compt,
This look of thine will, hurl my soul from heaven,
And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl;
Even like thy chastity.-O, cursed slave!—
Whip me, ye devils,

From the possession of this heavenly sight!
Blow me about in winds! roast me in sulphur!
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire!
O Desdemona! Desdemona! dead? O! O!

Enter LODOVICO and CASSIO.

Lod. Where is this rash and most unfortunate man?
Oth. That's he, that was Othello: here I am.
Lod. Where is that viper? bring the villain forth.
Enter MONTANO with IAGO, bound, and Officers.
Oth. I look down towards his feet;-but that's a fable:
If that thou be'st a devil, I cannot kill thee.
[OTHELLO wounds IAGO.
Lod. Wrench his sword from him.
Iago.
I bleed, sir; but not kill'd.
Oth. I am not sorry neither: I'd have thee live;
For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die.

Lod. O thou Othello! that wert once so good,
Fall'n in the practice of a damned slave,
What shall be said to thee?

Oth.
Why, any thing:
An honourable murderer, if you will;
For nought I did in hate, but all in honour.
Lod. This wretch hath part confess'd his villainy.
Did you and he consent in Cassio's death?

Oth. Ay.

Cas. Dear general, I never gave you cause. Oth. I do believe it, and I ask you pardon.

Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil,

Why he hath thus ensnar'd my soul and body?

I found it in my chamber; And he himself confess'd, but even now, That there he dropp'd it, for a special purpose, Which wrought to his desire.

Oth.

O fool! fool! fool!
Cas. There is, besides, in Roderigo's letter,
How he upbraids Iago, that he made him
Brave me upon the watch; whereon it came
That I was cast: and even but now he spake,
After long seeming dead,―Iago hurt him,
Iago set him on.

Lod. You must forsake this room, and go with us:
Your power and your command is taken off,
And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave,

If there be any cunning cruelty,

That can torment him much, and hold him long,
It shall be his. You shall close prisoner rest,
Till that the nature of your fault be known
To the Venetian state.-Come; bring them away.
Oth. Soft you; a word or two, before you go.

I have done the state some service, and they know it;
No more of that.-I pray you, in your letters,
When you shall these unlucky deeds relate,
Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate,
Nor set down aught in malice: then, must you speak
Of one that lov'd, not wisely, but too well:
Of one not easily jealous, but, being wrought,
Perplex'd in the extreme; of one, whose hand,
Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away
Richer than all his tribe; of one, whose subdued eyes,
Albeit unused to the melting mood,
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees
Their medicinal gum. Set you down this;
And say, besides, that in Aleppo once,
When a malignant and a turban'd Turk
Beat a Venetian, and traduc'd the state,
I took by the throat the circumcised dog,
And smote him—thus.

[Stabs himself.

Lod. O bloody period! Gra. All that's spoke is marr'd. Oth. I kiss'd thee, ere I kill'd thee:-no way but this, Killing myself, to die upon a kiss. [Dies on the Bed. Cas. This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon, For he was great of heart. Lod.

O Spartan dog! More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea,

[TO IAGO.

This is thy work: the object poisons sight;
Let it be hid.-Gratiano, keep the house,
And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor,
For they succeed on you. To you, lord governor,
Remains the censure of this hellish villain;
The time, the place, the torture:-O, enforce it!
Myself will straight aboard, and to the state
This heavy act with heavy heart relate.

[Exeunt.

Let's not confound the time with conference harsh:
There's not a minute of our lives should stretch
Without some pleasure now.
Cleo. Hear the ambassadors.
Ant.

What sport to-night?

Fie, wrangling queen! Whom every thing becomes, to chide, to laugh, To weep; whose every passion fitly strives To make itself, in thee, fair and admir'd. No messenger; but thine, and all alone, To-night we'll wander through the streets, and note The qualities of people. Come, my queen; Last night you did desire it.-Speak not to us.

[Exeunt ANT. and CLEOP. with their Train. Dem. Is Cæsar with Antonius priz'd so slight? Phi. Sir, sometimes, when he is not Antony, He comes too short of that great property Which still should go with Antony. Dem. I am full sorry, That he approves the common liar, who Thus speaks of him at Rome; but I will hope Of better deeds to-morrow. Rest you happy. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The Same. Another Room. Enter CHARMIAN, IRAS, ALEXAS, and a Soothsayer. Char. Lord Alexas, most sweet Alexas, most any thing Alexas, almost most absolute Alexas, where's the soothsayer that you praised so to the queen? O! that I knew this husband, which, you say, must charge his horns with garlands!

Alex. Soothsayer! Sooth. Your will?

Char. Pray, then, foresee me one.

Sooth. You shall be yet far fairer than you are.
Char. He means, in flesh.

Iras. No, you shall paint when you are old.
Char. Wrinkles forbid!

Alex. Vex not his prescience; be attentive.
Char. Hush!

Sooth. You shall be more beloving, than belov'd.
Char. I had rather heat my liver with drinking.
Alex. Nay, hear him.

Char. Good now, some excellent fortune. Let me be married to three kings in a forenoon, and widow them all let me have a child at fifty, to whom Herod of Jewry may do homage: find me to marry me with Octavius Cæsar, and companion me with my mistress. Sooth. You shall outlive the lady whom you serve. Char. O excellent! I love long life better than figs. Sooth. You have seen, and proved a fairer former fortune,

Than that which is to approach.

Char. Then, belike, my children shall have no names. Pr'ythee, how many boys and wenches must I have?

Sooth. If every of your wishes had a womb, And fruitful every wish, a million.

Char. Out, fool! I forgive thee for a witch.

Alex. We'll know all our fortunes. Eno. Mine, and most of our fortunes, to-night, shall be, drunk to bed. Iras. There's a palm presages chastity, if nothing

else.

Char. Even as the o'erflowing Nilus presageth famine.

Iras. Go, you wild bedfellow, you cannot soothsay. Char. Nay, if an oily palm be not a fruitful prognostication, I cannot scratch mine ear.-Pr'ythee, tell her but a worky-day fortune.

Sooth. Your fortunes are alike.

Iras. But how? but how? give me particulars.
Sooth. I have said.

Iras. Am I not an inch of fortune better than she? Char. Well, if you were but an inch of fortune better than I, where would you choose it?

Iras. Not in my husband's nose.

Char. Our worser thoughts heavens mend! Alexas, -come, his fortune, his fortune.-O! let him marry a woman that cannot go, sweet Isis, I beseech thee: and let her die too, and give him a worse; and let worse follow worse, till the worst of all follow him laughing to his grave, fifty-fold a cuckold. Good Isis, hear me this prayer, though thou deny me a matter of more weight, good Isis, I beseech thee!

Iras. Amen. Dear goddess, hear that prayer of the people; for, as it is a heart-breaking to see a handsome man loose-wived, so it is a deadly sorrow to behold a foul knave uncuckolded: therefore, dear Isis, keep decorum, and fortune him accordingly! Char. Amen.

Alex. Lo, now! if it lay in their hands to make me a cuckold, they would make themselves whores, but they'd do't.

Eno. Hush! here comes Antony.
Char.

Cleo. Was he not here?

Char. No, madam.

Not he, the queen.

Cleo. He was dispos'd to mirth; but on the sudden, A Roman thought hath struck him.-Enobarbus !— Eno. Madam.

Cleo. Seek him, and bring him hither. Where's
Alexas?

Alex. Here, at your service.-My lord approaches.
Enter ANTONY, with a Messenger and Attendants.
Cleo. We will not look upon him: go with us.
[Exeunt CLEOPATRA, ENOBARBUS, ALEXAS, IRAS,
CHARMIAN, Soothsayer, and Attendants.
Mess. Fulvia, thy wife, first came into the field.
Ant. Against my brother Lucius?

Mess. Ay:

But soon that war had end, and the time's state
Made friends of them, jointing their force 'gainst Cæsar;
Whose better issue in the war, from Italy
Upon the first encounter drave them.
Ant.
Well, what worst?
Mess. The nature of bad news infects the teller.
Ant. When it concerns the fool, or coward.-On :
Things, that are past, are done, with me.-"Tis thus;
Who tells me true, though in his tale lie death,
I hear him as he flatter'd.
Mess.

Labienus

your wishes.

Char. Nay, come; tell Iras hers.

His conquering banner shook from Syria To Lydia, and to Ionia; whilst

Ant. Antony, thou would'st say,Mess. O, my lord!

tongue;

Name Cleopatra as she is call'd in Rome;

Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase, and taunt my faults
With such full licence, as both truth and malice
Have power to utter. O! then we bring forth weeds,
When our quick winds lie still; and our ills told us,
Is as our earing. Fare thee well awhile.
Mess. At your noble pleasure.

[Exit.

Ant. From Sicyon now the news? Speak there. 1 Att. The man from Sicyon !-Is there such an one? 2 Att. He stays upon your will. Ant. Let him appear. These strong Egyptian fetters I must break, Enter another Messenger.

Or lose myself in dotage.-What are you?
2 Mess. Fulvia thy wife is dead.
Ant.

Where died she?

2 Mess. In Sicyon :
Her length of sickness, with what else more serious
Importeth thee to know, this bears. [Giving a Letter.
Ant.
Forbear me.-
[Exit Messenger.
There's a great spirit gone. Thus did I desire it:
What our contempts do often hurl from us,
We wish it ours again; the present pleasure,
By repetition souring, does become

The opposite of itself: she's good, being gone;
The hand would pluck her back, that shov'd her on.
I must from this enchanting queen break off;
Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know,
My idleness doth hatch.-How now! Enobarbus!
Enter ENOBARBUS.

Eno. What's your pleasure, sir?

Ant. I must with haste from hence.

Eno. Why, then, we kill all our women.

We see

how mortal an unkindness is to them: if they suffer our departure, death's the word.

Ant. I must be gone.

Eno. Under a compelling occasion, let women die : it were pity to cast them away for nothing; though, between them and a great cause, they should be esteemed nothing. Cleopatra, catching but the least noise of this, dies instantly: I have seen her die twenty times upon far poorer moment. I do think, there is mettle in death, which commits some loving act upon her, she hath such a celerity in dying.

Ant. She is cunning past man's thought.

Eno. Alack, sir! no; her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love. We cannot call her winds and waters, sighs and tears; they are greater storms and tempests than almanacs can report: this cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a shower of rain as well as Jove.

Ant. Would I had never seen her!

Eno. O, sir! you had then left unseen a wonderful piece of work, which not to have been blessed withal would have discredited your travel.

Ant. Fulvia is dead.

Eno. Sir?

Ant. Fulvia is dead. Eno. Fulvia!

Ant. Dead.

Eno. Why, sir, give the gods a thankful sacrifice. When it pleaseth their deities to take the wife of a man from him, it shows to man the tailors of the earth: comforting therein, that when old robes are worn out, there are members to make new. If there were no

coat; and, indeed, the tears live in an onion, that should water this sorrow.

Ant. The business she hath broached in the state Cannot endure my absence.

Eno. And the business you have broached here cannot be without you; especially that of Cleopatra's, which wholly depends on your abode.

Ant. No more light answers. Let our officers Have notice what we purpose. I shall break The cause of our expedience to the queen, And get her leave to part: for not alone The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches, Do strongly speak to us, but the letters, too, Of many our contriving friends in Rome Petition us at home. Sextus Pompeius Hath given the dare to Cæsar, and commands The empire of the sea: our slippery people (Whose love is never link'd to the deserver, Till his deserts are past) begin to throw Pompey the great, and all his dignities, Upon his son who, high in name and power, Higher than both in blood and life, stands up For the main soldier; whose quality, going on, The sides o' the world may danger. Much is breeding, Which, like the courser's hair, hath yet but life, And not a serpent's poison. Say, our pleasure, To such whose place is under us, requires Our quick remove from hence. Eno.

I shall do it. SCENE III.

[Exeunt.

Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAs, and ALEXAS. Cleo. Where is he?

Char.
I did not see him since.
Cleo. See where he is, who's with him, what he does:
I did not send you. If you find him sad,
Say, I am dancing; if in mirth, report
That I am sudden sick : quick, and return. [Exit ALEX.
Char. Madam, methinks, if you did love him dearly,
You do not hold the method to enforce
The like from him.

Cleo.
What should I do, I do not?
Char. In each thing give him way, cross him in
nothing.

Cleo. Thou teachest, like a fool, the way to lose him.
Char. Tempt him not so too far; I wish, forbear:
In time we hate that which we often fear.
Enter ANTONY.

Cleo. Nay, pray you, seek no colour for your going, But bid farewell, and go: when you sued staying, Then was the time for words; no going then: Eternity was in our lips, and eyes;

Bliss in our brows bent; none our parts so poor,
But was a race of heaven: they are so still,
Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world,
Art turn'd the greatest liar.

How now,

Ant.
lady!
Cleo. I would, I had thy inches; thou should'st know,
There were a heart in Egypt.

Ant.
Hear me, queen.
The strong necessity of time commands
Our services a while, but my full heart
Remains in use with you. Our Italy
Shines o'er with civil swords: Sextus Pompeius
Makes his approaches to the port of Rome:
Equality of two domestic powers

Breeds scrupulous faction. The hated, grown to strength,
Are newly grown to love: the condemn'd Pompey,
Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace
Into the hearts of such as have not thriv'd
Upon the present state, whose numbers threaten;
And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge
By any desperate change. My more particular,
And that which most with you should safe my going,
Is Fulvia's death.

Cleo. Though age from folly could not give me freedom,

It does from childishness.-Can Fulvia die?
Ant. She's dead, my queen.

Look here, and, at thy sovereign leisure, read
The garboils she awak'd; at the last, best,
See, when, and where she died.

Cleo.
O, most false love!
Where be the sacred vials thou should'st fill
With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see,
In Fulvia's death, how mine receiv'd shall be.
Ant. Quarrel no more, but be prepar'd to know
The purposes I bear; which are, or cease,
As you shall give the advice: by the fire
That quickens Nilus' slime, I go from hence,
Thy soldier, servant; making peace, or war,
As thou affect'st.

I pr'ythee, turn aside, and weep for her;
Then bid adieu to me, and say, the tears
Belong to Egypt: good now, play one scene
Of excellent dissembling; and let it look
Like perfect honour.
Ant.
You'll heat my blood: no more.
Cleo. You can do better yet, but this is meetly.
Ant. Now, by my sword,-

Cleo.
And target. Still he mends;
But this is not the best. Look, pr'ythee, Charmian,
How this Herculean Roman does become
The carriage of his chafe.

Ant. I'll leave you, lady. Cleo.

Courteous lord, one word.
Sir, you and I must part,-but that's not it:
Sir, you and I have lov'd,-but there's not it;
That you know well: something it is I would,—
O! my oblivion is a very Antony,
And I am all forgotten.

Ant.
But that your royalty
Holds idleness your subject, I should take you
For idleness itself.

Cleo.

'Tis sweating labour
To bear such idleness so near the heart,
As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me
Since my becomings kill me, when they do not
Eye well to you: your honour calls you hence;
Therefore, be deaf to my unpitied folly,
And all the gods go with you! upon your sword
Sit laurel'd victory, and smooth success
Be strew'd before your feet!
Ant.

Let us go. Come;
Our separation so abides, and flies,
That thou, residing here, go'st yet with me,
And I, hence fleeting, here remain with thee.
Away!
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.-Rome. An Apartment in CÆSAR'S

House.

Enter OCTAVIUS CESAR, LEPIDUS, and Attendants.
Cæs. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth know,
It is not Cæsar's natural vice to hate
Our great competitor. From Alexandria
This is the news: he fishes, drinks, and wastes
The lamps of night in revel; is not more manlike
Than Cleopatra, nor the queen of Ptolemy,
More womanly than he hardly gave audience, or
Vouchsaf'd to think he had partners: you shall find
there

A man, who is the abstract of all faults
That all men follow.

Lep.

I must not think, there are
Evils enow to darken all his goodness:
His faults, in him, seem as the spots of heaven,
More fiery by night's blackness; hereditary,
Rather than purchas'd; what he cannot change,
Than what he chooses.

Cæs. You are too indulgent. Let us grant, it is not Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy,

To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit

And keep the turn of tippling with a slave;

To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet
With knaves that smell of sweat: say, this becomes him,
(As his composure must be rare indeed,

Whom these things cannot blemish) yet must Antony
No way excuse his foils, when we do bear
So great weight in his lightness. If he fill'd
His vacancy with his voluptuousness,

Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones,
Fall on him for't; but, to confound such time,
That drums him from his sport, and speaks as loud
As his own state, and ours,-'tis to be chid
As we rate boys; who, being mature in knowledge,
Pawn their experience to their present pleasure,
And so rebel to judgment.

Enter a Messenger.

Lep. Here's more news. Mess. Thy biddings have been done; and every hour, Most noble Cæsar, shalt thou have report How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea; And it appears, he is belov'd of those

That only have fear'd Cæsar: to the fleets