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O Charmian, I will never go from hence.
Oh, Charmian, I will never leave this place.
Be comforted, dear madam.
Don’t worry, dear lady.
No, I will not: All strange and terrible events are welcome, But comforts we despise; our size of sorrow, Proportion’d to our cause, must be as great As that which makes it.
No, I won’t: All strange and frightening things are welcome, But comforts we reject; the size of our sorrow, Measured by the cause, must be as great As the cause itself.
How now! is he dead?
What’s happening! Is he dead?
His death’s upon him, but not dead. Look out o’ the other side your monument; His guard have brought him thither.
He’s dying, but not dead. Look at the other side of your monument; His guards have brought him there.
O sun, Burn the great sphere thou movest in! darkling stand The varying shore o’ the world. O Antony, Antony, Antony! Help, Charmian, help, Iras, help; Help, friends below; let’s draw him hither.
Oh sun, Burn the great world you move through! Let the dark world stand still As the changing shore of the earth. Oh Antony, Antony, Antony! Help, Charmian, help, Iras, help; Help, friends below; let’s bring him here.
Peace! Not Caesar’s valour hath o’erthrown Antony, But Antony’s hath triumph’d on itself.
Quiet! It wasn’t Caesar’s bravery that defeated Antony, But Antony’s own actions that brought him down.
So it should be, that none but Antony Should conquer Antony; but woe ’tis so!
It should be that only Antony Should be able to defeat Antony; but alas, it’s true!
I am dying, Egypt, dying; only I here importune death awhile, until Of many thousand kisses the poor last I lay up thy lips.
I’m dying, Egypt, dying; only I’m holding off death for a moment, until With a thousand kisses, the last poor one I place on your lips.
I dare not, dear,-- Dear my lord, pardon,--I dare not, Lest I be taken: not the imperious show Of the full-fortuned Caesar ever shall Be brooch’d with me; if knife, drugs, serpents, have Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe: Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes And still conclusion, shall acquire no honour Demuring upon me. But come, come, Antony,-- Help me, my women,--we must draw thee up: Assist, good friends.
I can’t, my dear,-- My dear lord, forgive me,--I can’t, For fear of being caught: not even the powerful show Of the fortunate Caesar will ever be Connected with me; if knives, poison, or snakes, Have any edge, sting, or power, I’m safe: Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes And calm attitude, will gain no honour By comparing herself to me. But come, come, Antony,-- Help me, my women,--we must lift you up: Assist, good friends.
O, quick, or I am gone.
Hurry, or I’m gone.
Here’s sport indeed! How heavy weighs my lord! Our strength is all gone into heaviness, That makes the weight: had I great Juno’s power, The strong-wing’d Mercury should fetch thee up, And set thee by Jove’s side. Yet come a little,-- Wishes were ever fools,--O, come, come, come;
This is truly strange! How heavy my lord weighs! Our strength has all turned into heaviness, That’s what makes the weight: if I had Juno’s power, The strong-winged Mercury would lift you up, And place you by Jove’s side. Yet come a little,-- Wishes are always foolish,--Oh, come, come, come;
And welcome, welcome! die where thou hast lived: Quicken with kissing: had my lips that power, Thus would I wear them out.
And welcome, welcome! Die where you lived: Revive with kisses: if my lips had that power, I would wear them out.
A heavy sight!
A sad sight!
I am dying, Egypt, dying: Give me some wine, and let me speak a little.
I’m dying, Egypt, dying: Give me some wine, and let me say a few words.
No, let me speak; and let me rail so high, That the false housewife Fortune break her wheel, Provoked by my offence.
No, let me speak; and let me shout so loud, That the fake goddess Fortune will break her wheel, Mad because of what I’ve done.
One word, sweet queen: Of Caesar seek your honour, with your safety. O!
One word, dear queen: For your own safety, seek out Caesar for your honor. Oh!
They do not go together.
Those things don’t go together.
Gentle, hear me: None about Caesar trust but Proculeius.
Please, listen to me: Don’t trust anyone around Caesar except Proculeius.
My resolution and my hands I’ll trust; None about Caesar.
I’ll trust my own judgment and my hands; No one around Caesar.
The miserable change now at my end Lament nor sorrow at; but please your thoughts In feeding them with those my former fortunes Wherein I lived, the greatest prince o’ the world, The noblest; and do now not basely die, Not cowardly put off my helmet to My countryman,--a Roman by a Roman Valiantly vanquish’d. Now my spirit is going; I can no more.
Don’t mourn or feel sorrow for this miserable change at the end of my life; But take comfort in remembering my past greatness, When I was the most powerful ruler in the world, The noblest; and now I don’t die dishonorably, I don’t cowardly remove my helmet to A fellow Roman--a Roman defeated by another Roman, Brave and honorably defeated. Now my spirit is leaving; I can’t go on.
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,
Noblest of men, will you die? Don’t you care about me? Should I stay In this empty world, which without you is No better than a pigsty? Oh, look, my women,
The crown o’ the earth doth melt. My lord! O, wither’d 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.
The ruler of the earth is gone. My lord! Oh, the victor’s crown has withered, The soldier’s standard has fallen: young boys and girls Are now equal to men; the balance has shifted, And there is nothing left to admire Under the watching moon.
O, quietness, lady!
Oh, calm down, lady!
She is dead too, our sovereign.
She’s dead too, our queen.
Lady!
Lady!
Madam!
Madam!
O madam, madam, madam!
Oh madam, madam, madam!
Royal Egypt, Empress!
Royal Egypt, Empress!
Peace, peace, Iras!
Quiet, quiet, Iras!
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 sceptre at the injurious gods; To tell them that this world did equal theirs Till they had stol’n our jewel. All’s but naught; Patience is scottish, and impatience does Become a dog that’s mad: then is it sin To rush into the secret house of death, Ere 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, Let’s do it 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.
No more, I’m just a woman, controlled By the same simple feelings as the girl who milks And does the lowest work. It would be right for me To throw my scepter at the cruel gods; To tell them that this world was once as great as theirs Until they stole our treasure. Everything is worthless; Patience is weak, and impatience is Like a mad dog: is it a sin To rush into death’s arms, Before death even dares to come to us? How are you, women? What, what! cheer up! Why, what’s wrong, Charmian? My noble girls! Ah, women, women, look, Our light is gone, it’s out! Good people, be brave: We’ll bury him, and then, whatever’s noble, Whatever’s great, Let’s do it the proud Roman way, And make death feel honored to take us. Come on, let’s go: This great spirit now is cold: Ah, women, women! come; we have no help Except our resolve, and the quickest end.