He brings you figs. Cleo. Let him come in. How poor an inftrument May do a noble deed! he brings me liberty. · Enter Guardfman, and Clown with a basket. Guards. This is the man. Cleo. Avoid and leave him. [Exit Guardfman. Haft thou the pretty worm of Nilus there, That kills and pains not? Clown. Truly I have him: but I would not be the party that fhould defire you to touch him, for his biting is immortal: thofe that do die of it, do feldom or never recover. Cleo. Remember'ft thou any that have dy'd on't? Clown. Very many, men and women too. I heard of one of them no longer than yesterday, a very honest woman, but something given to lie, as a woman fhould not do, but in the way of honefty. How fhe dy'd of the biting of it, what pain fhe felt! truly, fhe makes a very good report o' th' worm: but he that will believe 'half that they fay, fhall never be faved by all that they do: but this is moft fallible, the worm's an odd worm. Cleo. Get thee hence, farewel. Clown. I with you all joy of the worm. Cleo. Farewel. Clown. You must think this, look you, that the worm will do his kind. Cleo. Ay, ay, farewel. Clown. Look you, the worm is not to be trufted but in the keeping of wife people; for indeed there is no goodnefs in the worm. Cleo. Take no care, it fhall be heeded. Clown. Very good: give it nothing I pray you, for it is not worth the feeding. Cleo. Will it eat me? all that they fay, fhall never be faved by half Clown. ... old edit. Warb. emend. Clown. You must not think I am fo fimple, but I know the devil himfelf will not eat a woman: I know, that a woman is a difh for the Gods, if the devil dress her not. But truly, thefe fame whorefon devils do the Gods great harm in their women: for in every ten that they make, the devils mar five. Cleo. Well, get thee gone, farewel. Clown. Yes forfooth, I wish you joy o' th' worm. [Exit, SCENE V. Cleo. Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have To praife my noble act. I hear him mock I give to bafer life. So-have you done? [To Iras, who falls down. If thou and nature can fo gently part, The ftroke of death is as a lover's pinch, Which hurts, and is defir'd. Doft thou lye ftill? If thus thou vanifheft, thou tell'ft the world It is not worth leave-taking. [Iras dies. Char. Diffolve, thick cloud, and rain, that I may fay, The Gods themselves do weep! Cleo. This proves me bafe If the first meet the curled Antony, He'll make demand of her, and spend that kifs With thy fharp teeth this knot intrinficate [To the Serpent, applying it to her breast. Of life at once untie: poor venomous fool, That That I might hear thee call great Cafar afs, Char. Oh eastern star! Cleo. Peace, peace! Doft thou not fee my baby at my breast, That fucks the nurse asleep? Char. O break! O break! Cleo. As fweet as balm, as foft as air, as gentle. O Antony!-nay, I will take thee too. What should I ftay [Applying another Afp to her arm. Char. In this wild world? fo fare thee well: Of eyes again fo royal! your crown's awry, Enter the Guards rushing in. 1 Guard. Where is the Queen? Char. Speak foftly, wake her not. [Dies. 1 Guard. Cafar hath fent- [Charmian applies the Afp. Char. Too flow a meffenger. Oh come, apace, difpatch, I partly feel thee. 1 Guard. Approach, ho! all's not well: Cæfar's beguil'd. 2 Guard. There's Dolabella fent from Cæfar; call him. 1 Guard. What work is here, Charmian? is this well Char. It is well done, and fitting for a Princess [done? Defcended of fo many royal Kings. Ah, foldiers! Enter Dolabella. Dol. How goes it here? 2 Guard. All dead! Dol. Cæfar, thy thoughts [Charmian dies. Touch their effects in this; thy felf art coming So fought'ft to hinder. Enter Cæfar and Attendants. All. Make way there, way for Cafar. Dol. Oh, Sir, you are too fure an augurer; Bb That That you did fear, is done, Caf. Braveft at laft, She levell'd at our purpofe, and being royal Dol. Who was laft with them? 1 Guard. A fimple countryman, that brought her figs: This was his basket. Caf. Poifon'd then! 1 Guard. Oh Cæfar! This Charmian liv'd but now, fhe stood and fpake: On her dead miftrefs, tremblingly fhe ftood, Caf. Oh noble weakness! If they had fwallow'd poifon, 'twould appear In her ftrong toil of grace. Dol. Here on her breaft There is a vent of blood, and fomething blown: 1 Guard. This is an afpick's trail, And these fig-leaves have flime upon them, fuch That fo fhe died; for her phyfician tells me Brought them to be lamented. Our army fhall, [Exeunt omnes. TITUS |