e,
Disdain'd my freends, and of the statelye Rome
Despoilde the Empire of her best attire,
Contemn'd that power that made me so much fear'd,
A slaue become vnto her feeble face.
O cruell, traitres, woman most vnkinde,
Thou dost, forsworne, my loue and life betraie:
And giu'st me vp to ragefull enemie,
Which soone (o foole!) will plague thy periurye.
Yelded _Pelusium_ on this Countries shore,
Yelded thou hast my Shippes and men of warre,
That nought remaines (so destitute am I)
But these same armes which on my back I weare.
Thou should'st haue had them too, and me vnarm'de
Yeelded to _Caesar_ naked of defence.
Which while I beare let _Caesar_ neuer thinke
Triumph of me shall his proud chariot grace
Not think with me his glory to adorne,
On me aliue to vse his victorie.
Thou only _Cleopatra_ triumph hast,
Thou only hast my freedome seruile made,
Thou only hast me vanquisht: not by force
(For forste I cannot be) but by sweete baites
Of thy eyes graces, which did gaine so fast
vpon my libertie, that nought remain'd.
None els hencefoorth, but thou my dearest Queene,
Shall glorie in commaunding _Antonie_.
Haue _Caesar_ fortune and the Gods his freends,
To him haue Ioue and fatall sisters giuen
The Scepter of the earth: he neuer shall
Subiect my life to his obedience.
But when that Death, my glad refuge, shall haue
Bounded the course of my vnstedfast life,
And frosen corps vnder a marble colde
Within tombes bosome widdowe of my soule:
Then at his will let him it subiect make:
Then what he will let _Caesar_ doo with me:
Make me limme after limme be rent: make me
My buriall take in sides of _Thracian_ wolfe.
Poore _Antonie_! alas what was the day,
The daies of losse that gained thee thy loue!
Wretch _Antony_! since then _Maegaera_ pale
With Snakie haires enchain'd thy miserie.
The fire thee burnt was neuer _Cupids_ fire
(For Cupid beares not such a mortall brand)
It was some furies torch, _Orestes_ torche,
which sometimes burnt his mother-murdering soule
(When wandring madde, rage boiling in his bloud,
He fled his fault which folow'd as he fled)
kindled within his bones by shadow pale
Of mother slaine return'd from Stygian lake.
_Antony_, poore _Antony_! since that daie
Thy olde good hap did farre from thee retire.
Thy vertue dead: thy glory made aliue
So ofte by martiall deeds is gone in smoke