h rise.
Nor weping drops which flowe
From barke of wounded tree,
That _Myrrhas_ shame do showe
With ours compar'd may be,
To quench her louing fire
Who durst embrace her sire.
Nor all the howlings made
On _Cybels_ sacred hill
By Eunukes of her trade,
Who _Atys_, _Atys_ still
With doubled cries resound,_
_Which _Echo_ makes rebound.
Our plaints no limits stay,
Nor more then doo our woes:
Both infinitely straie
And neither measure knowes.
_In measure let them plaine:_
_Who measur'd griefes sustaine._

_Cleopatra._ _Eras._ _Charmion._ _Diomede._

_Cleopatra._

That I haue thee betraid, deare _Antonie_,
My life, my soule, my Sunne? I had such thought?
That I haue thee betraide my Lord, my King?
That I would breake my vowed faith to thee?
Leaue thee? deceiue thee? yeelde thee to the rage
Of mightie foe? I euer had that hart?
Rather sharpe lightning lighten on my head:
Rather may I to deepest mischiefe fall:
Rather the opened earth deuower me:
Rather fierce _Tigers_ feed them on my flesh:
Rather, o rather let our _Nilus_ send,
To swallow me quicke, some weeping _Crocodile_.
And didst thou then suppose my royall hart
Had hatcht, thee to ensnare, a faithles loue?
And changing minde, as Fortune changed cheare,
I would weake thee, to winne the stronger, loose?
O wretch! o caitiue! o too cruell happe!
And did not I sufficient losse sustaine
Loosing my Realme, loosing my liberty,
My tender of-spring, and the ioyfull light
Of beamy Sunne, and yet, yet loosing more
Thee _Antony_ my care, if I loose not
What yet remain'd? thy loue alas! thy loue,
More deare then Scepter, children, freedome, light.
So ready I to row in _Charons_ barge,
Shall leese the ioy of dying in thy loue:
So the sole comfort of my miserie
To haue one tombe with thee is me bereft.
So I in shady plaines shall plaine alone,
Not (as I hop'd) companion of thy mone,
O height of griefe! _Eras_ why with continuall cries
Your griefull harmes doo you exasperate?
Torment your selfe with murthering complaints?
Straine your weake breast so oft, so vehemently?
Water with teares this faire alablaster?
With sorrowes sting so many beauties wound?
Come of so many Kings want you the hart
Brauely, stoutly, this tempest to resist?

_Cl._ My eu'lls are wholy vsupportable,
No humain force can