VENTIDIUS. If we die well, our deaths will speak themselves
And need no living witness.

ANTONY. Thou hast loved me,
And fain I would reward thee. I must die;
Kill me, and take the merit of my death,
To make thee friends with Caesar.

VENTIDIUS. Thank your kindness.
You said I loved you; and in recompense,
You bid me turn a traitor: Did I think
You would have used me thus?--that I should die
With a hard thought of you?

ANTONY. Forgive me, Roman.
Since I have heard of Cleopatra's death,
My reason bears no rule upon my tongue,
But lets my thoughts break all at random out.
I've thought better; do not deny me twice.

VENTIDIUS. By Heaven I will not.
Let it not be to outlive you.

ANTONY. Kill me first,
And then die thou; for 'tis but just thou serve
Thy friend, before thyself.

VENTIDIUS. Give me your hand.
We soon shall meet again. Now, farewell, emperor!--
[Embrace.]
Methinks that word's too cold to be my last:
Since death sweeps all distinctions, farewell, friend!
That's all--
I will not make a business of a trifle;
And yet I cannot look on you, and kill you;
Pray turn your face.

ANTONY. I do: strike home, be sure.

VENTIDIUS. Home as my sword will reach.
[Kills himself.]

ANTONY. Oh, thou mistak'st;
That wound was not of thine; give it me back:
Thou robb'st me of my death.

VENTIDIUS. I do indeed;
But think 'tis the first time I e'er deceived you,
If that may plead my pardon.--And you, gods,
Forgive me, if you will; for I die perjured,
Rather than kill my friend.
[Dies.]

ANTONY. Farewell! Ever my leader, even in death!
My queen and thou have got the start of me,
And I'm the lag of honour.--Gone so soon?
Is Death no more? he used him carelessly,
With a familiar kindness: ere he knocked,
Ran to the door, and took him in his arms,
As who should say--You're welcome at all hours,
A friend need give no warning. Books had spoiled him;
For all the learned are cowards by profession.
'Tis not worth
My further thought; for death, for aught I know,
Is but to think no more. Here's to be satisfied.
[Falls on his sword.]
I've missed my heart. O unperforming hand!
Thou never couldst have erred in a worse time.
My fortune jades me to the last; and death,
Like a great man, takes state, and makes me wait
For my admittance.--
[Trampling