Then sent him worde, she was no more aliue,
But lay inclosed dead within hir Tombe.
This he beleeu’d; and fell to sigh and grone,
And crost his armes, then thus began to mone.
Cæs. Poore hopeles man! Dir. What dost thou more attend?
Ah Antonie! why dost thou death deferre?
Since Fortune thy professed enimie,
Hath made to die, who only made thee liue?
Sone as with sighes he had these words vp clos’d,
His armor he vnlaste, and cast it of,