And ending life fell dead before his fete.
O Eros thankes (quoth Antonie) for this
Most noble acte, who pow’rles me to kill,
On thee hast done, what I on mee should doe.
Of speaking thus he scarce had made an ende,
And taken vp the bloudie sword from ground,
But he his bodie piers’d; and of redd bloud
A gushing fountaine all the chamber fill’d.
He staggred at the blowe, his face grew pale,
And on a couche all feeble downe he fell,