And take me with thee to the hellish plaine,
Thy wife, thy frend: heare Antonie, ô heare
My sobbing sighes, if here thou be, or there.
Liued thus long, the winged race of yeares
Ended I haue as Destinie decreed,
Flourish’d and raign’d, and taken iust reuenge
Of him who me both hated and despisde.
Happie, alas too happie! if of Rome
Only the fleete had hither neuer come.
And now of me an Image great shall goe