[ Antony dies.]
The crown o’ th’ earth doth melt.—My lord!
O, withered is the garland of the war,
The soldier’s pole is fallen; young boys and girls
Are level now with men. The odds is gone,
And there is nothing left remarkable
Beneath the visiting moon.
[Faints.]
CHARMIAN.
O, quietness, lady!
IRAS.
She is dead too, our sovereign.
CHARMIAN.
Lady!
IRAS.
Madam!
CHARMIAN.
O madam, madam, madam!
IRAS.
Royal Egypt, Empress!
CHARMIAN.
Peace, peace, Iras!