CLEOPATRA.
Peace, peace!
Dost thou not see my baby at my breast
That sucks the nurse asleep?
CHARMIAN.
O, break! O, break!
CLEOPATRA.
As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle—
O Antony!—Nay, I will take thee too.
[Applying another asp to her arm.]
What should I stay—
[Dies.]
CHARMIAN.
In this vile world? So, fare thee well.
Now boast thee, Death, in thy possession lies
A lass unparalleled. Downy windows, close,
And golden Phœbus never be beheld
Of eyes again so royal! Your crown’s awry;
I’ll mend it and then play.
Enter the Guard rustling in.
FIRST GUARD.
Where’s the queen?
CHARMIAN.
Speak softly. Wake her not.