To tell them that this world did equal theirs Till they had stol'n our jewel. All's but naught; Patience is scottish, and impatience does Become a dog that's mad: then is it sin To rush into the secret house of death, Ere death dare come to us? How do you, women? What, what! good cheer! Why, how now, Charmian! My noble girls! Ah, women, women, look, Our lamp is spent, it's out! Good sirs, take heart: We'll bury him; and then, what's brave, what's noble, Let's do it after the high Roman fashion, And make death proud to take us. Come, away: This case of that huge spirit now is cold: Ah, women, women! come; we have no friend But resolution, and the briefest end. Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield; Being so frustrate, tell him he mocks The pauses that he makes. Caesar, I shall. Wherefore is that? and what art thou that darest Appear thus to us? I am call'd Dercetas; Mark Antony I served, who best was worthy Best to be served: whilst he stood up and spoke, He was my master; and I wore my life To spend upon his haters. If thou please To take me to thee, as I was to him I'll be to Caesar; if thou pleasest not, I yield thee up my life. What is't thou say'st? I say, O Caesar, Antony is dead. The breaking of so great a thing should make A greater crack: the round world Should have shook lions into civil streets, And citizens to their dens: the death of Antony Is not a single doom; in the name lay A moiety of the world. He is dead, Caesar: Not by a public minister of justice, Nor by a hired knife; but that self hand, Which writ his honour in the acts it did, Hath, with the courage which the heart did lend it, Splitted the heart. This is his sword; I robb'd his wound of it; behold it stain'd With his most noble blood. Look you sad, friends? The gods rebuke me, but it is tidings To wash the eyes of kings. And strange it is, That nature must compel us to lament Our most persisted deeds. His taints and honours Waged equal with him. A rarer spirit never Did steer humanity: but you, gods, will give us Some faults to make us men. Caesar is touch'd. When such a spacious mirror's set before him, He needs must see himself. O Antony! I have follow'd thee to