I, that with my Sword,
Quarter'd the World, and o're greene Neptunes backe
With Ships, made Cities; condemne my selfe, to lacke
The Courage of a Woman, lesse Noble minde
Then she which by her death, our Caesar telles
I am Conqueror of my selfe. Thou art sworne Eros,
That when the exigent should come, which now
Is come indeed: When I should see behinde me
Th' ineuitable prosecution of disgrace and horror,
That on my command, thou then would'st kill me.
Doo't, the time is come: Thou strik'st not me,
'Tis Caesar thou defeat'st. Put colour in thy Cheeke
Eros. The Gods with-hold me,
Shall I do that which all the Parthian Darts,
(Though Enemy) lost ayme, and could not
Ant. Eros,
Would'st thou be window'd in great Rome, and see
Thy Master thus with pleacht Armes, bending downe
His corrigible necke, his face subdu'de
To penetratiue shame; whil'st the wheel'd seate
Of Fortunate Caesar drawne before him, branded
His Basenesse that ensued
Eros. I would not see't
Ant. Come then: for with a wound I must be cur'd.
Draw that thy honest Sword, which thou hast worne
Most vsefull for thy Country
Eros. Oh sir, pardon me
Ant. When I did make thee free, swor'st y not then
To do this when I bad thee? Do it at once,
Or thy precedent Seruices are all
But accidents vnpurpos'd. Draw, and come
Eros. Turne from me then that Noble countenance,
Wherein the worship of the whole world lyes
Ant.
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