SCENE IXCæsar's camp. Sentinels at their post.
If we be not relieved within this hour,
We must return to the court of guard: the night
Is shiny; and they say we shall embattle
By the second hour i' the morn.
This last day was
A shrewd one to's. Enter ENOBARBUS.
O, bear me witness, night,—
What man is this?
Stand close, and list him.
Be witness to me, O thou blessed moon,
When men revolted shall upon record
Bear hateful memory, poor Enobarbus did
Before thy face repent!
O sovereign mistress of true melancholy,
The poisonous damp of night disponge upon me,
That life, a very rebel to my will,
May hang no longer on me: throw my heart
Against the flint and hardness of my fault;
Which, being dried with grief, will break to powder,
And finish all foul thoughts. O Antony,
Nobler than my revolt is infamous, (20)
Forgive me in thine own particular;
But let the world rank me in register
A master-leaver and a fugitive:
O Antony ! O Antony! Dies.
Let's hear him, for the things he speaks
May concern Cæsar.
Let's do so. But he sleeps.
Swoons rather; for so bad a prayer as his
Was never yet for sleep.
Go we to him.
Awake, sir, awake; speak to us.
Hear you, sir ?
The hand of death hath raught him. Drums afar off. Hark! the drums (31)
Demurely wake the sleepers. Let us bear him
To the court of guard; he is of note: our hour
Is fully out.
Come on, then;
He may recover yet. Exeunt with the body