MARK ANTONY Since Cleopatra died, I have lived in such dishonour,that the gods Detest my baseness.I,that with my sword Quarter'd the world,and o'er green Neptune's back With ships made cities,condemn myself to lack The courage of a woman;less noble mind Than she which by her death our Caesar tells 'I am conqueror of myself.'Thou art sworn,Eros, That,when the exigent should come,which now Is come indeed,when I should see behind me The inevitable prosecution of Disgrace and horror,that,on my command, Thou then wouldst kill me:do't;the time is come: Thou strikest not me,'tis Caesar thou defeat'st. Put colour in thy cheek. EROS The gods withhold me！ Shall I do that which all the Parthian darts, Though enemy,lost aim,and could not? MARK ANTONY Eros, Wouldst thou be window'd in great Rome and see Thy master thus with pleach'd arms,bending down His corrigible neck,his face subdued To penetrative shame,whilst the wheel'd seat Of fortunate Caesar,drawn before him,branded His baseness that ensued? EROS I would not see't. MARK ANTONY Come,then;for with a wound I must be cured. Draw that thy honest sword,which thou hast worn Most useful for thy country EROS O,sir,pardon me! MARK ANTONY When I did make thee free,sworest thou not then To do this when I bade thee?Do it at once; Or thy precedent services are all But accidents unpurposed.Draw,and come. EROS Turn from me,then,that noble countenance, Wherein the worship of the whole world lies.MARK ANTONY Since Cleopatra died, I have lived in such dishonour, that the gods Detest my baseness. I, that with my sword Quarter'd the world, and o'er green Neptune's back With ships made cities, condemn myself to lack The courage of a woman; less noble mind Than she which by her death our Caesar tells 'I am conqueror of myself.' Thou art sworn, Eros, That, when the exigent should come, which now Is come indeed, when I should see behind me The inevitable prosecution of Disgrace and horror, that, on my command, Thou then wouldst kill me: do't; the time is come: Thou strikest not me, 'tis Caesar thou defeat'st. Put colour in thy cheek. EROS The gods withhold me! Shall I do that which all the Parthian darts, Though enemy, lost aim, and could not? MARK ANTONY Eros, Wouldst thou be window'd in great Rome and see Thy master thus with pleach'd arms, bending down His corrigible neck, his face subdued To penetrative shame, whilst the wheel'd seat Of fortunate Caesar, drawn before him, branded His baseness that ensued? EROS I would not see't. MARK ANTONY Come, then; for with a wound I must be cured. Draw that thy honest sword, which thou hast worn Most useful for thy country. EROS O, sir, pardon me! MARK ANTONY When I did make thee free, sworest thou not then To do this when I bade thee? Do it at once; Or thy precedent services are all But accidents unpurposed. Draw, and come. EROS Turn from me, then, that noble countenance, Wherein the worship of the whole world lies