proper terms of capitulation.  Here, therefore, she retired from Antony’s fury—­shutting the fortified gates, and giving orders to have it reported that she was dead. 12.  This news soon reached Antony, and it recalled all his former love and tenderness.  Subject to every gust of passion, and each of them in the extreme, he now lamented her death with the same violence that he had just before seemed to desire it.  “Miserable man!” exclaimed he, “what is there now worth living for? since all that could soothe or soften my cares is departed!  O Cleopa’tra! our separation does not so much afflict me, as the disgrace I suffer, in permitting a woman to instruct me in the ways of dying.”

[Illustration:  Death of Eros.]

13.  He now called to him one of his freedmen, named Eros, whom he had engaged, by oath, to kill him, whenever fortune should drive him to this last resource, and commanded him to perform his promise.  This faithful follower drew his sword, as if going instantly to strike the blow, when, turning his face, he plunged it into his own bosom, and dropped at his master’s feet. 14.  Antony, for a while, hung over his faithful servant, charmed with his fidelity.  Then snatching up the sword he stabbed himself in the belly, and fell backward upon a couch. 15.  The wound was mortal; yet the blood stopping, he recovered his spirits, and earnestly conjured those who were come into the room to put an end to his life; but they all fled, seized with fright and horror. 16.  He continued in this miserable condition till he was informed by one of the queen’s secretaries, that his mistress was still alive, and begged that he would suffer himself to be transported to the monument where she was.  He was accordingly brought to the sepulchre; but Cleopa’tra, attended by her two women only, durst by no means permit the gate to be opened, but from the window threw down cords, with which, with great difficulty, they drew him up. 17.  Antony, bathed in his blood, held out his hands to Cleopa’tra, and faintly endeavoured to raise himself from the couch on which he had been laid.  The queen gave way to sorrow, tore her clothes, beat her breast, and kissing the wound of which he was dying, called him her husband, her lord, her emperor. 18.  Antony entreated her to moderate the transports of her grief, and to preserve her life, if she could be able to do it with honour.  “As for me, lament not my misfortunes,” he said; “but congratulate me upon the happiness which I have enjoyed; I have lived the greatest and most powerful of men; and though I fall, my fate is not ignominious; a Roman myself, I am, at last, by a Roman overcome” Having thus said, he expired.