John Dryden,
All for Love; Or, The World Well Lost…
“ ANTONY. Gods, 'tis too much; too much for man to bear. CLEOPATRA. What is't for me then, A weak, forsaken woman, and a lover?— Here let me breathe my last: envy me not This minute in your arms: I'll die apace, As fast as e'er I can, and end your trouble. ANTONY. Die! rather let me perish; loosened nature Leap from its hinges, sink the props of heaven, And fall the skies, to crush the nether world! My eyes, my soul, my all! [Embraces her.] VENTIDIUS. And what's this toy, In balance with your fortune, honour, fame? ANTONY. What is't, Ventidius?—it outweighs them all ”
