Enter four or five of the guard of Antony

ANTONY         Bear me, good friends, where Cleopatra bides.

’Tis the last service that I shall command you.

FIRST GUARD             Woe, woe are we, sir, you may not live to wear

All your true followers out.

ALL THE GUARDS      Most heavy day!

ANTONY Nay, good my fellows, do not please sharp fate

To grace it with your sorrows. Bid that welcome

Which comes to punish us, and we punish it,

Seeming to bear it lightly. Take me up.

I have led you oft; carry me now, good friends,

And have my thanks for all.

[Exeunt] bearing Antony        (4.15.128-137)

Here’s the guards back again, to be greeted with characteristic courtesy and warmth by Antony: bring me, good friends, where Cleopatra bides. Take me to her. ’Tis the last service that I shall command you—it’s my final order, the last thing you’ll be able to do for me. The first guard speaks for all of them: woe, woe are we, sir, you may not live to wear all your true followers out. This is terrible; your loyal servants want you to live long enough to exhaust them all. They want you to outlive them! Most heavy day, the other guards respond; this is dreadful, appalling. In a way they’re a kind of tragic chorus, beginning the process of redeeming Antony from his messy, botched suicide into something more noble, through their simple act of lamentation. Woe! Woe! Antony’s having none of it; he doesn’t want their tears. Nay, good my fellows—come on, now, lads—do not please sharp fate to grace it with your sorrows. This is rubbish, yes, but don’t give fate the satisfaction of your lamentation. Don’t weep for me; don’t cry. Fight it! Snub it! Bid that welcome which comes to punish us, and we punish it, seeming to bear it lightly. When things don’t go your way, when everything is dark, the best thing is to shrug it off, not let it get to you. Defy fate! Mock it! Say, bring it on! Make the best of it, make a joke of it! Seeming to bear it lightly can itself be a kind of joke, if they’re in the middle of trying to pick Antony up to carry him—he’s responding to the action—or even just if they’re preparing to do so, as well as playing on their heavy day a few lines earlier. So take me up, he says. Help me; I can’t do this for myself, I need you. I have led you oft: I’ve been your leader, and you’ve followed me. Carry me now, good friends(friends, again) and have my thanks for all. Thanks will be all I can give you, and the last thing I can give you, for allof you and for all time.

And so they carry Antony away, and perhaps Eros too, undignified, ungainly and in pain—to be reunited with Cleopatra…