1    Help me, my women! O, he is more mad
2    Than Telamon for his shield; the boar of Thessaly
3    Was never so emboss'd.

4    To the monument!
5    There lock yourself, and send him word you are dead.
6    The soul and body rive not more in parting
7    Than greatness going off.

8    To the monument!
9    Mardian, go tell him I have slain myself;
10   Say, that the last I spoke was 'Antony,'
11   And word it, prithee, piteously: hence, Mardian,
12   And bring me how he takes my death.
13   To the monument!