by William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616)

If it be love indeed, tell me how much
Language: English 
If it be love indeed, tell me how much.

There's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd.

I'll set a bourn how far to be belov'd.

Then must thou needs find out new heaven, new earth.


You must not stay here longer, your dismission
Is come from Caesar; therefore hear it, Antony.
[...]I am Egypt's queen.
Thou blushest, Antony; and that blood of thine
Is Caesar's homager. [...]

Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch
Of the rang'd empire fall! Here is my space.
We stand up peerless.

O false love! [...] 
I am sick and sullen. [...]

I am sorry. [...]

Stand farther from me. [...]
What says the married woman? [...]
Would she had never given you leave to come!
Let her not say 'tis I that keep you here:
I have no power upon you; hers you are.[...]
Nay, pray you, seek no colour for your going,
But bid farewell, and go: when you su'd staying,
Then was the time for words: no going then;—
Eternity was in our lips and eyes,
Bliss in our brows' bent; none our parts so poor
But was a race of heaven: they are so still,
Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world,
Art turn'd the greatest liar. [...]

O, whither hast thou led me, Egypt? See
How I convey my shame out of thine eyes
By looking back, what I have left behind. [...]

O my lord, my lord,
Forgive my fearful sails! I little thought
You would have follow'd.

[...] Thou knew'st too well
My heart was to thy rudder tied by the strings,
And thou shouldst tow me after. [...]

Lord of lords!
O infinite virtue, com'st thou smiling from
The world's great snare uncaught? [...] 

Mine nightingale,
We have beat them to their beds. What, girl!
[...]Behold this man;
Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand;—
Kiss it, my warrior: he hath fought to-day
As if a god. [...]

I'll give thee, friend,
An armour all of gold; it was a king's.

O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more:
Fortune and Antony part here; even here
Do we shake hands.—All come to this?
I am dying, Egypt. [...]

Noblest of men, woo't die?
Hast thou no care of me? shall I abide
In this dull world, which in thy absence is
No better than a sty?[...]
The crown o' the earth doth melt.—My lord!—

The miserable change now at my end
Lament nor sorrow at: but please your thoughts
In feeding them with those my former fortunes
Wherein I liv'd, the greatest prince o' the world,
The noblest; and do now not basely die.
[...] Now my spirit is going:
I can no more.

And there is nothing left remarkable
Beneath the visiting moon.

About the headline (FAQ)

Note: this text is abridged and reordered in many places, and uses material from Acts I.i, I.iii, III.xi, IV.viii, IV.xii, and IV.xiii. See also Noblest of men, woo't die?.


Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

Researcher for this text: Andrew Schneider [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website: 2019-05-23
Line count: 88
Word count: 485