My Honour Was Not Yielded,

[at Marc Antony's Tomb:] Nothing Could Part Us In Life, But Now In Death We Are Likely To Change Places, You The Roman Lying Here In Egyptian Soil, And I, Helpless Woman That I Am, Being Buried In Italy.

Be It Known That We, The Greatest, Are Misthought.

And Make Death Proud To Take Us.

Fool! Don't You See Now That I Could Have Poisoned You A Hundred Times Had I Been Able To Live Without You.

All Strange And Terrible Events Are Welcome, But Comforts We Despise.