On the death of Cleopatra

Take up her bed,

She looks like sleep,

As she would catch another Antony

In her strong toil of grace.

Take up her bed,

She looks like sleep,

And bear her women from the monument.

She shall be buried by her Antony.

No grave on earth shall clasp in it

A pair so famous.

Our army shall

In solemn show attend this funeral,

And then to Rome.