And Make Death Proud To Take Us.

[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.

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.

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

My Honour Was Not Yielded, But Conquered Merely.