He cried out with the most bitter expressions of sorrow, mourning, he said, not so much Cleopatra's death, for he should soon follow and join her, as the fact that she had proved herself so superior to him in courage at last, in having thus anticipated him in the work of self-destruction.
He was at this time in one of the chambers of the palace, whither he had fled in despair, and was standing by a fire, for the morning was cold.
He had a favorite servant named Eros, whom he greatly trusted, and whom he had made to take an oath long before, that whenever it should become necessary for him to die, Eros should kill him.

This Eros he now called to him, and telling him that the time was come, ordered him to take the sword and strike the blow.
Eros took the sword while Antony stood up before him.

Eros turned his head aside as if wishing that his eyes should not see the deed which his hands were about to perform.

Instead, however, of piercing his master with it, he plunged it into his own breast, fell down at Antony's feet, and died.
Antony gazed a moment at the shocking spectacle, and then said, "I thank thee for this, noble Eros.

Thou hast set me an example.