the cinders of my spirits Through the ashes of my chance: wert thou a man, Thou wouldst have mercy on me. Forbear, Seleucus. Be it known, that we, the greatest, are misthought For things that others do; and, when we fall, We answer others' merits in our name, Are therefore to be pitied. Cleopatra, Not what you have reserved, nor what acknowledged, Put we i' the roll of conquest: still be't yours, Bestow it at your pleasure; and believe, Caesar's no merchant, to make prize with you Of things that merchants sold. Therefore be cheer'd; Make not your thoughts your prisons: no, dear queen; For we intend so to dispose you as Yourself shall give us counsel. Feed, and sleep: Our care and pity is so much upon you, That we remain your friend; and so, adieu. My master, and my lord! Not so. Adieu. He words me, girls, he words me, that I should not Be noble to myself: but, hark thee, Charmian. Finish, good lady; the bright day is done, And we are for the dark. Hie thee again: I have spoke already, and it is provided; Go put it to the haste. Madam, I will. Where is the queen? Behold, sir. Dolabella! Madam, as thereto sworn by your command, Which my love makes religion to obey, I tell you this: Caesar through Syria Intends his journey; and within three days You with your children will he send before: Make your best use of this: I have perform'd Your pleasure and my promise. Dolabella, I shall remain your debtor. I your servant, Adieu, good queen; I must attend on Caesar. Farewell, and thanks. [Exit ] Now, Iras, what think'st thou? Thou, an Egyptian puppet, shalt be shown In Rome, as well as I mechanic slaves With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall Uplift us to the view; in their thick breaths, Rank of gross diet, shall be enclouded, And forced to drink their vapour. The gods forbid! Nay, 'tis most certain, Iras: saucy lictors Will catch at us, like strumpets; and scald rhymers Ballad us out o' tune: the quick comedians Extemporally will stage us, and present Our Alexandrian revels; Antony Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness I' the posture of a whore. O the good gods! Nay, that's certain. I'll never see 't; for, I am sure, my nails Are stronger than mine eyes. Why, that's the way