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