To fool their preparation, and to conquer
Their most absurd intents.
Now, Charmian!
Show me, my women, like a queen: go fetch
My best attires: I am again for Cydnus,
To meet Mark Antony: sirrah Iras, go.
Now, noble Charmian, we'll dispatch indeed;
And, when thou hast done this chare, I'll give thee leave
To play till doomsday. Bring our crown and all.
Wherefore's this noise?
Here is a rural fellow
That will not be denied your highness presence:
He brings you figs.
Let him come in.
What poor an instrument
May do a noble deed! he brings me liberty.
My resolution's placed, and I have nothing
Of woman in me: now from head to foot
I am marble-constant; now the fleeting moon
No planet is of mine.
This is the man.
Avoid, and leave him.
Hast thou the pretty worm of Nilus there,
That kills and pains not?
Truly, I have him: but I would not be the party
that should desire you to touch him, for his biting
is immortal; those that do die of it do seldom or
never recover.
Rememberest thou any that have died on't?
Very many, men and women too. I heard of one of
them no longer than yesterday: a very honest woman,
but something given to lie; as a woman should not
do, but in the way of honesty: how she died of the
biting of it, what pain she felt: truly, she makes
a very good report o' the worm; but he that will
believe all that they say, shall never be saved by
half that they do: but this is most fallible, the
worm's an odd worm.
Get thee hence; farewell.
I wish you all joy of the worm.
Farewell.
You must think this, look you, that the worm will
do his kind.
Ay, ay; farewell.
Look you, the worm is not to be trusted but in the
keeping of wise people; for, indeed, there is no
goodness in worm.
Take thou no care; it shall be heeded.
Very good. Give it nothing, I pray you, for it is
not worth the feeding.
Will it eat me?
You must not think I am so simple but I know the
devil himself will not eat a woman: I know that a
woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her
not. But, truly, these same whoreson devils do the
gods great harm in their women; for in every ten
that they make, the devils mar five.
Well, get thee gone; farewell.
Yes, forsooth: