Cleo.
My desolation does begin to make
A better life; 'tis paltry to be Cæsar:
Not being fortune, he's but fortune's knave,
A minister of her will; and it is great,
To do that thing that ends all other deeds,
Which shackles accidents, and bolts up change,
Which sleeps, and never pallats more the dung,
(The beggar's nurse, and Cæsar's.) Enter Proculeius.

Pro.
Cæsar sends greeting to the Queen of Ægypt,
And bids thee study on what fair demands
Thou mean'st to have him grant thee.

Cleo.
What's thy name?

Pro.
My name is Proculeius.

Cleo.
Antony
Did tell me of you, bad me trust you, but
I do not greatly care to be deceiv'd,
That have no use for trusting. If your master
Would have a Queen his beggar, you must tell him,
That majesty, to keep decorum, must
No less beg than a kingdom: if he please

To give me conquer'd Ægypt for my son,
He gives me so much of mine own, as I
Will kneel to him with thanks.

Pro.
Be of good cheer:
You're faln into a princely hand, fear nothing,
Make your full ref'rence freely to my lord,
Who is so full of grace, that it flows over
On all that need. Let me report to him
Your sweet dependency, and you shall find
A conqu'ror that will pray, in aid for kindness,
Where he for grace is kneel'd to.

Cleo.
Pray you tell him,
I am his fortunes vassal, and I send him
The greatness he has got. I hourly learn
A doctrine of obedience, and would gladly
Look him i'th' face.

Pro.
This I'll report, dear lady.
Have comfort, for I know your plight is pity'd
Of him that caus'd it.

Char.
You see how easily she may be surpris'd.

Pro.
Guard her 'till Cæsar come.

Iras.
Royal Queen.

Char.
Oh Cleopatra, thou art taken, Queen.

Cleo.
Quick, quick, good hands.

Pro.
Hold, worthy lady, hold:
Do not your self such wrong, who are in this
Reliev'd, but not betray'd.

Cleo.
What of death too, that rids our dogs of languish?

Pro.
Do not abuse my master's bounty, by
Th' undoing of your self: let the world see
His nobleness well acted, which your death
Will never let come forth.

Cleo.
Where art thou, death?

Come hither, come: oh come, and take a Queen
Worth many babes and beggars.

Pro.
Oh temperance, lady!

Cleo.
Sir, I will eat no meat, I'll not drink, Sir:
If idle talk will once be necessary,
I'll not sleep neither. This mortal house I'll ruin,
Do Cæsar what he can. Know, Sir, that I
Will not wait pinion'd at your master's court,
Not once be chastis'd with the sober eye
Of dull Octavia. Shall they hoist me up,
And shew me to the shouting varlotry
Of cens'ring Rome? rather a ditch in Ægypt
Be gentle grave unto me: rather on Nilus' mud
Lay me stark-nak'd, and let the water-flies
Blow me into abhorring: rather make
My country's high Pyramides my gibbet,
And hang me up in chains.

Pro.
You do extend
These thoughts of horror further than you shall
Find cause in Cæsar. Enter Dolabella.

Dol.
Proculeius,
What thou hast done my master Cæsar knows,
And he hath sent for thee: as for the Queen,
I'll take her to my guard.

Pro.
So, Dolabella,
It shall content me best; be gentle to her:
To Cæsar I will speak what you shall please,
If you'll employ me to him.

Cleo.
Say, I would die. [Exit Proculeius.

Dol.
Most noble Empress, you have heard of me.

Cleo.
I cannot tell.

Dol.
Assuredly you know me.

Cleo.
No matter, Sir, what I have heard or known:
You laugh when boys or women tell their dreams,
Is't not your trick?

Dol.
I understand not, Madam.

Cleo.
I dreamt there was an Emp'ror Antony;
Oh such another sleep, that I might see
But such another man!

Dol.
If it might please ye—

Cleo.
His face was as the heav'ns, and therein stuck
A sun and moon, which kept their course, and lighted
The little o'th' earth.

Dol.
Most sovereign creature—

Cleo.
His legs bestrid the ocean, his rear'd arm
Crested the world: his voice was propertied
As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends:
But when he meant to quail, and shake the Orb,
He was as ratling thunder. For his bounty,
There was no winter in't. An Antony it was,
That grew the more by reaping: his delights
Were dolphin like, they shew'd his back above
The element they liv'd in; in his livery
Walk'd crowns and coronets, realms and islands
As plates dropt from his pocket.

Dol.
Cleopatra—

Cleo.
Think you there was, or might be such a man
As this I dreamt of?

Dol.
Gentle Madam, no.

Cleo.
You lie, up to the hearing of the Gods;
But if there be, or ever were one such,
It's past the size of dreaming: nature wants stuff
To vye strange forms with fancy, yet t'imagine
An Antony were nature's piece, 'gainst fancy,

Condemning shadows quite.

Dol.
Hear me, good Madam:
Your loss is as your self, great; and you bear it
As answ'ring to the weight: would I might never
O'er-take pursu'd success, but I do feel
By the rebound of yours, a grief that shoots
My very heart at root.

Cleo.
I thank you, Sir.
Know you what Cæsar means to do with me?

Dol.
I'm loth to tell you what I would you knew.

Cleo.
Nay, pray you, Sir.

Dol.
Though he be honourable—

Cleo.
He'll lead me then in triumph?

Dol.
Madam, he will, I know't.

All.
Make way there—Cæsar.

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