Dol.
Proculeius.
What thou hast done thy 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 ^{6 note}O 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, when 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 (a) ^note Autumn 'twas,
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 were
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, ^{7 note}

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 in triumph?

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

All.
Make way there,—Cæsar.

Previous section

Next section