I am possess'd of: 't is exactly valued;
Not petty things admitted.

Sel. Here, Madam.

Where's Seleucus?

Cleo. This is my treasurer: let him speak, my lord, Upon his peril, that I have reserv'd

To myself nothing. Speak the truth, Seleucus.

Sel. Madam,

I had rather seal my lips, than to my peril

Speak that which is not.

Cleo.

What have I kept back?

Sel. Enough to purchase what you have made known.
Cæs. Nay, blush not, Cleopatra; I approve

Your wisdom in the deed.

Cleo.

See, Cæsar! O, behold,

How pomp is follow'd! mine will now be yours,
And should we shift estates, yours would be mine.
The ingratitude of this Seleucus does

Even make me wild.
Than love that 's hir'd!
Go back, I warrant thee;
Though they had wings.
O rarely base!
Cæs.

What! goest thou back? thou shalt but I'll catch thine eyes, Slave, soul-less villain, dog!

Good queen, let us entreat you.

Cleo. O Cæsar! what a wounding shame is this; That thou, vouchsafing here to visit me,

Doing the honour of thy lordliness

To one so meek, that mine own servant should

Parcel the sum of my disgraces by

Addition of his envy! Say, good Cæsar,

That I some lady trifles have reserv'd,
Immoment toys, things of such dignity

As we greet modern friends withal; and say,
Some nobler token I have kept apart

For Livia, and Octavia, to induce

Their mediation, must I be unfolded

With one that I have bred? The gods! it smites me
Beneath the fall I have. Pr'ythee, go hence;

[TO SELEUCUS.

Cleo. 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.

Cæs.

Cleopatra,

Not what you have reserv'd, nor what acknowledg'd,
Put we i' the roll of conquest: still be it yours,
Bestow it at your pleasure; and believe,
Cæsar's no merchant, to make prize with you

Of things that merchants sold. Therefore be cheer'd;
Make not your thoughts your prisons: no,

For we intend so to dispose you, as

dear queen;

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.

Cleo. My master, and my lord!

Cœs.

Not so.

Adieu.

[Flourish. Exeunt CÆSAR, and his Train.

Cleo. He words me, girls, he words me, that I should not Be noble to myself: but hark thee, Charmian.

[Whispers CHARMIAN.

Iras. Finish, good lady; the bright day is done,

And we are for the dark.

Dol. Madam, as thereto sworn by your command,
Which my love makes religion to obey,

I tell you this: Cæsar 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.

Cleo.

I shall remain your debtor.

Dol.

Dolabella,

I your servant.

Adieu, good queen; I must attend on Cæsar.

Cleo. Farewell, and thanks. [Exit DoL.] Now, Iras,
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 we be enclouded,
And forc'd to drink their vapour.

Iras.

The gods forbid!

Cleo. Nay, 't is 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.

Iras.

O, the good gods!

Cleo. Nay, that is certain.

Iras. I'll never see it; for, I am sure, my nails Are stronger than mine eyes.

Cleo.

Why, that's the way

To fool their preparation, and to conquer

Their most absurd intents. Now, Charmian?

what

Re-enter 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 despatch indeed;

And, when thou hast done this chare, I'll give thee leave
To play till dooms-day. Bring our crown and all.

Wherefore's this noise?

Guard.

[Exit IRAS. A noise within.

Enter one of the Guard.

Here is a rural fellow,

That will not be denied your highness' presence:

He brings you figs.

Cleo. Let him come in. What poor an instrument

May do a noble deed! he brings me liberty.
My resolution's plac'd, 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.

[Exit Guard.

Re-enter Guard, with a Clown bringing in a Basket.

Cleo. Avoid, and leave him.

Hast thou the pretty worm of Nilus there,

That kills and pains not?

[Exit Guard.

Clown. 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.

Cleo. Remember'st thou any that have died on 't?

Clown. 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.

Cleo. Get thee hence: farewell.

Clown. I wish you all joy of the worm.

Cleo. Farewell.

Clown.

do his kind.

[Clown sets down the Basket. You must think this, look you, that the worm will

Cleo. Ay, ay; farewell.

Clown. Look you, the worm is not to be trusted but in the keeping of wise people; for, indeed, there is no goodness in the

worm.

Cleo. Take thou no care: it shall be heeded.

Clown. Very good.

not worth the feeding.

Cleo. Will it eat me?

Give it nothing, I pray you, for it is

Clown. 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.

Cleo. Well, get thee gone: farewell.
Clown. Yes, forsooth; I wish you joy of the worm.

Re-enter IRAS, with a Robe, Crown, &c.
Cleo. Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have
Immortal longings in me. Now, no more
The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip. —
Yare, yare, good Iras; quick. Methinks, I hear
Antony call: I see him rouse himself

To praise my noble act; I hear him mock
The luck of Cæsar, which the gods give men
To excuse their after wrath. Husband, I come:
Now to that name my courage prove my title!
I am fire, and air; my other elements
I give to baser life. So, have you done?
Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips.
Farewell, kind Charmian: — Iras, long farewell.

[Exit.

[Kisses them. IRAS falls and dies.

Have I the aspick in my lips? Dost fall?
If thou and nature can so gently part,