Part 58

CLEOPATRA.

Who's born that day When I forget to send to Antony, Shall die a beggar. Ink and paper, Charmian. Welcome, my good Alexas. Did I, Charmian, Ever love Cæsar so?

CHARMIAN.

O that brave Cæsar!

CLEOPATRA.

Be chok'd with such another emphasis! Say, the brave Antony.

CHARMIAN.

The valiant Cæsar!

CLEOPATRA.

By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth, If thou with Cæsar paragon again My man of men!

CHARMIAN.

By your most gracious pardon, I sing but after you.

CLEOPATRA.

My salad days, When I was green in judgment, cold in blood, To say as I said then. But, come away-- Get me some ink and paper: he shall have every day A several greeting, or I'll unpeople Egypt.

We learn from Plutarch, that it was a favorite amusement with Antony and Cleopatra to ramble through the streets at night, and bandy ribald jests with the populace of Alexandria. From the same authority, we know that they were accustomed to live on the most familiar terms with their attendants and the companions of their revels. To these traits we must add, that with all her violence, perverseness, egotism, and caprice, Cleopatra mingled a capability for warm affections and kindly feeling, or rather what we should call in these days, a constitutional good-nature; and was lavishly generous to her favorites and dependents. These characteristics we find scattered through the play; they are not only faithfully rendered by Shakspeare, but he has made the finest use of them in his delineation of manners. Hence the occasional freedom of her women and her attendants, in the midst of their fears and flatteries, becomes most natural and consistent: hence, too, their devoted attachment and fidelity, proved even in death. But as illustrative of Cleopatra's disposition, perhaps the finest and most characteristic scene in the whole play, is that in which the messenger arrives from Rome with the tidings of Antony's marriage with Octavia. She perceives at once with quickness that all is not well, and she hastens to anticipate the worst, that she may have the pleasure of being disappointed. Her impatience to know what she fears to learn, the vivacity with which she gradually works herself up into a state of excitement, and at length into fury, is wrought out with a force of truth which makes us recoil.

CLEOPATRA.

Antony's dead! If thou say so, villain, thou kill'st thy mistress. But well and free, If thou so yield him, there is gold, and here My bluest veins to kiss; a hand that kings Have lipp'd, and trembled kissing.

MESSENGER.

First, madam, he is well.

CLEOPATRA.

Why, there's more gold. But, sirrah, mark! we use To say, the dead are well: bring it to that, The gold I give thee will I melt, and pour Down thy ill-uttering throat.

MESSENGER.

Good madam, hear me.

CLEOPATRA.

Well, go to, I will. But there's no goodness in thy face. If Antony Be free and healthful, why so tart a favor To trumpet such good tidings? If not well, Thou should'st come like a fury crown'd with snakes.

MESSENGER.

Wil't please you hear me?

CLEOPATRA.