"
It is this greatness of soul in Cleopatra which Shakespeare has now to
portray. Caesar's messenger, Proculeius, whom Antony has told her to
trust, promises her everything in return for her "sweet dependency." On
being surprised she tries to kill herself, and when disarmed shows again
that characteristic petulant anger:
"Sir, I will eat no meat, I'll not drink, sir;
. . . . . This mortal house I'll ruin,
Do Caesar what he can."
And her reasons are all of pride and hatred of disgrace. She'll not be
"chastised with the sober eye of dull Octavia," nor shown "to the
shouting varletry of censuring Rome." Her imagination is at work now,
that quick forecast of the mind that steels her desperate resolve:
"Rather on Nilus' mud
Lay me stark nak'd, and let the water-flies
Blow me into abhorring."
The heroic mood passes. She tries to deceive Caesar as to her wealth,
and is shamed by her treasurer Seleucus. The scene is appalling; poor
human nature stripped to the skin--all imperfections exposed; Cleopatra
cheating, lying, raging like a drab; her words to Seleucus are merciless
while self-revealing:
"O slave, of no more trust
Than love that's hired.
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