Act I, Scene v:
Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.

[Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, and MARDIAN.]

CLEOPATRA:

Charmian,—

CHARMIAN:

Madam?

CLEOPATRA:

Ha, ha!—

Give me to drink mandragora.

CHARMIAN:

Why, madam?

CLEOPATRA:

That I might sleep out this great gap of time

My Antony is away.

CHARMIAN:

You think of him too much.

CLEOPATRA:

O, 'tis treason!

CHARMIAN:

Madam, I trust, not so.

CLEOPATRA:

Thou, eunuch Mardian!

MARDIAN:

What's your highness' pleasure?

CLEOPATRA:

Not now to hear thee sing; I take no pleasure

In aught an eunuch has; 'tis well for thee

That, being unseminar'd, thy freer thoughts

May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou affections?

MARDIAN:

Yes, gracious madam.

CLEOPATRA:

Indeed!

MARDIAN:

Not in deed, madam; for I can do nothing

But what indeed is honest to be done:

Yet have I fierce affections, and think

What Venus did with Mars.

CLEOPATRA:

O Charmian,

Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he or sits he?

Or does he walk? or is he on his horse?

O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony!

Do bravely, horse! for wott'st thou whom thou mov'st?

The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm

And burgonet of men.—He's speaking now,

Or murmuring 'Where's my serpent of old Nile?'

For so he calls me.—Now I feed myself

With most delicious poison:—think on me,

That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black,

And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Caesar,

When thou wast here above the ground I was

A morsel for a monarch: and great Pompey

Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow;

There would he anchor his aspect and die

With looking on his life.

[Enter ALEXAS.]

ALEXAS:

Sovereign of Egypt, hail!

CLEOPATRA:

How much unlike art thou Mark Antony!

Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath

With his tinct gilded thee.—

How goes it with my brave Mark Antony?

ALEXAS:

Last thing he did, dear queen,

He kiss'd,—the last of many doubled kisses,—

This orient pearl: his speech sticks in my heart.

CLEOPATRA:

Mine ear must pluck it thence.

ALEXAS:

'Good friend,' quoth he

'Say, the firm Roman to great Egypt sends

This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot,

To mend the petty present, I will piece

Her opulent throne with kingdoms; all the east,

Say thou, shall call her mistress.' So he nodded,

And soberly did mount an arm-girt steed,

Who neigh'd so high that what I would have spoke

Was beastly dumb'd by him.

CLEOPATRA:

What, was he sad or merry?

ALEXAS:

Like to the time o' the year between the extremes

Of hot and cold, he was nor sad nor merry.

CLEOPATRA:

O well-divided disposition!—Note him,

Note him, good Charmian; 'tis the man; but note him:

He was not sad,—for he would shine on those

That make their looks by his; he was not merry,—

Which seem'd to tell them his remembrance lay

In Egypt with his joy; but between both:

O heavenly mingle!—Be'st thou sad or merry,

The violence of either thee becomes,

So does it no man else.—Mett'st thou my posts?

ALEXAS:

Ay, madam, twenty several messengers.

Why do you send so thick?

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 Caesar so?

CHARMIAN:

O that brave Caesar!

CLEOPATRA:

Be chok'd with such another emphasis!

Say 'the brave Antony.'

CHARMIAN:

The valiant Caesar!

CLEOPATRA:

By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth

If thou with Caesar 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 ink and paper: he shall have every day

A several greeting,

Or I'll unpeople Egypt.

[Exeunt.]