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I am pofleft of 'tis exactly valued, (38)
Sel. Here, Madam.
Cleo. This is my treasurer, let him speak, my lord,
Sel. Madam, I had rather seal
Cleo. What have I kept back ?
Sel. Enough to purchase what you have made known. .: Cæf. Nay, bluth not, Cleopatra; I approve Your wisdom in the deed.
Cleo. See, Cæfar! Oh, ibehold, How Pomp is follow'd : mine will now be yours, And, should we shift eftates, yours would be mine. Th' ingratitude of this Seleucus do's Ev`n make me wild. Oh slave, of no more Trust Than love that's hird-What, goeft thou back ? thou
Cæs. Good Queen, let us intreat you.
- Tis exactly valued, Not perty Things admitted.] Sagacicus Editors ! Cleopatra gives in a List of her. Wealth, says, 'ris exactly valued, but that petty Things are not admitted in this Lift: and then she appeals to her Treasurer, to touch, that she has reservd Nothing to her self. Nay, and when he betrays her in this point, she is reduced to the shift of exclaiming against the Ingratitude of Sesvants to a Prince in his Decline, and of making Apologies for having secreted certain Trifles. What Confiftency is there in such a Conduct: And who does not see, that we ought to read :
--'Tis exactly valued ; Not peity Things omitted. For this Declaration lays open her Fallhood ; and makes her angry, when her Treasurer detects her is a direct Lye.
Doing the honour of thy lordliness
Cel. Forbear, Seleucus.
Cleo. My master, and my lord !
Cleo. He words- me,' Girls, he words me,
Iras. Finih, good lady, the bright day is done, And we are for the dark.
Cleo. Hie thee again.-
Dol. Madam, as thereto sworn, by your Command, Which my love makes religion to obey, I tell you this : Cæfar 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 performid Your pleasure
and my promise. Cleo. Dolabella, I shall remain your debtor.
Dol. I your servant.
think'st thou ?
Iras. The Gods forbid !
Cleo. Nay, 'tis moft certain, Iras: fawcy lictors
Iras. O the good Gods!
Are stronger than mine eyes.
Cleo. Why, that's the way (39)
[A noise within. Wherefore this noise?
Enter a Guard/man. Guards. Here is a rural fellow, That will not be deny'd your Highness' presence ; He brings you figs. Cleo. Let him come in. How poor an instrument
[Exit Guardsman. 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'm marble conftant: now the fleeting moor No planet is of mine. (39)
Why, that's the way
Their mos absurd Intents.] As plausible as this Epithet may at firft Glance appear, I have 5 great Suspicions of it. Why should Cleapatra call Cafar's De
signs absurd: She could not think his Intent of carrying her in Triumph, such, with regard to his own Glory: and her find. ing an Expedient to disappoint him, could not bring it under that predicament. I much rather think, the Poet wrote;
and to conquer Their most assur'd Intents. i. e, the Purposes, which they are most determind to put in practice; make Themselves noft sure of accomplishing.
Enter Guardsman, and Clown with a basket.
Cleo. Avoid and leave him. [Exit Guardsman.
Clown. Truly, I have him : but I would not be the party should desire you to touch him, for his biting is immortal : those, that do die of it, do seldom or
Cleo. Remember'st thou any that have dy'd on't?
Clown. Very many, men and women too. I heard of one of them no longer than yesterday, a very hanest woman, but something given to lie, as a woman should not do, but in the way of honesty. How she dyd of the biting of it, what pain the felt! truly, the makes a very good report o'th 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.
Clee. Get thee hence, farewel.
Clown. You must think this, look you, that the worm will do his kind.
Cleo. Ay, ay, farewel.
Clown. Look you, the worm is not to be trusted but in the keeping of wife people; for, indeed, where is no goodness in the worm.
Cleo. Take thou no care, it shall be heeded.
Clown. Very good : give it nothing, I pray you, for it is not worth the feeding.
Cleo. Will it eat me!
Clown. You must not think, I am fo fimple, 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 fame whore-fon 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, farewel.