some faint jewels
Before the light of love, and soul of beauty--
O how it vexes me! He is no soldier:
All honorable soldiers are Love's servants.
He is a merchant, a mere wandering merchant,
Servile to gain; he trades for poor commodities,
And makes his conquests thefts! Some fortunate captains
That quarter with him, and are truly valiant.
Have flung the name of "Happy Caesar" on him;
Himself ne'er won it. He's so base and covetous,
He'll sell his sword for gold.

ARSINOE.

This is too bitter.

CLEOPATRA.

O, I could curse myself, that was so foolish.
So fondly childish, to believe his tongue--
His promising tongue--ere I could catch his temper.
I'd trash enough to have cloyed his eyes withal,
(His covetous eyes,) such as I scorn to tread on,
Richer than e'er he saw yet, and more tempting;
Had I known he'd stoop'd at that, I'd saved mine honor--
I had been happy still! But let him take it.
And let him brag how poorly I'm rewarded;
Let him go conquer still weak wretched ladies;
Love has his angry quiver too, his deadly,
And when he finds scorn, armed at the strongest--
I am a fool to fret thus for a fool,--
An old blind fool too! I lose my health; I will not,
I will not cry; I will not honor him
With tears diviner than the gods he worships;
I will not take the pains to curse a poor thing.

EROS.

Do not; you shall not need.

CLEOPATRA.

Would I were prisoner
To one I hate, that I might anger him!
I will love any man to break the heart of him!
Any that has the heart and will to kill him!

ARSINOE.

Take some fair truce.

CLEOPATRA.

I will go study mischief,
And put a look on, arm'd with all my cunnings.
Shall meet him like a basilisk, and strike him.
Love! put destroying flame into mine eyes,
Into my smiles deceits, that I may torture him--
That I may make him love to death, and laugh at him

_Enter_ APOLLODORUS.

APOLLODORUS.

Caesar commends his service to your grace

CLEOPATRA.

His service? What's his service?

EROS.