And put a look on, arm'd with all my cunnings,
Shall meet him like a Basilisque, and strike him:
Love, put destroying flames 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.
Ap. Cæsar commends his Service to your Grace.
Cleo. His service? what's his service?
Eros. Pray ye be patient,
The noble Cæsar loves still.