Cleo. I will not.
Cæsar. I command.
Cleo. Command, and goe without, Sir.
I do command thee be my slave for ever,
And vex while I laugh at thee.
Cæsar. Thus low, beauty.
Cleo. It is too late; when I have found thee absolute,
The man that Fame reports thee, and to me,
May be I shall think better. Farewel Conquerour. [Exit.
Cæsar. She mocks me too: I will enjoy her Beauty: