That raign o're Ptolomy, make that a Court,
Where they reside, and this, where I, a Prison?
But there's a Rome, a Senate, and a Cæsar,
(Though the great Pompey lean to Ptolomy)
May think of Cleopatra.
Ap. Pompey, Madam?
Cleo. What of him? speak: if ill, Apollodorus,
It is my happiness: and for thy news
Receive a favour (Kings have kneel'd in vain for)
And kiss my hand.