I guess so by your rudeness.
CÆSAR.
You're not angry?
Things of your tender mould should be most gentle.
Why should you frown? Good gods, what a set anger
Have you forc'd into your face! Come, I must temper you.
What a coy smile was there, and a disdainful!
How like an ominous flash it broke out from you!
Defend me, love! Sweet, who has anger'd you?
CLEOPATRA.
Show him a glass! That false face has betray'd me—
That base heart wrong'd me!
CÆSAR.
Be more sweetly angry.
I wrong'd you, fair?
CLEOPATRA.
Away with your foul flatteries;
They are too gross! But that I dare be angry,
And with as great a god as Cæsar is,
To show how poorly I respect his memory
I would not speak to you.
CÆSAR.