Pray you, undo this riddle,
And tell me how I've vexed you.
CLEOPATRA.
Let me think first,
Whether I may put on patience
That will with honor suffer me. Know I hate you!
Let that begin the story. Now I'll tell you.
CÆSAR.
But do it mildly: in a noble lady,
Softness of spirit, and a sober nature,
That moves like summer winds, cool, and blows sweetness,
Shows blessed, like herself.
CLEOPATRA.
And that great blessedness.
You first reap'd of me; till you taught my nature,
Like a rude storm, to talk aloud and thunder,
Sleep was not gentler than my soul, and stiller.
You had the spring of my affections,
And my fair fruits I gave you leave to taste of;
You must expect the winter of mine anger.
You flung me off—before the court disgraced me—
When in the pride I appear'd of all my beauty—
Appear'd your mistress; took unto your eyes
The common strumpet, love of hated lucre,—
Courted with covetous heart the slave of nature,—
Gave all your thoughts to gold, that men of glory,
And minds adorned with noble love, would kick at!
Soldiers of royal mark scorn such base purchase;
Beauty and honor are the marks they shoot at.
I spake to you then, I courted you, and woo'd you,
Called you dear Cæsar, hung about you tenderly,
Was proud to appear your friend—
CÆSAR.
You have mistaken me.
CLEOPATRA.