Of eyes again so royal. Your crown’s awry;
I’ll mend it, and then play.
(V. ii. 319.)
Thereupon she too applies the asp and provokes its fang.
O, come apace, dispatch.
(V. ii. 325.)
Even in the last solemn moment there is vanity, artifice, and voluptuousness in Cleopatra. She is careful of her looks, of her state, of her splendour, even in death; and doubtless would have smiled if she could have heard Caesar’s tardy praise:
She looks like sleep,
As she would catch another Antony
In her strong toil of grace.