Such, then, is the Cleopatra of Daniel, a play that, compared even with the contemporary classical dramas of France, belongs to a bygone phase of the art; a play that is no play at all, but a series of harangues interspersed with odds and ends of dialogue and the due choric songs; but that nevertheless, because it fulfils its own ideal so thoroughly, is admirable in its kind, and still has charms for the lover of poetry.
The first act is occupied with a soliloquy of Cleopatra,[60] in which she laments her past pleasure and glory, and proclaims her purpose of death.
Thinke, Caesar, I that liu’d and raign’d a Queene,
Do scorne to buy my life at such a rate,
That I should underneath my selfe be seene,
Basely induring to suruiue my state:
That Rome should see my scepter-bearing hands
Behind me bound, and glory in my teares;
That I should passe whereas Octauia stands,
To view my misery, that purchas’d hers.[61]