Cleopatra.
Poor child! Never mind, when Octavian is at my feet you shall be paid [meaningly] in full! Will that satisfy you?
Charmian.
I’d much rather have something on account.
Cleopatra.
I wish you wouldn’t vex me in this way just when it’s so important that I should look my best. You know how unbecoming temper is to a woman when she is ... well, over thirty [beginning to cry].
Charmian.
There, there! I’m sorry I said anything to hurt you. Don’t cry, for Heaven’s sake, or that rouge will run. Then I shall have to go all over you again. Dry your eyes, there’s a good creature. [Cleopatra does so obediently.] I declare you’re all in streaks. Come here, and let me put you straight.
[Cleopatra goes to Charmian, who produces powder-puff etc., and repairs the ravages of emotion.