Tell me how they met?
Eros.
I will: And first then you must know that Marc
Met Cleopatra driving in the park.
The trap she sat in, like the Sun-God’s car,
Shone in the drive, the seats were damask white,
Tawny the rugs, and all so scented, that
The swells sniffed curiously. Her whip of silver,
Half parasol, which dared the sun; and flicked
The ponies, which she beat to trot the faster,