Cleo. My Master, and my Lord
Caesar. Not so: Adieu.
Flourish. Exeunt Caesar, and his Traine.
Cleo. He words me Gyrles, he words me,
That I should not be Noble to my selfe.
But hearke thee Charmian
Iras. Finish good Lady, the bright day is done,
And we are for the darke
Cleo. Hye thee againe,
I haue spoke already, and it is prouided,
Go put it to the haste
Char. Madam, I will.
Enter Dolabella.
Dol. Where's the Queene?
Char. Behold sir
Cleo. Dolabella
Dol. Madam, as thereto sworne, by your command
(Which my loue makes Religion to obey)
I tell you this: Caesar through Syria
Intends his iourney, and within three dayes,
You with your Children will he send before,
Make your best vse of this. I haue perform'd
Your pleasure, and my promise