Chapter 13Act IV, Scene 1

Act IV The Palace in Antioch. Before the hills. Scene 1 Cleopatra’s chamber. Cleopatra, Zo¨yla. CLEOPATRA Will he not come this morning? How my head aches! Zo¨yla, smooth the pain out of it, my girl, With your deft fingers. Oh, he lingers, lingers! Cleone keeps him still, the rosy harlot Who rules him now. She is grown a queen and reigns Insulting me in my own palace. Yes, He’s happy in her arms; why should he care for me Who am only his mother? ZO¨YLA Is the pain less at all? CLEOPATRA O, it goes deeper, deeper. Ever new revels, While still the clang of fratricidal war Treads nearer to his palace. Zo¨yla, You saw him with Cleone in the groves That night of revel? ZO¨YLA So I told you, madam. It is long since Daphne’s groves have gleamed so bright

Rodogune Or trembled to such music. CLEOPATRA They were together? ZO¨YLA Oh, constantly. One does not see such lovers. CLEOPATRA (shaking her off) Go! ZO¨YLA Madam? CLEOPATRA Thy touch is not like Rodogune’s Nor did her gentle voice offend me. Eunice, Zo¨yla retires. Why hast thou left me, cruel cold Eunice? She walks to the window and returns swiftly. God’s spaces frighten me. I am so lonely In this great crowded palace. Timocles enters the room reading a despatch. TIMOCLES He rushes onward like a god of war. Mountains and streams and deserts waterless Are grown our foes, his helpers. The gods give ground Before his horse-hooves. Millions of men arrayed in complete steel Cannot restrain him. Almost we hear in Antioch His trumpets now. Only Nicanor and the hills Hardly protect my crown, my brittle crown! CLEOPATRA Antiochus comes!

Act IV, Scene 1 TIMOCLES The Macedonian legions Linger somewhere upon the wide Aegean. Sea And land contend against my monarchy. Your brother sends no certain word. CLEOPATRA It will come. Could not the Armenian helpers stay his course? They came like locusts. TIMOCLES But are swept away As with a wind. O mother, fatal mother, Why did you keep me from the battle then? My presence might have spurred men’s courage on And turned this swallowing fate. It is alone Your fault if I lose crown and life. CLEOPATRA My son! TIMOCLES There, mother, I have made you weep. I love you, Dear mother, though I make you often weep. CLEOPATRA I have not blamed you, my sweet Timocles. I did the wrong. Go to the field, dear son, And show yourself to Syria. Timocles, I mean no hurt, but now, only just now, Would not a worthier presence at your side Assist you? My royal brother of Macedon Would give his child to you at my desire, Or you might have your fair Egyptian cousin Berenice. Syria would honour you, my son.

Rodogune TIMOCLES I know your meaning. You are so jealous, mother. Why do you hate Cleone, grudging me The solace of her love? I shall lose Syria And I have lost already Rodogune: Cleone clings to me. Nor is her heart Like yours, selfish and jealous. CLEOPATRA Timocles! TIMOCLES (walking to the window) O Rodogune, where hast thou taken those eyes, My moonlit midnight, where that wondrous hair In which I thought to live as in a cloud Of secret sweetness? Under the Syrian stars Somewhere thou liest in my brother’s arms, Thy pale sweet happy face upon his breast Smiling up to be kissed. O, it is hell, The thought is hell! At midnight in the silence I wake in warm Cleone’s rosy clasp To think of thee embraced; then in my blood A fratricidal horror works. Let it not be, You gods! Let me die first, let him be king. O mother, do not let us quarrel any more: Forgive me and forget. CLEOPATRA You go from me? TIMOCLES My heart is heavy. I will drink awhile And hear sweet harmonies. CLEOPATRA There in the hall And with Cleone?

Act IV, Scene 1 TIMOCLES Let it not anger you. Yes, with Cleone. He goes. CLEOPATRA I am alone, so terribly alone!