and arrogance of the Egyptian queen, the blandishment of the woman, the unexpected but natural transitions of temper and feeling, the contest of various passions, and at length-when the wild hurricane has spent its fury-the melting into tears, faintness, and languishment, are portrayed with the most astonishing power, and truth, and skill in feminine nature. More wonderful still is the splendour and force of colouring which is spread over this extraordinary scene. The mere idea of an angry woman beating her menial, presents something ridiculous or disgusting to the mind; in a queen or a tragedy heroine it is still more indecorous;' yet this scene is as far as possible from the vulgar or the comic. Cleopatra seems privileged to "touch the brink of all we hate" with impunity. This imperial termagant, this "wrangling queen, whom every thing becomes," becomes even her fury. We 1 The well-known violence and coarseness of Queen Elizabeth's manners, in which she was imitated by the women about her, may in Shakspeare's time have rendered the image of a royal virago less offensive and less extraordinary. know not by what strange power it is, that in the midst of all these unruly passions and childish caprices, the poetry of the character, and the fanciful and sparkling grace of the delineation are sustained and still rule in the imagination; but we feel that it is so. I need hardly observe, that we have historical authority for the excessive violence of Cleopatra's temper. Witness the story of her boxing the ears of her treasurer, in presence of Octavius, as related by Plutarch. Shakspeare has made a fine use of this anecdote also towards the conclusion of the drama, but it is not equal in power to this scene with the messenger. The man is afterwards brought back, almost by force, to satisfy Cleopatra's jealous anxiety, by a description of Octavia :but this time, made wise by experience, he takes care to adapt his information to the humours of his imperious mistress, and gives her a satirical picture of her rival. The scene which follows, in which Cleopatraartful, acute, and penetrating as she isbecomes the dupe of her feminine spite and jealousy, nay, assists in duping herself; and after having cuffed the messenger for telling her truths which are offensive, rewards him for the falsehood which flatters her weakness-is not only an admirable exhibition of character, but a fine moral lesson. She concludes, after dismissing the messenger with gold and thanks, I repent me much That I so harry'd him. Why, methinks by him O nothing, madam. CHARMIAN. CLEOPATRA. The man hath seen some majesty, and should know! Do we not fancy Cleopatra drawing herself up with all the vain consciousness of rank and beauty, as she pronounces this last line? and is not this the very woman who celebrated her own apotheosis,-who arrayed herself in the robe and diadem of the goddess Isis, and could find no titles magnificent enough for her children but those of the Sun and the Moon? The despotism and insolence of her temper are touched in some other places most admirably. Thus, when she is told that the Romans libel and abuse her, she exclaims, Sink Rome, and their tongues rot And when one of her attendants observes, that "Herod of Jewry dared not look upon her but when she were well pleased," she immediately replies, "That Herod's head I'll have." 1 When Proculeius surprises her in her monument, and snatches her poniard from her, terror and fury, pride, passion, and disdain, swell in her haughty soul, and seem to shake her very being. CLEOPATRA. Where art thou, death? Come hither, come! come, come and take a queen Worth many babes and beggars! PROCULEIUS. O temperance, lady? 1 She was as good as her word. See the Life of Antony in Plutarch. CLEOPATRA. Sir, I will eat no meat; I'll not drink, sir: If idle talk will once be necessary, I'll not sleep neither; this mortal house I'll ruin, Do Cæsar what he can! Know, sir, that I Will not wait pinion'd at your master's court, Nor once be chastis'd with the sober eye Rather a ditch in Egypt Rather on Nilus, mud Lay me stark naked, and let the water-flies In the same spirit of royal bravado, but finer still, and worked up with a truly Oriental exuberance of fancy and imagery, is her famous description of Antony, addressed to Dolabella: Most noble empress, you have heard of me? I cannot tell. CLEOPATRA. DOLABELLA. Assuredly, you know me. CLEOPATRA. No matter, sir, what I have heard or known. VOL. II. L |