Cleo. Why, that's the way To fool their preparation, and to conquer Their most absurd intents.-Now, Charmian?— Enter CHARMIAN. Show me, my women, like a queen ;-Go fetch To play till dooms-day.-Bring our crown and all. Guard. Enter one of the Guard. Here is a rural fellow, That will not be deny'd your highness' presence; He brings you figs. Cleo. Let him come in. How poor an instrument [Exit Guard. May do a noble deed! he brings me liberty. My resolution's plac'd, and I have nothing Of woman in me: Now from head to foot I am marble-constant: now the fleeting moon No planet is of mine. Re-enter Guard, with a Clown bringing a basket. Guard. This is the man. [Exit Guard. Cleo. Avoid, and leave him. Hast thou the pretty worm of Nilus there, Clown. Truly I have him: but I would not be the party that should desire you to touch him, for his biting is immortal; those, that do die of it, do seldom or never recover. Cleo. Remember'st thou any that have died on't? Clown. Very many, men and women too. I heard of one of them no longer than yesterday: a very honest woman, but something given to lie; as a woman should not do, but in the way of honesty: how she died of the biting of it, what pain she felt, -Truly, she makes a very good report o'the worm: But he that will believe all that they say, shall never be saved by half that they do: But this is most fallible, the worm's an odd worm. Cleo. Get thee hence; farewell. Clown. I wish you all joy of the worm. Cleo. Farewell. [Clown sets down the basket. Clown. You must think this, look you, that the worm will do his kind. Cleo. Ay, ay; farewell. Clown. Look you, the worm is not to be trusted, but in the keeping of wise people; for, indeed, there is no goodness in the worm. Cleo. Take thou no care; it shall be heeded. Clown. Very good: give it nothing, I pray you, for it is not worth the feeding. Cleo. Will it eat me? Clown. You must not think I am so simple, but I know the devil himself will not eat a woman: I know, that a woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her not. But, truly, these same whoreson devils do the gods great harm in their women; for in every ten that they make, the devils mar five. Cleo. Well, get thee gone; farewell. Clown. Yes, forsooth; I wish you joy of the worm. Re-enter IRAs, with a robe, crown, &c. [Exit. Cleo. Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have To praise my noble act; I hear him mock I give to baser life.-So,-have you done? Have I the aspick in my lips? Dost fall? Which hurts, and is desir'd. Dost thou lie still? It is not worth leave-taking. |