CAESAR                      Hear me, good friends—

Enter an Egyptian

But I will tell you at some meeter season.

The business of this man looks out of him;

We’ll hear him what he says.—Whence are you?

EGYPTIAN      A poor Egyptian, yet the Queen my mistress,

Confined in all she has, her monument,

Of thy intents desires instruction,

That she preparedly may frame herself

To th’ way she’s forced to.                (5.1.48-56)

Hear me, good friends: Caesar seems ready to make a more public statement on the death of Antony, and to announce what it means for his campaign and his own position. But he’s interrupted by yet another messenger, here simply an anonymous Egyptian, although a production might choose to supply a character already known and recognisable in this role. But I will tell you at some meeter season, therefore, says Caesar; what I have to say must wait until a more convenient time. As ever, Caesar wants to be ahead of the game, responding to developments as quickly as possible, and the business of this man looks out of him; it’s clear that this messenger brings urgent and important news, and so we’ll hear him what he says, listen to what he has to say immediately. Whence are you? Whom do you come from? Whose message do you carry? The messenger is at pains to establish that he’s a nobody, no use as a hostage, for instance, not worthy of any particular attention or sanction, being but a poor Egyptian. (Safer that way: messengers in this play have all too often been shot, metaphorically if not literally.) Even though he’s only a poor Egyptian, however, the messenger comes directly from the Queen, his mistress—from Cleopatra herself. And she is confined in all she has, her monument: her tomb, the tomb of her ancestors, is all that now remains to her of her kingdom, her identity, and her power. Shut up there, of thy intents she desires instruction: all she wants to know is what you’re planning to do, specifically to do to her. What is to be her fate? and she wants to know this that she preparedly may frame herself to th’ way she’s forced to. She wants to be able to prepare herself, implicitly to prepare herself to die. Is Cleopatra stalling, misdirecting, seizing the initiative? Her own intention, of taking her own life, has already been made clear—although with Cleopatra there’s always the possibility that she’s changed her mind—but there’s still at least some pleasure in putting Caesar on the spot, making him confront the realities of the situation, the realities of his power. What does he intend to do with her?