CLEOPATRA   [To Seleucus] Prithee, go hence,

Or I shall show the cinders of my spirits

Through th’ashes of my chance. Wert thou a man

Thou wouldst have mercy on me.

CAESAR                                  Forbear, Seleucus.

[Exit Seleucus]

CLEOPATRA   Be it known that we, the greatest, are misthought

For things that others do; and when we fall

We answer others’ merits in our name,

Are therefore to be pitied.   (5.2.168-175)

Prithee, go hence: Cleopatra’s politeness is bitterly sarcastic, alright then, please, go on, get out of my sight. Or I shall show the cinders of my spirits through th’ashes of my chance. I may be down, but I’m not out; if you stay here any longer you’ll kindle my rage, arouse my temper, even though my fortunes seem to have turned to dust and ashes, even though my fire seems out, dead and cold. Go on, get out! Wert thou a man thou wouldst have mercy on me: if you weren’t a eunuch (which suggests that he needs to be recognisable as such? like Mardian?) you’d show more feeling, behave better, with more courtesy. Caesar attempts to restore some dignity to proceedings, and also control: forbear, Seleucus. Er, could you leave us, please?

Cleopatra has more to say, though, a rueful moralisation which is both feigned and true. And it’s a way of aligning herself with Caesar, and also subtly undermining him—or she could simply be using her accustomed royal plural? Whatever, isn’t it a bitch being the one in charge? You can’t do anything right. Be it known that we, the greatest, are misthought for things that others do. It’s always the same way, if you’re powerful, of high status, you’ll get the blame, it’ll be assumed that you’re responsible even if it’s someone else’s fault entirely. Always misinterpreted, misunderstood! And when we fall, we answer others’ merits in our name, are therefore to be pitied. It’s the same when we’ve lost whatever power we had; we still get the blame for everything, we’re held accountable, whether it’s good or bad. Whatever the situation, we can’t win, can we?