CW: suicide
CAESAR Bid her have good heart.
She soon shall know of us, by some of ours,
How honourable and how kindly we
Determine for her. For Caesar cannot lean
To be ungentle.
EGYPTIAN So; the gods preserve thee!
Exit
CAESAR Come hither, Proculeius. Go, and say
We purpose her no shame. Give her what comforts
The quality of her passion shall require,
Lest in her greatness, by some mortal stroke,
She do defeat us; for her life in Rome
Would be eternal in our triumph. Go,
And with your speediest bring us what she says
And how you find of her.
PROCULEIUS Caesar, I shall.
Exit Proculeius (5.1.56-68)
Caesar stalls for time a bit, put on the spot as to what he plans to do with Cleopatra, and determined to remain in control and to be seen to remain in control. Bid her have good heart, he says to the messenger; tell her not to worry. She soon shall know of us, by some of ours, how honourable and how kindly we determine for her. We’ll let her know very soon—via our own people; not going to send any messages via some random Egyptian—just how well we’re going to treat her. It can be double-edged: Caesar’s not explicitly promising Cleopatra to behave kindly and honourably towards her, rather that she’ll know soon enough how he’ll treat her. What matters more is his tone, smooth, confident, and magnanimous, and firmly in the royal (or rather imperial) plural; he’s saying this as much to his supporters, who are watching him closely for any sign of weakness or indecision, as to Cleopatra. For Caesar cannot lean to be ungentle: now he’s referring to himself in the third person, and perish the thought that he ever incline to harshness, or even discourtesy. So; the gods preserve thee. Alright, says the messenger, fair enough, and good luck to you. Relieved to be out of there.
Caesar actions this straightaway. Come hither, Proculeius—ah, the one man Antony told Cleopatra she could trust. Go, and say we purpose her no shame; we’re not going to humiliate her. Whether this is true or not, Caesar knows that this is perhaps Cleopatra’s greatest fear, and he doesn’t want to precipitate her suicide. He wants her alive. Give her what comforts the quality of her passion shall require: say and do whatever it takes to reassure her, depending on her mood. Promise her anything, pretty much. And then he comes to the point: lest in her greatness, by some mortal stroke, she do defeat us. If she’s able to seize the initiative, take control of the situation and kill herself, then we’ve lost—so don’t give her the opportunity or the motive. For her life in Rome would be eternal in our triumph! I want her alive! I want to parade her in triumph through the streets of Rome, my greatest trophy and prize! So go, and with your speediest bring us what she says and how you find of her. Quick as you can, bring let me know how she takes it, and what kind of state she’s in. Caesar, I shall, says Proculeius.