CLEOPATRA My master and my lord!
CAESAR Not so. Adieu.
Flourish. Exeunt Caesar and his train
CLEOPATRA He words me, girls, he words me, that I should not
Be noble to myself. But hark thee, Charmian.
[She whispers to Charmian]
IRAS Finish, good lady. The bright day is done,
And we are for the dark.
CLEOPATRA [to Charmian] Hie thee again.
I have spoke already, and it is provided.
Go put it to the haste.
CHARMIAN Madam, I will. (5.2.186-192)
A final fulsome, quite possibly sarcastic/ironic but not so much that she won’t get away with it exclamation from Cleopatra to Caesar: my master and my lord! you manly masterful man, you command me in everything! Not so, replies Caesar. Adieu. It can be embarrassment at her over the top address—honestly, no need to overdo it—but it can also be a recognition of her irony and sarcasm, that he does not, in fact, command her, that he is not and can never be her lord and master. (Antony is her lord; she is still her own mistress.) So with a quite possibly bathetic fanfare, Caesar and his train are out of there. No more soldiers, no more Romans, just Cleopatra and her women, at least for a few lines, and so Cleopatra can snap back to herself, not this fawning, self-accusing creature she’s been performing for the last few moments. He words me, girls, he words me, that I should not be noble to myself. It’s all talk, smarmy talk, no substance; he thinks he can bluff and sweet-talk and be diplomatic and courteous and make me acquiesce, just go along with whatever he plans for me. It’s all just empty words. And he thinks that by speaking to me like this, mouthing platitudes, making promises, that I won’t do the noble thing that I intend, that I won’t be true to myself, choose my own fate—that I won’t kill myself. (Has Caesar even thought that this scenario is possible?) But hark thee, Charmian. Come here. I need to tell you something.
Iras’s beautiful line does more than just allow for Cleopatra to say something, unheard, to Charmian. Finish, good lady. It’s really time now, time to end this. Because the bright day is done, and we are for the dark. It’s over – and perhaps if Iras is the younger of the two women, the less sharp on the uptake, then this is the moment when she too realises how it’s going to end, and end soon; there can be a wondering quality to it. Night is falling—and at the Globe it might well have been—and the sun has gone in, and set. It’s time to go, time to sleep. That it’s not simply a day/night or a light/dark opposition makes it all the more striking; there’s the alliteration of day and dark, which is also an antithesis; bright is more interesting than light, and it’s more of a Cleopatra word too, bright, glowing, golden—not light or a lightweight. We, all of us, must enter together into night. We are for the dark.
Iras’s words hang, glowing like the day that they invoke, against the gathering darkness, as Cleopatra’s words to Charmian (ever her right hand) come into focus: hie thee again. Implicit is—when you’ve done this—what she’s saying is, make haste. Do it, and then get back here as fast as you can. I have spoke already, and it is provided. I’ve made all the arrangements, given the orders; everything’s ready. Go put it to the haste. As quick as you can. Madam, I will, says the loyal Charmian, and just in time.