  It might have been thought that Shakespeare’s “Antony and Cleopatra” rather than Mr. Bernard Shaw’s “CÆsar and Cleopatra” demanded a dramatic sequel, but as Mr. Shaw has pointed out repeatedly that he is the greater dramatist of the two, his play has been chosen in preference to Shakespeare’s. A prefatory essay proving—at great length—that the dialogue of this sequel is true to life, and is in fact substantially a reproduction of what was spoken in the year B.C. 31, has been omitted for lack of space. OCTAVIAN AND CLEOPATRA.Scene.—An extravagantly furnished apartment in the Palace at Alexandria. Cleopatra is discovered seated upon her throne. She is dressed with mournful splendour, as befits a queen who has been defeated at Actium and has suffered a recent bereavement. Her face is as attractive as a liberal use of cosmetics can make it, and her whole appearance is that of a middle-aged and rather dissipated member of the corps de ballet who has gone into half-mourning because the manager has reduced her salary. Charmian, a pretty, shrewish-looking damsel, is in attendance on her. Cleopatra. [Nervously.] Am I looking my best, Charmian? Charmian. [Sulkily.] Your majesty is looking as well as I can make you. If you are not satisfied you had better get another maid. Cleopatra. [Looking at herself in hand mirror.] Silly child! Of course I am satisfied. I think you are wonderful. Charmian. [Mollified.] Yes. I think I’ve not done so badly. Cleopatra. Of course, with Antony not even buried yet, it would hardly have done for me to be too magnificent. Charmian. [Decidedly]. Most unsuitable. Cleopatra. As it is, I think we’ve arrived at a rather successful blend of splendour and sorrow, suggesting at once the afflicted widow and the queen who is open to consolation. Charmian. That is certainly the impression we intended to convey. By the way, when does CÆsar arrive? Cleopatra. Octavian? Almost at once. Charmian. His first visit, isn’t it? Cleopatra. Yes. So much depends on a first impression. [Looks at mirror again.] I think we shall captivate him. Charmian. [Dubiously.] He’s not very impressionable, I hear. Cleopatra. No. But I shall manage it. Think how completely I fascinated Julius. Charmian. His uncle? I’m afraid that’s hardly a reason why you should prove equally attractive to the nephew. Cleopatra. My dear child, why not? Charmian. Well—the lapse of time, you know. That was seventeen years ago. Cleopatra. So long? I am really very well preserved. Charmian Considering the wear and tear. Cleopatra. My good Charmian, how crudely you put things. I declare I’ve a good mind to have you executed. Charmian. [Tranquilly.] Your majesty will hardly do that. I am the only person in Egypt who really understands the secret of your majesty’s complexion. Cleopatra. That’s true. But you ought to be more tactful. Charmian. [Tossing her head.] You can’t expect me to display tact when my wages haven’t been paid since the battle of Actium. Cleopatra. Poor child! Never mind, when Octavian is at my feet you shall be paid [meaningly] in full! Will that satisfy you? Charmian. I’d much rather have something on account. Cleopatra. I wish you wouldn’t vex me in this way just when it’s so important that I should look my best. You know how unbecoming temper is to a woman when she is ... well, over thirty [beginning to cry]. Charmian. There, there! I’m sorry I said anything to hurt you. Don’t cry, for Heaven’s sake, or that rouge will run. Then I shall have to go all over you again. Dry your eyes, there’s a good creature. [Cleopatra does so obediently.] I declare you’re all in streaks. Come here, and let me put you straight. [Cleopatra goes to Charmian, who produces powder-puff etc., and repairs the ravages of emotion. Cleopatra. Quick, quick! They’re coming. I hear them. I’m glad he’s so early. Only a quarter of an hour after his time. [Proudly] That shows how eager he is to see me! I feel that this is going to be another of my triumphs. [Charmian puts the finishing touch to the Queen just as CÆsar enters. She then hastily conceals powder-puff, etc., behind her. Cl Octavian. [Looking round the gorgeous apartment with much disgust, and speaking in a soft, weary voice.] Ugh! Bad taste, very bad taste all this. Agrippa. You know what these barbarians are. [To the two women.] Kindly inform the Queen CÆsar is here. Cleopatra. [Advancing.] I am the Queen. How do you do? Agrippa. You! Nonsense! Cleopatra. [Archly.] Oh, yes, I am. Octavian. [With gentle melancholy.] Dear, dear, another illusion gone! Cleopatra. Illusion? Octavian. Your beauty, you know; your grace, your charm. I had heard so much of them. So had Agrippa. Let me introduce you, by the way. Agrippa—Cleopatra. [Wearily.] As I was saying, it is most disappointing. Agrippa. [Gruffly.] Not what I expected at all! [Charmian giggles furtively. Cleopatra. [Puzzled.] You—don’t admire me? Octavian. [Gently.] Admire you? My dear lady! Cleopatra. [Bridling.] Antony was of a different opinion. Agrippa. [Bluntly.] Antony was a fool. Octavian. Hush, my dear Agrippa! You hurt her feelings. [Agrippa shrugs his shoulders and crosses to Charmian, with whom he begins a vigorous flirtation. Cleopatra. [Angrily.] Never mind my feelings. Octavian. Frankly then, dear lady, we are not impressed. We came here prepared for a beautiful temptress, a dazzling siren whom I must resist or perish, something seductive, enticing. And what do we find? Cleopatra. [Furious.] Well, what do you find. Octavian. [In his gentlest voice.] Dear lady, don’t let us pursue this painful subject. Probably we had not allowed for the flight of time. Suffice it that our poor hopes are unrealised. [Looking round] But I don’t see CÆsarion. Cleopatra. [Sullenly.] My son is not here. Octavian. Another disappointment. Cleopatra. You wished to speak to him? Octavian. Yes. They talk of him as a son of Julius, don’t they? Cleopatra. He is a son of Julius. Octavian. A sort of relation of mine, then? I must really make his acquaintance. Can you give me his address? Cleopatra. [Sulkily.] No. If you want him, you will have to find him for yourself. Octavian. [Blandly.] I shall find him, dearest Queen. You need be under no apprehensions about that. Cleopatra. Brute! Octavian. Eh? Cleopatra. Nothing. I was only thinking. Octavian. Never think aloud, dear lady. It’s a dangerous habit. Cleopatra. [Impatiently.] Is there anything further you want with me? Octavian. [Affably.] Nothing, thank you, nothing. At least, nothing just now. Cleopatra. You would like to see me later? Octavian. [Gentler than a sucking dove.] In a few weeks, perhaps. The Triumph, you know. The sovereign people throwing up their caps and hallooing. The Procession up the Sacred Way, with the headsman at the end of it all. [Yawning slightly.] The usual thing. Cleopatra. [Losing her temper.] Oh, you’re not a man at all! You’re a block, a stone! You have no blood in your veins. You’re not like Antony. Octavian. No, dear lady, I’m not like Antony. If I were, I shouldn’t have beaten him at Actium. Cleopatra. I won’t stay to be baited in this way. I won’t! I won’t! [Goes towards door. Octavian. [Gallantly.] Farewell, then. We shall meet again. Agrippa, the Queen is going. Agrippa. [Breaking off in the midst of his flirtation.] Eh? Oh, good-bye. Cleopatra. [Stamping her foot.] Charmian! [Exit. [Charmian jumps up, kisses her hand to Agrippa and follows her mistress out. Agrippa. [Looking after her.] That’s a pretty little minx. Octavian. [Who has seated himself wearily on the throne.] Is she? I didn’t notice ... CÆsarion’s fled. Agrippa. So I supposed. Octavian. It’s a great nuisance. We must find him. Will you see about it? Agrippa. If you wish it. What shall I do with him? Octavian. [In his tired voice.] Better put him to death. It will save a lot of trouble in the end. Agrippa. But the boy’s your own cousin. Octavian. Yes. I have always disliked my relations. Agrippa. [Admiringly.] I begin to think you are a genius, CÆsar, after all. Octavian. I am. Much good it does me! I’d give my genius for your digestion any day. [Leans back on throne and closes his eyes. [Enter Charmian hurriedly, looking pale and dishevelled. Charmian. Help! Help! The Queen is dying! Octavian. [Irritably, opening his eyes.] Stop that noise, girl! You make my head ache. Charmian. She is dying, I tell you! She has taken poison! [Exit, squealing. Agrippa. Poison, by Jove! Confound it, she mustn’t do that, must she? [Is about to follow Charmian. Octavian. Why not? It seems to me an excellent arrangement. Very thoughtful of her. Very thoughtful and considerate. Agrippa. But we want her for that Triumph of yours. Octavian. Never mind. After all, what is a Triumph? Disagreeable for her. A bore for us. Let her die now, by all means, if she prefers it. Agrippa. [Impatiently.] Don’t you try and be magnanimous too. Leave that to your uncle. He did it better. Octavian. [Wearily.] My dear Agrippa, how stupid you are! What possible use can a quite plain and middle-aged lady be in a triumphal procession? If Cleopatra were still attractive I should say, “Save her, by all means.” As she isn’t, [yawning] I think we may let her die her own way without being charged with excessive magnanimity. Agrippa. [ Octavian. Ah! I shall be quite contented to see her comfortably in her coffin in Egypt. We’ll let her be buried beside Antony. It will gratify the Egyptians, and it won’t [Exit Agrippa. Octavian leans back, and falls asleep on the throne. Curtain. |
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