CLEOPATRA (stamping at her). How dare you ask questions? Go and do as you are told. (Ftatateeta goes out with a grim smile. Cleopatra goes on eagerly, to Caesar) Caesar will know that I am a Queen when he sees my crown and robes, will he not?
CAESAR. No. How shall he know that you are not a slave dressed up in the Queen’s ornaments?
CLEOPATRA. You must tell him.
CAESAR. He will not ask me. He will know Cleopatra by her pride, her courage, her majesty, and her beauty. (She looks very doubtful.) Are you trembling?
CLEOPATRA (shivering with dread). No, I—I—(in a very sickly voice) No.
Ftatateeta and three women come in with the regalia.
FTATATEETA. Of all the Queen’s women, these three alone are left. The rest are fled. (They begin to deck Cleopatra, who submits, pale and motionless.)
CAESAR. Good, good. Three are enough. Poor Caesar generally has to dress himself.
FTATATEETA (contemptuously). The Queen of Egypt is not a Roman barbarian. (To Cleopatra) Be brave, my nursling. Hold up your head before this stranger.
CAESAR (admiring Cleopatra, and placing the crown on her head). Is it sweet or bitter to be a Queen, Cleopatra?