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Section 199
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Cleo.
Oh Charmion:
Where think'st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he?
Or does he walke? Or is he on his Horse?
Oh happy horse to beare the weight of Anthony!
Do brauely Horse, for wot'st thou whom thou moou'st,
The demy Atlas of this Earth, the Arme
And Burganet of men. Hee's speaking now,
Or murmuring, where's my Serpent of old Nyle,
(For so he cals me:) Now I feede my selfe
With most delicious poyson. Thinke on me
That am with Phœbus amorous pinches blacke,
And wrinkled deepe in time. Broad‑fronted Cæsar,
When thou was't heere aboue the ground, I was
A morsell for a Monarke: and great Pompey
Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow,