Peace, peace Mrs Jameson (ii, 155): The magical play of fancy and the overpowering fascination of the character are kept up to the last: and when Cleopatra, on applying the asp, silences the lamentations of her women—‘Peace! peace! Dost thou not see my baby at my breast, That sucks the nurse to sleep?’ These few words—the contrast between the tender beauty of the image and the horror of the situation—produce an affect more intensely mournful than all the ranting in the world. The generous devotion of her women adds to the moral charm which alone was wanting: and when Octavius hurries in too late to save his victim, and exclaims when gazing on her—‘She looks like sleep—As she would catch another Antony In her strong toil of grace,’ the image of her beauty and her irresistible arts, triumphant even in death, is at once brought before us, and one masterly and comprehensive stroke consummates this most wonderful, most dazzling delineation.
William Shakespeare. Horace Howard Furness. A New Variorum Edition of Shakespeare: The Tragedie of Anthonie, and Cleopatra. Philadelphia and London. J. B. Lippincott Company. 1907.
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