There on the pendent boughs her
crownet weeds Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke, When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook.
There on the pendent boughs her
crownet weeds, Clamb'ring to hang, an envious silver broke, When down the weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook.
This grave charm, Whose eye becked forth my wars and called them home, Whose bosom was my
crownet, my chief end, Like a right gipsy hath at fast and loose Beguiled me to the very heart of loss.
There on the pendent boughs her
crownet weeds Clamb'ring to hang, an envious sliver broke, When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook.
As Caesar struggles to claim other kingdoms, Cleopatra asserts that "in [Antony's] livery / Walked crowns and
crownets; realms and islands were / As plates dropped from his pocket" (5.2.89-91).
Against Dolabella's growing discomfort and embarrassment, Cleopatra pits first her wistful longing and loss ("O, such another sleep, that I might see / But such another man!" (76-77)), followed by the enormity of her imagination and admiration ("In his livery / Walked crowns and
crownets. Reahns and islands were / As plates dropped from his pockets" (89-91), and finally her angry insistence, when Dolebella demurs about the possible existence of such a man, on the singular truth of her vision:
Sometime a lovely boy in Dian's shape, With hair that gilds the water as it glides,
Crownets of pearl about his naked arms, And in his sportful hands an olive tree To hide those parts which men delight to see.