Could I have obtained anything from him that I haven't already received from you, who has offered me entire kingdoms, and has made me rule over most of Asia? But even if it were true that I could have resigned myself to abandon you to follow his camp, what security could I have found in his words? Where are the offerings he sent me to secure our treaty? Where are the territories he returned to me? What, Antony, could I have trusted in Octavian's word? He who has publicly declared war on me in Rome, and who knows me more under the name of this famous Egyptian, more renowned for her enchantments than for her beauty, than as Cleopatra. What, Antony, could I have trusted him? Would I have chained myself? Would Cleopatra have tied her own hands to the triumphal chariot of her enemy and Antony's enemy? Would she have betrayed a man who has himself betrayed his own nation out of love for her by unprecedented recklessness and ingratitude? A man who became the enemy of his country out of love for her? A man who renounced Octavian's sister rather than abandon her? A man who shared his power with her? A man who preferred his own interests to those of the Roman Empire? A man who offered her his heart without reserve? Ah! No, Antony, all of this is unlikely. 
    It is enough to see all that I have done for you to believe in my innocence. But if I can add another reason, I would say that just like we don’t easily forget the favors received from others, we don't like to lose those we have given. And we rarely want to erase the good services we have rendered to someone with insults. So, reflect on whether it's possible that after having done for you all that I have done, I wish myself to dissipate this memory from your soul and willingly sow hatred in a heart for which I have made so many vows and which I have taken so great care of. Because, if you recall, my dear Antony, you were more my conquest than I was yours. Fame had already given me a portrait of you which, inspiring admiration in me, pushed me to triumph over the conqueror of all others by triumphing over you. My eyes have won honorable victories, and among their captives, they can count Caesars and demigods whose charm I did not, however, trust. My beauty was doubtful on that occasion, I believed it too weak to conquer you. And since you were the most magnificent of men, I wanted love to enter your heart through wonder, and the day of his capture to look more like a day of victory than a day of combat. So, I wanted to dazzle you with the beauty of my weapons. Because, if you recall, my dear Antony, the first day I saw you, I appeared on a ship with a golden stern, purple sails, and silver oars. They followed the sound of various instruments playing together. I was under a gold-woven pavilion, and as I knew your lineage was divine, descended from Hercules, I had, as you know, an attire similar to the one offered to Venus. All my women were beautifully dressed as nymphs, and a hundred angels around me owed their presence to my desire to conquer you. So finally, my dear Antony, this small army was made only for you. So, it wasn't the fruit of chance.
  
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