Desdemona, for instance, is just too good to be true. Her depiction is typically idealistic. That I did love the Moor, to live with him, My downright violence and scorn of fortunes, May trumpet to the world. So that, dear lords, if 1 be left behind, A moth of peace, and he go to war, The rites for which I love him, are bereft me: And I a heavy interim shall support By his dear absence. Let me go with him. Her love for Othello is filled with total devotion. She worships her husband without question, which is a love much different from that of a real woman. She fervently declares that she could not live without Othello, thus making her the typically weak feminine figure who succumbs to male dominance. She realizes Othello's unjust accusations but pleads for his understanding, rather than demanding it as would be natural to the situation. She never reacts harshly. My love doth so approve him, that even his stubborness, his cheeks, his frowns, (Prithee unpin me) have grace and favour in them. Desdemona is truly the ideal woman every man dreams of. She is devoted, hopelessly in love, and totally dependent on a man's love. Even at the time of her death, she protects Othello. Emilia: Oh, who hath done this deed? Desdemona: Nobody, 1 myself, farewell. Commend me to my kind lord: oh farewell Thus, in Desdemona's ideal state she becomes totally unrealistic. Ophelia is another predictable character, dependent not only on the manhood of Hamlet, but also upon that of her brother and father. She exists as a figure within that triangle. Ophelia's actions are dictated by her father and brother. She does not move in the play herself. She acts according to the cautions expressed and avowed by her father and brother concerning the danger to which her honor lay. Ophelia is not a strong person, "1 do not know, my lord, what should 1 think?" She constantly seeks advice from her father, indicating her weak nature and her dependence on a male figure. Even during the conversation between Hamlet and Ophelia, Hamlet reacts harshly and is extremely rude to her. Yet, Ophelia remains simple-mindedly acquiescent. Shakespeare's impression of women can be seen through the actions and words of Hamlet toward Ophelia. Get thee to a nunnery, farewell. Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool, for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go, and quickly too. Farewell. "Get thee to a nunnery" is frequently declared by Hamlet in Act III scene 1. This particular quote suggests that women are good only for bearing children, a traditional view held in the history of mankind, varying only slightly from generation to generation. That women are the "breeders of sinners" apparently gives them the sole responsibility for the proliferation of the world in Shakespeare's view. Ophelia's breakdown is the result of her father's death and Hamlet's rejections, in compliance with Shakespeare's view of womanhood, but it is her lack of strength of mind to rely on herself which certainly predicts her death as a dramatic character. Perhaps the most evident lack of perception, purposeful or not, is the characterization of Cleopatra as totally dependent on Antony to succeed as a ruler and as a woman. This apparent lack of depth in his concept of women can be traced to a number of Shakespeare's sonnets where he openly chides the facade of womanhood. So shall I live, supposing thou art true, Like a deceived husband. So love's face May still seem love to me, though altered new, Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place. For there can live no hatred in thine eye, Therefore in that 1 cannot know they change. In many's looks the false heart's history Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles strange, But Heaven in thy creation did decree That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell, Whate'er thy thoughts or thy heart's workings be, Thy looks should nothing thence but sweetness tell. How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show! Sonnet 93 He reiterates the same theme in Sonnet 95 How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame Which, like a canker in the fragrant rose, Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name! Oh, in what sweets dost thou thy sins enclose! Oh, what a mansion have those vices got Which for their habitation chose out thee, Where beauty's veil doth cover every blot And all things turn to fair that eyes can see! And Cleopatra is the master deceiver. She is Shakespeare's most magnificent courtesan. In the opening scene she is seen by the Romans as a "gypsy" whose lust has captured the fancy of a Roman general. She is continually referred to as the "serpent of Egypt" with all the connotations attendant to a snake. She languishes over the love of Antony. Give me mine angle, we'll to the river. There, My music playing far off, I will betray Tawny-finned fishes. My bended hook shall pierce Their slimy jaws, and as I draw them up, I'll think them every one an Antony. Her only thought is to keep Antony by her. Enobarbus tells Antony that leaving Cleopatra to settle grievances in Rome would be disastrous. "The business you have broached here cannot be without you, especially that of Cleopatra's, which wholly depends on your abode." Antony describes in metaphorical terms his relationship with Cleopatra. 2 By certain scales i' the pyramid. They know By the height, the lowness, or the mean if dearth Or foison follow. The higher Nilus swells, The more it promises. As it ebbs, the seedsman Upon the slime and ooze scatters his grain, And shortly comes to harvest Lepidus' response, "Your serpent of Egypt is bred now of your mud by the operation of your sun," is a clear indication that Antony has made Cleopatra blossom. Indeed, the well-being of Egypt is dependent upon his constancy there. Cleopatra at this point has been developed as lovesick, selfish, and possessive, with no regard for anything but pleasure of a sensual type. Even the description by Enobarbus of her entry into the Cydnus River on a golden barge is full of sensual imagery. The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne, Burned on the water. The poop was beaten gold, Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were lovesick with them. The oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, It beggared all description. She did lie In her pavilion, cloth of gold of tissue, O'er picturing that Venus where we see The fancy outwork nature. On each side her Stodd pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, With divers-colored fans, whose wind did seem To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool, And what they undid did. She is irresistable to Antony, whom she lures. As astute a student of history as Shakespeare was, he knew, as did Plutarch, his source, that this trip was to lure a Roman commander with the wealth of Egypt, not sex. As the last of the great Hellenistic rulers of the East, she never lost sight of the possibility of uniting the Alexandrian Empire under the Ptolemaic rule. Antony and his legions needed an alliance with Egypt and its grain to supply troops holding down the Parthian border. Historically, she withheld the grain from Antony until an alliance was reached. Historically, also, there is no question about her ability to command a fleet; it was a tradition begun by her Phoenician ancestors centuries before her day. Yet Shakespeare depicts her as irresponsibly participating in the Battle of Actium, not aware of the impact of her withdrawal. Yon ribaudred nag of Egypt - Whom leprosy o'ertake! i' the midst o' the fight, When vantage like a pair of twins appeared, Both as the same or rather ours the elder The breeze upon her, like a cow in June! Hoists sails and flies. Antony berates Cleopatra for her tactical withdrawal which history has proven to have been a necessary one to split the forces of Octavian in the narrow straights, had not Antony himself presumed it to have been defeat. Antony cries, "All is lost. This fould Egyptian hath betrayed me." And of all unlikely responses, Cleopatra wonders, "Why is my lord enraged against his love?" Even her death, magnificent in pageantry as it is, does little to ennoble her as the tragic figure she was in reality. Her elaborately planned suicide does not in any sense vindicate her Shakespearean role as the royal courtesan who ruled empires from her bedroom. It is full of sexual imagery. Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall? If thou and nature can so gently part The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch Which hurts, and is desired. Dost thou lie still? And Cleopatra races to her death so that Antony will not "make demand of her [Iras], and spend that kiss which is my Heaven to have." Perhaps Shakespeare's ultimate justification for his singularly biased depiction of women is voiced by the clown who in exhorting Cleopatra not to take her life states: You must not think I am so simple but I Know the Devil himself will not eat a woman. I Know that a woman is a dish for the gods, if the Devil dress her not. But truly these same whoreson Devils do the gods great harm in their women, for in Every ten they make, the devils mar five. 3