Narrator: We begin with a gargle amid that bed where has been entertained so many of the great men of history.
(Anthony empties his bladder into Cleopatra's mouth, who delightedly gargles Anthony's micturation and then swallows.)
C: I do wish you would use the other end.
A: I.... need to grow bigger balls before I do that.
C: You need to grow bigger balls? I'm the one who's begging you to shit in my mouth!
A: How can you have a taste for that?
C: There's a lot you didn't know about Julie.
A: He? Liked to, farcockt in you?
C: No! He liked me doing it to him.
A: He liked... Fuck... If that ever got out?...
C: He didn't care...
A: And you did it too?
C: I was curious!
A: And you liked it??
C: It's not the most disgusting thing that's ever been in me.
A: Alright, you need to be quiet.
(Anthony puts his phallus in Cleopatra's mouth and fucks it while Cleopatra makes noises in her throat 'GAW GAW GAW GAW GAW GAW GAW!)
A: I'm telling you, the Briton girls don't make noises like that.
C: (talking while phallus still in mouth) "What noises do they make?
A: Who?
C: The Britons.
A: I don't they even had sex before Rome got there.
C: What about the Gauls?
A: What about who?
C: The Gauls.
A: Oh... they make even dirtier noises.
C: The Germans?
A: They do dirtier things than you've ever done.
C: The Slavs?
A: They're too drunk to do much of anything...
C: The Israelites?
A: Depends on if it's before or after they're married...
C: What happens after they're married?
A: Apparently you never have sex again.
C: Why is that?
A: Jews seem to have a very love/hate relationship with sex.
C: Well they do punish sodomy.
A: What? (takes phallus out of mouth)
C: The Jews, they punish sodomy.
A: Oh... yeah I heard something about that... So... now that I can hear what you're saying you fancy a bit of that right now?
C: What?
A: Sodomy!
C: Oh! I'd love it, you first though... (Cleopatra stands up to reveal she's wearing a wooden dildus) ... (speaking to the servant in the corner of the room) "Menefer where's the shaving cream?
M: The tub's on the bed right next to your other dildii."
(Cleopatra starts stroking the dildus up and down with shaving cream)
C: Octavia never did this for you right?
A: Never, but she never loved me.
C: I'm playing the world's smallest lute for you."
(Cleopatra sticks it in)
A: Ah... ah... AHHHHHHHH THAT'S NO LUTE!...
C: You said the other one was too small!
(Cleopatra begins premensing his anus)
A: THIS one's Perfect!
C: HOW many ROman WHORES are THIS GIVing?
A: There's... buggery... in the love... that... can't be reckoned."
C: (Cleopatra increases the speed) The BREAking OF so GREAT a THING should MAKE a GREATer CRACK!
A: AAAAAAAAAHHH AHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
(Cleopatra pulls out)
A: Not so quick my love or I very well may shit in your mouth.
C: (Cleopatra unfastens the dildo) Why don't you take a taste of what I want you to do.
A: Does my lady so order it?
(Cleopatra shoves the dildo in Anthony's mouth and he throws up.)
C: How was it?
A: Do it again!
(Cleopatra moves the dildo in and out of Anthony's mouth.)
C: I needed protection against the Parthians, and you were never the diplomat in this relationship.
A: (with dildus still in mouth) "And you liked it?
C: Marcus Antonius,... what's the worst thing you've ever tasted?"
A: (Anthony moves his head out of the way from the dildus) Probably this dish in Palestina, it's calves feet in jelly.
C: Oh! P'tcha.
A: Yeah! That's right! Pitcha! Our accountant says the Israelites call it that because that's the noise they make after they taste it.
C: Tony, come on, seriously, is this the first time you ever vomited?
A: After half my meals!
C: Have you ever bit into rotten food?
A: When my food taster sucks...
C: Have you ever tasted mud? Dried blood?
A: Every battle drill.
C: When you were on your vineyard, did you ever get fertilizer in you mouth?
A: Pretty disgusting, sure.
C: Have you ever bit your tongue?
A: Oh that hurts more than a sword to the stomach.
C: Have you torn your Achilles?
A: No but I've torn plenty of others'.
C: Have you passed a kidney stone?
A: No but some senators pass them all the time. The vomitorium isn't fun those days.
C: You've clearly been burned.
A: Three times in the field.
C: Have you ever had a tooth ache?
A: Thank the gods, no. I hear that's the most painful thing on earth.
C: Alright, well I've experienced things far more painful than a toothache, and after a tooth ache, excramentum in your mouth is thrilling.
A: What does it taste like?
C: It tastes like shit. That's not the point.
A: What's the point?
C: The point is that you've just eaten the most disgusting thing known to man, you live to tell about it, and even if you smell awful, you're not in pain, and that's the best feeling on earth.
A: I don't know why, but I'm turned on right now... how about something more traditional?
(Anthony puts his phallus into Cleopatra's vaginae while putting fingers in her anus, a hand clasped with all his might over her mouth against the pillow, and biting down hard on her nipples, she screams with what seems to be pleasure).
(It would once again seem that the fragments we have are that of a greater metanarrative. In the first fragment, it would seem that Cleopatra is written as a kind of Egyptian whore, perhaps for a satyr within a Greek bawdy house, whereas the rest is a narrative of much more lofty sentiment. One might suppose this the narrative of an extremely ambitious epician in 5th Century Byzantium, and yet, while the original text prints this fragment in Greek letters, the words they spell are the common tongue of Ancient Egypt in thoroughly idiomatic 1st Century BC grammar. This circumstance is further complicated by the fact that the Egyptian court in principle spoke Greek. It is highly to be so doubted, particularly because it contravenes so much of the historical record, but however infinitesimal, there is a possibility that the rest of this tale may be none other than the authentic last testament Cleopatra herself before suicide in a letter to her children.
Dr. Richard Westenbach - Free University Berlin, 1952)
....I had no ear for music but loved the theater and was a great actor so long as no singing requirement. What I really loved was drawing, and even at eight was so passionate for theater that I drew elaborate stage sets and recited Antigone's monologue for the manager of the Royal Alexandrine Theater. I knew I was good, but actors at court would train for eighteen years, yet there was the company manager telling my father the Pharaoh that I displayed once-in-a-generation's talent. I have no idea if it was an artist's eye or an actor's lie, but I can't possibly have been that good, could I? Irregardless, the company affected such faith that I acted in a production of Euripides for my father's pleasure. It was onstage that General Pompey first saw me.
The play was The Bacchae. Queen Agave was played by a man, but in the throne room of my father, I was allowed to play Pentheus, the king torn to pieces by women. Pompey was in Egypt to extract protection money from the Pharaoh, to maintain ruse he was being paid to protect Egypt from enemies when, in fact, Rome was the enemy the Pharaoh was paying not to attack. My father, Ptolemy XII, had been made extraordinarily rich by the investments of his court minister, Enoch-bar-Joseph, but our Egypt suffered dysfunction for a thousand years, and by the grace of Juno we are still a kingdom; but whether kingdom or fifedom, Egypt had neither the army nor the arms to fight Rome. My father, next to General Crassus the richest man in the world, offered Pompey no less than half our fortune to refrain from attack, but Pompey refused the offer. He'd seen me onstage and what he really wanted was a weekend in my company. I was 9.
My older sister killed herself a year later, and to spare my father shame at court, it was announced Egypt's next co-sovereign died of a chill. Thereupon was I forced at 10 to wife my older brother. Eleven months later, my father died of that same chill... While my brother-husband was stupid, I'd displayed all manner of scholastic aptitude, so it was decided that he'd go off to sport and whore every day, while I'd be ferried down the Nile to be educated amid the Library of Alexandria and its 500,000 scrolls, with understanding that I'd be the one true Pharaoh when I turned eighteen in all but name. To this day, the library and its glories are my true husband.
For six years I studied seventeen hours every day. Assignments incomplete in allotted time would result in beating. I learned the full measure of grammar, logic. rhetoric, arithmetic, music, astronomy, and geometry. I spoke Greek with family and court and was fluent by servants in Coptic from first speech. I spoke fluent in Latin by eleven, Nubian by twelve, Aramaic by thirteen, Numidian by fourteen, and Hebrew by sixteen. I was compelled to memorize whole volumes of Homer - Odyssey 9-12 and the entire last third of the Iliad. I must have read three hundred critical commentaries from end to end.
Along with this useless literary merit, I learned the mythology of our pagan world, Grecian and Egyptian. My tutor instructed: "Think of the Gods not as beings apart but your daily company. They are the only true peers who understand the divine burdens of thronely life." He too assigned the literature of other countries: their philosophies, their sacred texts, their theologies, theogmonies, and theophanies.
My tutor, Philostratus, was a eunuch. Yet when I was sixteen he cornered me in a library stack: "My crownest princess, it is expected that boys have affairs with their tutors, why not girls? No education is truly complete without sex." I was married already for six years, deflowered for seven, briefly a mother at twelve. Never had I known happiness conjugal nor connubial and what option had I more attractive? Philostratus was more husband to me than my brother. "But you're a eunuch, how can you possibly instruct me?" "All the more way I can."
My education effectively ended at sixteen when, rather than learn history, we embarked upon a course of learning which, unburdened by the need for ejaculate nor care for pregnancy, engaged sexual congress for those seventeen hours a day. This ugly, fat, sweaty man, twice and a half my size, finished my education, but had I learned history rather than sex, we might have outfoxed the Roman burden. I was not for a moment attracted to Philostratus, I shall not deny that sensations he imparted made me hungrily curious, and he told me to picture in his stead any man I liked 'as all good wives do.' He was, as always, the most thorough tutor; knowledgeable and authoritative. He taught from a rare Indian textbook and approached every act as a further lesson in Archemedean mechanics and Euclidean geometry.
It was not until eighteen when Philostartus was caught in flagrante delicto with me. My brother, for my tutor's lustful presumption, impaled Philostratus on a spike from anus to mouth. In ensuing fight between me and husband, I came at him with a knife, opened his vein, and thereon he developed a gangrenous infection; spread around his body for nine months until it killed him. Across the palace I could hear my brother's screams and it gave me more pleasure than two years with Philostratus ever could.
Ancient custom required me to marry to marry my second brother, then the ten year old I was when I was first married. I refused custom and my refusal launched a civil war. Many at court considered my refusal to marry my brother the worst kind of dishonor. Those tongues in opposition to me wagged that never would a Pharaohess issue such a brazen demand had not been Egyptian women so spoiled by equality and education.
Egyptian women were first in the world in liberation, and the first to be slaughtered and raped in the civil war which followed. It is said th...
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....e I mounted the Pharaohship as sole ruler, my brother's friends at court never ceased in their toximaic comments that 'our new Pharaoh looks like a witch', even as I walked by them. As woman in a world of men, I had to cultivate that which only women have, and as I believed I had innately less than others, I had to make more of less.
I went to the official Pharaonic tailor, Joseph-bar-David. He and his assistant, Jonathan-bar-Joseph, lived together above their office. They importuned me to let them see me naked so that they could accent all my best features. I had always worn the traditional androgyne clothing of an Egyptian heir, even after becoming queen in all but office. When gazing at me nude, they affected great gasps and temeritously told me I was hiding Babylonic features behind a uniform that was such a baggy dump.
They began by design for a headdress of gold and slaved for six days to create it. When it was new, it was the most dazzling thing ever lain eyes upon by an Egyptian kingdom. I will not deny that at night I danced naked in the gold head dress in my obsidian mirror. It was also in view of the servants, and I made it a point of seeing if I could arouse the manservants keeping watch; those servants I found pleasing I bestowed with favors. And yet the dress weighed so heavily that my upper back and neck ached ever since as though I'm Atlas with the world on my shoulders.
Joseph proceeded to design me a series of broad necklaces, broad so we could bedeck each with some of the largest jewels in the Pharaonic palace, each worn by a different previous Pharaoh. Every one of them cut to my skin like lacerations, and to this day, a servant every night applies spirit of camphor to my collar.
Thereon were designed sashes around my waist of finest raiment, deliberately long and phallic, reminding my subjects they gaze upon no mere woman; each sash embroidered by a different geometric pattern to represent my educative years in Alexandria's Library. Once a day for two decades I get them caught and trip, and every subject has to pretend not to laugh, and at least once a week I have to resist the urge to bury them in sand.
Afterward a series of capes, each the color of a different noble house. Every day I would enter with the colored cape of whatever house held my greatest favor that day. So many noblemen sacrificed their lives in attempt to gain it; some deaths were of irritants I welcomed, some were of friends I loved.
And finally, the dresses, the gowns, the robes, the frocks; some revealing legs up to the pelvis, some revealing cleavage up to the areola; all of them hugging my form like skin. I would return every night to my apartment and the material would inevitably chafe, leaving skinmarks that peeled and rashes that itch every minute of the day for twenty years.
And the shoes: oh Yahweh those shoes...; I'm thirty-nine now, I'd be lucky still to walk before I'm forty five.
And finally, the makeup: the cake of foundation, the eyeliner that stretched halfway to my hair, the lengthened eyelashes, the earings that so stretch my ears that I wear my hair long and never can braid it, the eyelids weighed down by led dye. My face has burned every day for more than twenty years, nowhere moreso than my eyes, and in recent years I've lost clarity of sight.
Through the beginning of that redressing process, Philostratus admonished me for 'lewd ostentation', claiming that a woman sovereign particularly must be modest lest she attract envy; yet no tongue thereafter called me a witch. Yes, I was proud of how I looked. It a cynical ploy of strumpery, but it was also a manner of reminding subjects at court that indeed, their Pharaoh was woman, but she was also a goddess. No mortal could endure this regimen of beau....
Caesar looked like a phallus. He was 51, tall and so thin he could walk through a lyre; completely bald on top with half his hair ring combed forward in a manner more absurd than British stone henges he'd recount; yet legends of female conquests were so manifold that I doubted a homely, witchy girl like me merited romantic affection; yet I felt immediately the heave of his eros - not from loins but from heart, and within fifteen seconds understood why women more beautiful than I thought him tantalizing.
Caesar was every woman's dream of a husband. Caesar was largely raised by women, whom by his fifties were all dead and he yearned to resurrect their company. What enticed us was that women felt his absolute equal. He spoke openly of his many ailments, had no fear to cry or panic in front of women, and no reservation for bequeathing all those sexual services men of high station considered degrading. Most importantly, he listened to women as complete conversational partner. He considered our insights, and while never hesitating to refute us did so with such nuance that we understood he apprehended every word we said. Upon men he imposed his full might's authority, with women he shared his vulnerability's full burden.
He'd surely in mind to bed me from his moment of Nile embarkation, but with Caesar, women did not seduce nor he them, he simply knew his ability to converse as peer would receive reward. In his company, women learned what he'd tell no man. He'd inevitably explain he thought ambition the worst of all burdens; one pursued as joyless compulsion. Even as he chased an unsat throne atop the Roman world, he knew he concurrently chased death and martyrdom. To Caesar, empire and imperial rule were Rome's only option to save itself from dying the horrible collapse of all world powers. To save Rome, so said Caesar, he had to destroy it. Putting his name into glory and history simply was his reward for the gratitude he felt himself owed, like a doctor to a patient he saves.Woman's wisdom was Caesar's greatest weapon, his greatest resource, his greatest teacher. We watched powerlessly as man after man fell to Caesar. Caesar would enter land after land the conqueror, take the defeated king's wife into confidence, and she'd divulge every secret of what made her husband a mediocre king. Yet even as he loved women, he played them like a pan pipe. Everything he said was true, yet none of it was. Was he ever truly attracted to me, or was I allure to him simply because of my descent from the true love of Caesar's life: Alexander the Great?
Caesar had been to every eastern court and saw the gorgeous ways kings lived; the art, the jewels, the fashionable finery, and coveted it as only could a man formed by Rome's censure of luxury. He was, like all Romans, born into austerity and wanted to die drowning in frippery. He wished to be king because he knew himself the smartest of Romans, and therefore best fit to know what Rome needed, but as the smartest of Romans, he had contempt over those he ruled, and was intelligent enough to keep that contempt to himself. Cicero also thought himself the smartest, and his contempt for those Romans for whom he spoke was shouted from Capitoline Hill into every home, and yet he inveighed against Caesar and me all the gorgeous corruption which his manner demonstrated more loudly than Caesar ever could.
Cicero was that type of who always flourishes amid power's corruption: the liberal hypocrite - the higher the ideals, the lower the reality. The signal to locate a den of vice is to look for the loudest preacher of virtue, and even as Cicero public perorated about virtues and privately inveighed against Caesar's 'rich young slut', he combed Rome's drawing room nurseries for the youngest heiress he could find, and when he quickly realized the child wife inadequate to appreciate his magnificence, he separated from her with no more regret than the hundreds of wh....
.....Cicero determined to hate me because I would upset the balance of a world he mastered. In his mind, Caesar and Cicero was a truer partnership than Caesar and Pompey: Cicero master of the spirit; Caesar master of the corpse - but a woman who shows herself a capable in both those realms? She might as well be declared a master greater than Cicero for how greatly it upset the knowledge of a man who pontificated as though he knew all. Cicero extolled virtue as though he was virtue herself, but he was everything the Rome hated because none knew better than Romans that there was vice behind every Roman virtue he extolled. Even those who loved Cicero hated him.
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...Caesar clearly decided from the beginning my rule and my brother a mere figurehead, and my court clearly knew it; for next morning by my entrance, Roman soldiers already subdued and arrested all my older brother-husband's advisors, all of whom fought on my younger brother's pliable side. They all had shown up to greet Caesar that morning with knives in their tunics.
Upon my entrance, Caesar related all that had happened, and left their fates to me. Remembering the story Philostratus imparted to me of how King David pardoned enemies like Shimei, I decided to pardon them; but remembering how King Saul took it upon himself so many times to murder David, I decided to find out who lead this conspiracy. I had each of them bound, took each into a private room, and as Caesar and my brother watched I thrashed each on the back with 60 lashes, blood everywhere upon my white dress until it was a smock. Within ten lashes they each confessed the names of the organizers: Omari and Chisisi; nevertheless, I persisted. Caesar smiled the whole time, my brother cried. I told the Romans to dispose of the leaders with their worst death, Omari and Chisisi were nailed o...
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...Was it all a play? The father of my tutor, Philostratus, was, in fact, a Judean from Yavneh named Philo. a philosopher himself who taught all his children and grandchildren. Philo was of no school nor party; he believed that all ideas were true, the truth is without end, and all ideas emanated from a totalizing celestial source stretching from the heavens to the earth, and therefore one cannot ascertain people's complete motives, either by formal ideas as Plato would have it, nor substance as Aristotle would. To assume one knows the truth in its whole is presumption to assume the role of gods. Caesar is now a god, and I therefore I know as little of Caesar's motives as my mortal self knows of my own....
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...for, you see, my dearest children, then as now, we'd birthed the new age of feminism. Women were educated for school, women could work, women could fight, women could sue at court, women could judge, and women could lead. Our empire was always the vanguard of women's progress, but the progress was accelerated by one development above all others: not the arrival of our Ptolemaic Dynasty, but the re-arrival in Egypt of Judea.
We may be Greek, but we feel pain as Egyptians, and Pharaonic Egypt traces her decline to the Hebrew exodus, after which we no longer had our underclass for all that work which Egyptians demand such exorbitant pay; yet who in their right mind prefers the Egypt of Amenhotep and Tuthenkamen to the Egypt of the Ptolemys and Cleopatras? Rome has the soldiers but we have the books. Greece produces the scholars but they come here to teach. Antioch runs the trade but we Egyptians buy everything while Rome saves. Modern Egypt is a glory so far past that which any Pharaoh could build. The whole world is run by Rome, studied by Greece, administered by Antioch, but it pays tribute to Egypt.
Why? Because the Jews never really left. From earliest establishment of a Judean kingdom in Palestine, Kings David and Solomon re-established good relations with neighbors whose history is as shared as Isis and Osiris. Centuries of enmity, then the closest of allies: our soldiers fought the same wars, traded the same goods; heard the same musicians, watched the same theater companies; the same artists drew our courts, the same tutors taught our scholars. Egypt's had many allies, but the relationship to the Jewish people is built on stone that never moves.
And every time there was new instability in Judea, more Jews arrived on our shores. Six centuries ago with the assassination of Governor Gedalia, ten thousand Jews arrived in Alexandria by single caravan. Ten thousand became tens of thousands, tens of thousands a hundred thousand, then two hundred, then three hundred, and finally seven-hundred fifty thousand in Alexandria alone. In Egypt they once were slaves, now they become masters, often beloved by their servants; overlords who've run the country for ten generations of predecessors and ancestors, chamberlains who ran our courts; landowners who administer our land more competently than any Egyptian taskmaster, farmers who worked twice as hard, generals willing to lead our armies' charge in combat, soldiers on our borders willing to die for Egypt twice. Where Luxor made them slaves, Alexandria made Jews free, and Jews love Egypt more than any Egyptian.
lf Egypt stands after Macedonia and Persia fell, it's because we welcomed Jews to an extent no ancient empire did, and they repaid our welcome with prosperity so unlike that of Ancient Egypt; not the totalitarian prosperity of an overlord worshipped in cult, but equalizing, egalitarian prosperity. And from this prosperity we conceived new justice, where which liberated Egyptian women claimed all these rights we take for granted.
And yet even now, men's prosperity against women is as bounteous as Nile banks against desert. Women are just 7% of landowners, farmers, soldiers, shepherds, policemen, local councilmen and judges. All women at court but me have inferior positions, half the women I enoble are met with court veto. And... of course... whatever the job of women, they are paid a fraction of men doing the same. Gaia herself a goddess, and not even she is honored enough that progeny in her image are allowed a fraction of men's dignitas.
I too am a god but not even a god can raise the position of women if god is a woman herself. I am Pharaoh and daughter of Pharaoh, yet I could not shield myself from forced marriage and rape. We are so far from equality yet so very close. Who cannot believe in a limitless future for women if we do what must be done?
Every horoscope says the same: a new era dawns now. You feel it as surely as I. Rome will rule, then decline as every empire does; but other Empires rule their corners, Rome can rule the whole sphere. Its might will unite us all: by government, by language, roads, culture, and fashion. Rome's beliefs will be the world's beliefs, Rome's dogma the world's, Rome's edicts unbreakable law; and when Rome declines, what will the world be?
There is another side to our Jewish friends, a dreadful one that continually manifests itself in its history's long turbulence - a side that believes women mere helpmeets to men and husbands created to rule us, that believes an excellent wife rarer than jewels; that believes it better to live in the desert than a house with a quarrelsome woman.
Jews are quick to vengeance as to mercy, they are turbulent as the jealous god to whom they bow. For centuries after liberation from us, they conquered and killed people of their homeland down to the last man, woman and child. When they finally achieved enlightened prosperity through government of the Davidic Monarchy, they cast off their Solomonic wisdom as quickly as they achieved it slowly - and all that destruction for the sake of bringing greater honor to the very god who inspired their wisdom. When our Greek siblings sought to improve Jewish life just as Jews have improved ours here, the Hasmoneans cast them out and killed anyone tempted to adapt Greek mores.
When chaos reigns, we all turn to gods, but when Rome dissolves in chaos, we all will turn to Rome's gods; throughout the world, and for all time; but no god can ensure order as the Jewish god can: one god; eternal, omniscient, all powerful, as judgemental as the empire who imposes it and searing in his anger as men are to quarrelsome women. The higher the ideals, the lower the reality. Whomever comes after Rome will adapt the Jewish god as the god for the world, for all places at all times, a god who knows all actions and all thoughts, who can control people even within their minds. For all their contributions to Egypt and the world, the world is cursed by their presence.
Ergo, whatever Rome does in response, it is imperative that you annihilate every Jewish person in Egypt down to the youngest infant, then march on Israel to do the same. It is worth the deaths on your conscience, it is worth the death of Egypt, it is worth the death of all humankind to prevent this future, where 99 out of every hundred men shall be lower than dirt, and therefore 99 out of every hundred women still lower. All the progress of women, just a mirage in time's sand; all rights stripped, all dignity violated.
My great-uncle, Ptolemy Lazarus, tried to reslave the Hebrews. Everywhere in Egypt, Lazarus is thought a villain of history, but he did not go far enough. He thought Egypt could be restored to former glory, but Egypt is not the world's future. Slavery is the world's future, and worldwide slavery the Jews' revenge upon the world.
I was weak. Jews were our friends, mentors, allies, they only seemed to mean well at court and in business. Whether Jews will be the rulers or ruled like the rest of us is irrelevant. Their ideas must be stopped before they take hold, and it can only be stopped by their immediate deaths. Whether any of you knows it, whether any Roman knows it, whether any Jew knows it, I know it, and their god knows it. Whether Jews are the rulers or ruled like the rest of us, the world is at eternal war with all that Jews represent.
I have raised you all to value women, to respect them always, to fear them when appropriate, and to advocate all their dignity, rights, and futures. To honor our futures, you must annihilate the Jewish people.
May you live forever,
Your Mother, Queen Cleopatra, The Goddess, The Younger, Father Loving, and Fatherland Loving
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