To trumpet such good tidings? If not well,
Thou shouldst come like a fury crown'd with snakes,
Not like a formal man.!

Mess.

Will't please you hear me? Cleo. I have a mind to strike thee, ere thou speak'st:

Yet, if thou say, Antony lives, is well,

Or friends with Cæsar, or not captive to him,
I'll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail

Rich pearls upon thee.

Mess.

Cleo.

Madam, he's well.

Well said.

Thou'rt an honest inan.

Mess. And friends with Cæsar.

Cleo.

Mess. Cæsar and he are greater friends than ever. Cleo. Make thee a fortune from me.

But yet, madam,-

Mess.
Cleo. I do not like but yet, it does allay
The good precedence;2 fie upon but yet:

But yet is as a gaoler to bring forth

Some monstrous malefactor. Pr'ythee, friend,
Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear,

The good and bad together: He's friend with

Cæsar;

In state of health, thou say'st; and, thou say'st, free. Mess. Free, madam! no; I made no such report: He's bound unto Octavia.

Cleo.

Mess. For the best turn i'the bed.

Cleo.

For what good turn?

I am pale, Charmian.

Mess. Madam, he's married to Octavia.

Cleo. The most infectious pestilence upon thee!

Mess. Good madam, patience.

Cleo.

[Strikes him down.

What say you?—hence,

[Strikes him again.

Horrible villain! or I'll

spurn thine eyes

Like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head;

[She hales him up and down.

(1) A man in his senses.

(2) Preceding.

Thou shalt be whipp'd with wire, and stew'd in

brine,

Smarting in ling'ring pickle.

Gracious madam,

Mess.
I, that do bring the news, made not the match.

Cleo. Say, 'tis not so, a province I will give thee,
And make thy fortunes proud: the blow thou hadsi
Shall make thy peace, for moving me to rage;
And I will boot thee with what gift beside
Thy modesty can beg.

Mess.

Cleo. Rogue, thou hast liv'd too long.

Mess.

He's married, madam.

[Draws a dagger. Nay, then I'll run :--

[Exit.

What mean you, madam? I have made no fault.

Char. Good madam, keep yourself within your

self;

The man is innocent.

Cleo. Some innocents 'scape not the thunderbolt.

Melt Egypt into Nile! and kindly creatures
Turn all to serpents!-Call the slave again;
Though I am mad, I will not bite him:-Call.
Char. He is afeard to come.

Cleo.
I will not hurt him:-
These hands do lack nobility, that they strike
A meaner than myself; since I myself

Have given myself the cause.-Come hither, sir. Re-enter Messenger.

Though it be honest, it is never good

To bring bad news: Give to a gracious message A host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell

Themselves, when they be felt.

Mess.

Cleo. Is he married?

I have done my duty.

I cannot hate thee worser than I do,

(1) Recompense.

If thou again say, Yes.

Mess.

He is married, madam.

Cleo. The gods confound thee! dost thou hold there still?

Mess. Should I lie, madam?

Cleo. O, I would, thou didst; So half my Egypt were submerg'd,' and made A cistern for scal'd snakes! Go, get thee hence; Hadst thou Narcissus in thy face, to me Thou wouldst appear most ugly. He is married? Mess. I crave your highness' pardon.

Cleo.

He is married? Mess. Take no offence, that I would not offend

you:

To punish me for what you make me do,
Seems much unequal: He is married to Octavia.
Cleo. O, that his faults should make a knave of
thee,

That art not!-What? thou'rt sure of't?-Get thee hence:

The merchandise which thou hast brought from

Rome,

Are all too dear for me; Lie they upon thy hand, And be undone by 'em! [Exit Messenger. Good your highness, patience. Cleo. In praising Antony, I have disprais'd

Char.

Cæsar.

Char. Many times, madam.

Cleo.

Lead me from hence.

I am paid for't now.

I faint; O Iras, Charmian,-'Tis no matter :

Go to the fellow, good Alexas; bid him
Report the feature2 of Octavia, her years,

Her inclination, let him not leave out

The colour of her hair :-bring me word quickly.

[Exit Alexas Let him for ever go:-Let him not-Charmian, Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon,

(1) Whelmed under water.

(2) Beauty.