Char. My arm is sore, best play with Mardian. Cleo. As well a woman with an eunuch play'd, As with a woman. Come, you'll play with me, sir? Mar. As well as I can, madam. Cleo. And when good will is shew'd, though 't come too short, The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now. Give me mine angle, we'll to th' river: there, My music playing far off, I will betray Tawny-finn'd fishes; my bended hook shall pierce Their slimy jaws, and as I draw them up, I'll think them every one an Antony, And say, Ah, ha! y' are caught. Char. 'Twas merry, when You wager'd on your angling; when your diver Cleo. That time, - O times! Enter a Messenger. O, from Italy? Ram thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears, That long time have been barren. Mess. Cleo. Antony's dead? Madam, madam, — If thou say so, villain, thou kill'st thy mistress : But well and free, If thou so yield him, there is gold, and here Have lipp'd, and trembled kissing. Mess. First, madam, he is well. Cleo. But, sirrah, mark, we use Why, there's more gold. To say, the dead are well: bring it to that, Mess. Good madam, hear me. Cleo. Well, go to, I will; But there's no goodness in thy face. If Antony Be free, and healthful, so tart a favour To trumpet such good tidings! if not well, Thou should'st 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, 'tis well; Or friends with Cæsar, or not captive to him, I'll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail Mess. Cæsar and he are greater friends than ever. Cleo. Make thee a fortune from me. Mess. bring forth But yet, madam, Cleo. I do not like but yet,' it does allay The good precedence; fie upon but yet!' 'But yet' is as a gaoler to Some monstrous malefactor. Pour out the pack of matter The good and bad together. He's friends with Cæsar; In state of health, thou say'st; and, thou say'st, Pr'ythee, friend, free. Mess. Free, madam? no; I made no such report: He's bound unto Octavia. Cleo. Mess. For the best turn i̇'th' 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 [She hales him up and down. Thou shalt be whipp'd with wire, and stew'd in brine, Smarting in ling'ring pickle. Mess. Gracious madam, 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 had'st 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. What mean you, madam? I have made no fault. [ Exit. Char. Good madam, keep yourself within yourself: The man is innocent. Cleo. Some innocents 'scape not the thunder-bolt. Melt Egypt into Nile! and kindly creatures Turn all to serpents ! Though I am mad, I will not bite him. Call the slave again: 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. Enter Messenger. Though it be honest, it is never good To bring bad news: give to a gracious message Mess. I have done my duty. Cleo. Is he married? I cannot hate thee worser than I do, If thou again say, Yes. Mess. He's married, madam. Cleo. The gods confound thee! dost thou hold there still? Mess. Should I lie, madam ? Cleo. O, I would thou did'st, So half my Egypt were submerg'd, and made Thou would'st appear most ugly. He is married? 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 fault, should make a knave of thee, That art but what thou'rt sure of. Get thee hence: The merchandise which thou hast brought from Rome, Are all too dear for me: lie they upon thy hand, Char. [Exit Messenger. Good your Highness, patience. Cleo. In praising Antony, I have disprais'd Cæsar. Char. Many times, madam. Cleo. Lead me from hence; I am paid for 't now I faint. O Iras! Charmian! - 'Tis no matter. The colour of her hair: bring me word quickly. [Exit ALEXAS. - let him not Charmian, Let him for ever go: The other way's a Mars. Bid you Alexas [To MARDIAN. Bring me word how tall she is. - Pity me, Charmian, But do not speak to me. - Lead me to my chamber. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. Near Misenum. Flourish. Enter POMPEY and MENAS, at one side, with drum and trumpet: at another, CÆSAR, LEPIDUS, ANTONY, ENOBARBUS, MECENAS, with Soldiers marching. Pom. Your hostages I have, so have you mine; And we shall talk before we fight. Most meet Cæs. That first we come to words; and therefore have we Our written purposes before us sent, Which, if thou hast consider'd, let us know |