SCENE V.

Changes to the Palace in Alexandria.

Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras and Alexas. IVE me fome mufick: mufick, moody food

Cleo. GIVE

Of us that trade in love

Omnes. The musick, hoa!

Enter Mardian the Eunuch.

Cleo. Let it alone, let's to billiards: come, Charmian.

Char. My arm is fore, 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 fhew'd, tho't come
too short,

The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now.
Give me mine angle, we'll to th' river, there,
My mufick playing far off, I will betray
Tawny-finn'd fish; my bended hook shall pierce
Their flimy jaws; and, as I draw them up,
I'll think them every one an Antony,

And fay, ah, ha! you're caught.

Char. 'Twas merry, when

You wager'd on your angling; when your diver
Did hang a falt fifh on his hook, which he
With fervency drew up.

Cleo. That time!-oh times!

I laught him out of patience, and that night
I laught him into patience; and next morn,
Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed:

Then

Then put my tires and mantles on him, whilft
I wore his fword Philippan. Oh, from Italy;
Enter a Meffenger.

Ram thou thy faithful tidings in mine ears,
That long time have been barren.
Mef. Madam! Madam!-

Cleo. Antony's dead?

If thou fay fo, villain, thou kill'ft thy mistress:
But well and free,

If thou fo yield him, there is gold, and here
My blueft veins to kifs: a hand, that Kings
Have lipt, and trembled kiffing.

Mef. First, Madam, he is well.

Cleo. Why, there's more gold. But, firrah, mark, we ufe

To fay, the dead are well: bring it to that,
The gold, I give thee, will I melt and pour
Down thy ill-uttering throat.

Mef. Good Madam, hear me.

Cleo. Well, go to, I will:

But there's no goodness in thy face. If Antony
Be free and healthful; why fo tart a favour

To trumpet fuch good tidings? if not well,

Thou fhould't come like a fury crown'd with fnakes,

Not like a formal man;

Mef. Will't please you hear me?

Cleo. I have a mind to ftrike thee, ere thou speak'ft; Yet, if thou fay Antony lives, 'tis well,

Or friends with Cafar, or not captive to him,

5 Then put my tires and mantles on him, whilft

I wore his fword Philippan.-] This is finely imagined. The speaker is fuppofed to do this in imitation of Omphale, in her treatment of Hercules the great ancestor of Antony.

6 Not like a formal man.] Formal, for ordinary.

7 I'll fet thee in a fhower of gold, and hail
Rich pearls upon thee.

Mef. Madam, he's well.
Cleo. Well faid.

Mef. And friends with Cafar.

Cleo. Thou'rt an honeft man.

Mef. Cæfar and he, are greater friends than ever. Cleo. Make thee a fortune from me.

Mef. 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 jaylor to bring forth

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

The good and bad together: he's friends with Cæfar,
In ftate of health, thou fay'ft; and thou fay'st, free.
Mef. Free, Madam! no: I made no fuch report.
He's bound unto Octavia.

Cleo. For what good turn?

Mef. For the best turn i' th' bed,

Cleo. I am pale, Charmian.

Mef. Madam, he's married to Octavia.

Cleo. The most infectious peftilence upon thee!

Mef. Good Madam, patience.

Cleo. What fay you?

[Strikes bim down.

[Strikes bim.

7 I'll fet thee in a shower of gold, and hail

Rich pearls upon thee.] That is, I will give thee a kingdom; it being the eastern ceremony, at the coronation of their Kings, to powder them with gold-duft and feed-pearl: fo Milton,

-the gorgeous Eaft with liberal hand

Showers on her Kings barbaric pearl and gold.

In the life of Timur-bec or Tamerlane written by a Perfian contemporary author, are the following words, as tranflated by Monfieur Petit de la Croix, in the account there given of his coronation, Book in. chap. 1. Les Princes du fang royal & les Emirs repandirent à pleines mains fur fa téte quantitè d'or & de pierreries felon la coûtume.

8 The good precedence ;-] Precedence, for precedent.

Hence,

Hence, horrible villain, or I'll fpurn thine eyes
Like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head:

[She bales him up and down. Thou shalt be whipt with wire, and stew'd in brine, Smarting in lingring pickle.

Mef. Gracious Madam,

I, that do bring the news, made not the match.
Cleo. Say, 'tis not fo, 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 modefty can beg.

Mef. He's married, Madam.

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

Mef. Nay, then I'll run:

[Draws a dagger.

What mean you, Madam? I have made no fault.[Exit. Char. Good Madam, keep your felf within your felf,

The man is innocent.

Cleo. Some innocents 'fcape not the thunderbolt -Melt Egypt into Nile; and kindly creatures

Turn all to ferpents! call the flave again;
Though I am mad, I will not bite him; call.
Char. He is afraid to come,

Cleo. I will not hurt him.

These hands do lack nobility, that they strike
A meaner than myself: fince I myself

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

Though it be honest, it is never good

To bring bad news: give to a gracious meffage
An hoft of tongues, but let ill tidings tell
Themselves, when they be felt.

Mef. I have done my duty.

Cleo. Is he married?

I

I cannot hate thee worfer than I do,

If you again fay, Yes.

Mef. He's married, Madam.

Cleo. The Gods confound thee! doft thou hold

there ftill?

Mef. Should I lie, Madam?

Cleo. Oh, I would, thou didft:

So half my Egypt were fubmerg'd, and made
A ciftern for fcal'd fnakes! go, get thee hence,
Hadft thou Narciffus in thy face, to me

Thou wouldst appear moft ugly: he is married?
Mef. I crave your Highnefs' pardon.

Cleo. He is married?.

Mef. Take no offence, that I would not offend

you;

To punish me for what you make me do,

Seems much unequal: he's married to Octavia.

Cleo. Oh, that his fault should make a knave of thee,

(a) That fay'ft but what thou'rt fure of!-Get thee

hence,

The merchandises, thou haft brought from Rome,
Are all too dear for me:

Lye they upon thy hand, and be undone by 'em!
[Exit Mef.

Char. Good your Highnefs, patience.
Cleo. In praifing Antony, I have difprais'd Cæfar.
Char. Many times, Madam.

Cleo. I am paid for it now: lead me from hence,
I faint; oh Iras, Charmian-'tis no matter.-
Go to the fellow, good Alexas, bid him
Report the feature of Octavia, her years,
Her inclination, let him not leave out

The colour of her hair. Bring me word quickly,-
Let him for ever go-let him not, Charmian;

[(a) That fay'ft but what Oxford Editor.Vulg. That art not what

Though