The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now :- I'll think them every one an Antony, And say, Ah, ha! you're caught. Char. 'Twas merry, when You wager'd on your angling; when your diver Cleo. That time!-O times!I laugh'd him out of patience; and that night I laugh'd him into patience; and next morn, Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed; Then put my tires 3 and mantles on him, whilst I wore his sword Philippan. O! from Italy; Enter a Messenger, Ram thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears, 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 Mess. First, madam, he's well. Cleo. Why, there's more gold. But, sirrah, mark; We use 3 Head dress. 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 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 man. Mess. And friends with Cæsar. Cleo. Mess. Cæsar and he are greater friends than ever. Cleo. Make thee a fortune from me. Mess. But yet, madam, Cleo. I do not like but yet, it does allay The good precedence;" fye upon but yet: 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. 4 So sour a countenance. 6 Preceding. 5 A man in his senses. 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! [She hales him up and down. Like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head; 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 hadst Shall make thy peace, for moving me to rage; And I will boot7 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 yourself; 7 Recompence. 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. Though it be honest, it is never good To bring bad news: Give to a gracious message Mess. Cleo. Is he married? I have done my duty. I cannot hate thee worser than I do, 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 Thou would'st appear most ugly. He is married? Cleo. • Whelm'd under water. 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 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! 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 : 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.- [Exit ALEXAS. Let him for ever go :-Let him not-Charmian, Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon, T'other way he's a Mars:-Bid you Alexas [To MARDIAN. Bring me word, how tall she is.-Pity ine, Charmian, 9 Beauty. |