Cleo.
Give me some musick; musick, moody food^{6 note}

Attend.
The musick, ho! Enter Mardian.

Cleo.
Let it alone; let us to billiards^{7 note}:
Come, Charmian.

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 show'd, though it come too short,
The actor may plead pardon^{8 note}


. I'll none now:—
Give me mine angle,—We'll to the river: there,

My musick playing far off, I will betray
Tawny-finn'd fishes^{9 note}

Char.
'Twas merry, when
You wager'd on your angling; when your diver
Did hang a salt-fish^{1 note} on his hook, which he
With fervency drew up.

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 and mantles on him, whilst
I wore his sword Philippan^{2 note}

That long time have been barren.

Mess.
Madam, madam,—

Cleo.
Antony's dead?—
If thou say so, villain, thou kill'st thy mistress:
But well and free^{4 note}



,
If thou so yield him, there is gold, and here
My bluest veins to kiss; a hand, that kings
Have lipp'd, and trembled kissing.

Mess.
First, madam, he is well.

Cleo.
Why, there's more gold.
But, sirrah, mark, we use

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

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,—why so tart a favour
To trumpet such good tidings^{5 note}

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^{7 note}

I'll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail
Rich pearls upon thee^{8 note}

Mess.
Madam, he's well.

Cleo.
Well said.

Mess.
And friends with Cæsar.

Cleo.
Thou'rt an honest man.

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^{9 note}
; fye upon but yet:
But yet is as a gaoler to bring forth
Some monstrous malefactor. Pr'ythee, friend,
Pour out the pack^{1 note} of matter to mine ear,
The good and bad together: He's friends 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.
For what good turn?

Mess.
For the best turn i' the bed.

Cleo.
I am pale, Charmian.

Mess.
Madam, he's married to Octavia.

Cleo.
The most infectious pestilence upon thee! [Strikes him down.

Mess.
Good madam, patience.

Cleo.
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.
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 boot thee with what gift beside
Thy modesty can beg

Mess.
He's married, madam.

Cleo.
Rogue, thou hast liv'd too long. [Draws a Dagger^{2 note}

Mess.
Nay, then I'll run:—
What mean you, madam? I have made no fault. [Exit.

Char.
Good madam, keep yourself within yourself^{3 note}
;
The man is innocent.

Cleo.
Some innocents 'scape not the thunderbolt.—
Melt Egypt into Nile^{4 note}
! 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^{5 note}

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 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^{6 note}

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 fault should make a knave of thee,
That art not what thou'rt sure of^{8 note}

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.

Char.
Good your highness, patience.

Cleo.
In praising Antony, I have disprais'd Cæsar.

Char.
Many times, madam.

Cleo.
I am paid for't now.
Lead me from hence,
I faint; O Iras, Charmian,—'Tis no matter:—
Go to the fellow, good Alexas; bid him
Report the feature of Octavia^{9 note}

Let him for ever go^{2 note}:—Let him not—Charmian,
Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon,
The other way he's* ^note a Mars^{3 note}