Cle.
Give me some music; music, moody food
Of us that trade in love.

Att.
The music, ho! Enter Mardian.

Cle.
Let it alone; let us to billiards:—come,
Charmian.

Cha.
My arm is sore, best play with Mardian.

Cle.
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.

Cle.
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 the river: there,
My music playing far off, I will betray
Tawny-fin'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! you're caught.

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

Cle.
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. O, from Italy;—

Enter a Messenger.
Rain thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears,
That long time have been barren.

Mes.
Madam, madam,—

Cle.
Antony's dead:—If thou say so,
Villain, thou kill'st thy mistress: but well, and free,
If thou so yield him, there is gold, and here
My bluest veins to kiss; a hand, that kings
Have lip'd, and trembl'd kissing.

Mes.
First, madam, he is well.

Cle.
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.

Mes.
Good madam, hear me.

Cle.
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? If not well,
Thou should'st come like a fury crown'd with snakes,
Not like a formal man.

&blquo;Mes.
&blquo;Will't please you hear me?

&blquo;Cle.
&blquo;I have a mind to strike thee, ere thou speak'st:
&blquo;Yet if thou say, Antony lives, is well,
&blquo;Or friends with Cæsar, or not captive to him,
&blquo;I'll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail
&blquo;Rich pearls upon thee.

Mes.
Madam, he's well.

Cle.
Well said.

Mes.
And friends with Cæsar.

Cle.
Thou'rt an honest man.

Mes.
Cæsar and he are greater friends than ever.

Cle.
Mark thee a fortune from me.

Mes.
But yet, madam,—

Cle.
I do not like but yet, it does allay
The good precedence; fie upon but yet:
But yet is as a jailer to bring forth
Some monstrous malefactor. Pr'ythee, friend,
Pour out thy pack 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.

Mes.
Free, madam! no; I made no such report:
He's bound unto Octavia.

&blquo;Cle.
&blquo;For what good turn?

&blquo;Mes.
&blquo;For the best turn i'the bed.

Cle.
I am pale, Charmian.

Mes.
Madam, he's marry'd to Octavia.

&blquo;Cle.
&blquo;The most infectious pestilence upon thee? [* ^noteStrikes him down.

&blquo;Mes.
&blquo;Good madam, patience.

&blquo;Cle.
&blquo;What say you? [striking him again.] Hence,
&blquo;Horrible villain! or I'll spurn thine eyes
&blquo;Like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head: &blquo;[Hales him up and down.
&blquo;Thou shalt be whipt with wire, and stew'd in brine,
&blquo;Smarting in ling'ring pickle.

&blquo;Mes.
&blquo;Gracious madam,
&blquo;I, that do bring the news, made not the match.

Cle.
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.

Mes.
He's marry'd, madam.

&blquo;Cle.
&blquo;Rogue, thou hast liv'd too long. &blquo;[Draws a dagger.

&blquo;Mes.
&blquo;Nay, then I'll run:—
&blquo;What mean you, madam? I have made no fault. &blquo;[Exit Messenger.

&blquo;Cha.
&blquo;Good madam, keep yourself within yourself;
&blquo;The man is innocent.

&blquo;Cle.
&blquo;Some innocents 'scape not the thunder-bolt.—
&blquo;Melt Egypt into Nile! and kindly creatures
&blquo;Turn all to serpents!—Call the slave again;
&blquo;Though I am mad, I will not bite him; call.

&blquo;Cha.
&blquo;He is afeard to come.

&blquo;Cle.
&blquo;I will not hurt him:—
&blquo;These hands do lack nobility, that they strike
&blquo;A meaner than myself? since I myself
&blquo;Have given myself the cause.—Come hither, sir: &blquo;Re-enter Messenger.
&blquo;Though it be honest, it is never good
To bring bad news: Give to a gracious message
An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell
Themselves, when they be felt.

Mes.
I have but done my duty.

Cle.
Is he marry'd?
I cannot hate thee worser than I do,
If thou again say, yes.

Mes.
He's marry'd, madam.

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

Mes.
Should I lye, madam?

Cle.
O, I would, thou didst;
So half my Egypt were submerg'd, and made
A cistern for scal'd snakes! Go, get thee hence;
Had'st thou Narcissus in thy face, to me
Thou would'st appear most ugly. He is marry'd?

Mes.
I crave your highness' pardon.

Cle.
He is marry'd?

Mes.
Take no offence, that I would not offend you:
To punish me for what you make me do,
Seems much unequal: He's marry'd to Octavia.

Cle.
O, that his fault should make a knave of thee,
That say'st but what thou art sure of! Get thee hence:
The merchandize which thou hast brought from Rome,
Are all too dear for me; lye they upon thy hand,
And be undone by 'em! [Exit Messenger.

Cha.
Good your highness, patience.

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

Cha.
Many times, madam.

Cle.
I am pay'd 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, 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,
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.

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