Cleo.
Give me some Musick: Musick, moody food
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 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 shewed, 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 Musick playing far off, I will betray
Tawny-fin 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.

Char.

'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.

Cleo.
That time!—Oh times!—
I laught him out of patience, and that night
I laught him into patience, and next morn,
E'er the ninth hour I drunk him to his bed:
Then put my Tires and Mantles on him, whilst
I wore his Sword Philippan. Oh from Italy. Enter a Messenger.
Ram thou thy fruitful tidings in mine Ears,
That long time have been barren.

Mes.
Madam! Madam!—

Cleo.
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 blewest Veins to kiss: a hand that Kings
Have lipt, and trembled kissing.

Mes.
First, Madam, he is well.

Cleo.
Why there's more Gold. But, Sirrah, mark, we use
To say, the dead are well: bring me to that,
The Gold I give thee, will I melt and pour
Down thy ill-uttering throat.

Mes.
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? If not well,
Thou should'st come like a Fury crown'd with Snakes,
Not like a formal Man.

Mes.
Wilt please you hear me?

Cleo.
I have a mind to strike thee e'er thou speak'st;
Yet if thou say, Antony lives, 'tis well,
Or Friends with Cæsar, or not Captain to him,
I'll see thee in a showre of Gold, and hail
Rich Pearls upon thee.

Mes.
Madam, he's well.

Cleo.
Well said.

Mes.
And Friends with Cæsar.

Cleo.
Thou'rt an honest Man.

Mes.
Cæsar, and he, are greater Friends than ever.

Cleo.
Mark thee a Fortune from me.

Mes.
But yet, Madam—

Cleo.
I do not like but yet, it do's allay
The good precedence, fie upon but yet,
But yet, is as a Jaylor to bring forth
Some monstrous Malefactor. Prithee, Friend,
Pour out the 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 sport,
He's bound unto Octavia.

Cleo.
For what good turn?

Mes.
For the best turn i'th' Bed.

Cleo.
I am pale, Charmian.

Mes.
Madam, he's married to Octavia.

Cleo.
The most infectious Pestilence upon thee. [Strikes him down.

Mes.
Good Madam, patience.

Cleo.
What say you? [Strikes him.
Hence 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 whipt with Wyre, and stew'd in Brine,
Smarting in lingring pickle.

Mes.
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.

Mes.
He's married, Madam.

Cleo.
Rogue, thou hast liv'd too long. [Draws a Dagger.

Mes.
Nay then I'll run:
What mean you, Madam, I have made no fault. [Exit.

Char.
Good Madam, keep your self within your self,
The Man is innocent.

Cleo.
Some Innocents scape not the Thunderbolt:
Melt Ægypt into Nile; and kindled 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 my self: since I my self
Have given my self 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 Message
An Host of Tongues, but let ill tidings tell
Themselves, when they be felt.

Mes.
I have done my duty.

Cleo.
Is he married?
I cannot hate thee worser than I do,
If thou again say yes.

Mes.
He's married, Madam.

Cleo.
The gods confound thee, dost thou hold there still?

Mes.
Should I lie, Madam?

Cleo.
Oh, would thou didst:
So half my Ægypt were submerg'd, and made
A Cistern for scal'd Snakes. Go get thee hence,
Hadst thou Narcissus in thy Face, to me
Thou wouldst appear most ugly: He is married?

Mes.
I crave your Highness pardon.

Cleo.
He is married?

Mes.
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,
That art not what thou art sure of. Get thee hence,
The Merchandises which thou hast brought from Rome,

Are all too dear for me:
Lye they upon thy hand, and be undone by 'em. [Exit Mes.

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; 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,
Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon,
The other way's a Mars. Bid you Alexas
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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