Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. |
|
Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAS, ALEXAS, and Attendant. |
Cleo. Give me some music; music, moody food |
Of us that trade in love. |
Attend. The music, ho! |
|
Enter MARDIAN. |
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 a 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'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-finn'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. |
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—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. |
|
Enter a Messenger. |
O! from Italy; |
Ram thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears, |
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, |
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, so tart a favour |
To trumpet such good tidings! if not well, |
Thou shouldst come like a Fury crown'd with snakes, |
Not like a formal man. |
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. 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; fie upon 'but yet!' |
'But yet' is as a gaoler 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 sayst; and thou sayst, 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 lingering 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 knife. |
Mess. Nay, then I'll run. |
What mean you, madam? I have made no fault. [Exit. |
Char. Good madam, keep yourself within yourself; |
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. [Exit CHARMIAN. |
These hands do lack nobility, that they strike |
A meaner than myself; since I myself |
Have given myself the cause. |
|
Re-enter CHARMIAN, and Messenger. Come hither, sir. |
Though it be honest, it is never good |
To bring bad news; give to a gracious message |
A host of tongues, but let ill tidings tell |
Themselves when they be felt. |
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's 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 |
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? |
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's married to Octavia. |
Cleo. O! that his fault should make a knave of thee, |
That art not what thou'rt sure of. 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! [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, her years, |
Her inclination, let him not leave out |
The colour of her hair: bring me word quickly. [Exit ALEXAS. |
Let him forever go:—let him not—Charmian!— |
Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon, |
The other way's a Mars. [To MARDIAN.] 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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