Antony and Cleopatra A Tragedy |
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 | Antony and Cleopatra |  |
SCENE II.
Messenger enters.[Cleo.]
Saw'st thou Alexas, fellow?—
Mess.
No, madam.
Cleo.
Thy looks do speak dark tidings—He does come,
As doth the raven to the sick man's window,
To say his doom's at hand!—I would he'd speak,
But cannot bid him.
Mess.
Madam! madam!
Cleo.
Dead?
376
First, madam—He is well.
Cleo.
Gold! give him gold!—
But hold—it is a phrase of vulgar usage,
To say the dead are well—bring it to that,
The gold I give thee will I melt, and pour
Down thine ill uttering throat!
Mess.
I wait your patience.
Cleo.
Go to then—I will hear thee—
But there's no goodness in thy face!
Mess.
He is well, madam.
Cleo.
Why, that's 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 of me!
Mess.
But yet—
Cleo.
I do not like, but yet—it does allay
The good precedence.—
Mess.
He is married to Octavia.
Cleo.
The most infectious pestilence upon thee!
Horrible villain!—hence!
Mess.
Gracious lady,
I bring the news but made it not.
Cleo.
Slave, thou hast lived too long!
[Exit Mess.
Charm.
Sweet mistress, keep yourself within yourself;
The man is innocent.
Cleo.
Call him in again—
[Messenger returns.
Though it be honest, it is never gracious
To bring bad tidings—
377
Thou'lt look a gorgon to me.—Is he married?
Mess.
To Cæsar's sister.
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 submerged, and made
A cistern for scaled snakes!—
The merchandises thou hast brought from Italy,
Are all too dear for me—Go, get thee hence!—
Lie they upon thy hands, and be undone!
[Exit Messenger.
Charm.
Good now, your highness, patience!
Cleo.
I will, and if I can—Call him again.
[Exit Iras.
Pray you, come hither, sir!
[Enter Messenger.
Mess.
Good majesty!
Herod of Jewry dare not look upon you,
When you are in displeasure.
Cleo.
Nearer, come!
Mess.
Most gracious Queen!
Cleo.
Art thou assured he is married?
Mess.
Madam, I am.
Cleo.
Falsest, falsest Antony!
O, murderous Roman, thou hast stabb'd my fame;
And, on the fair fronts of thine own begotten,
Branded the name of bastard!—Tell me, fellow!
Tell me—didst see Octavia?
Mess.
I did, dread sovereign!
378
Between her brother and Marc Antony.
Cleo.
Say—Is her stature tall?
Mess.
It is not, madam.
Cleo.
Didst hear her speak?—Is her voice silver-tuned?
Mess.
Madam, I heard her speak—she is low-tongued.
Cleo.
And dwarfish?—Sure, he cannot like her long!
Char.
Impossible.
Iras.
Impossible.
Cleo.
I think so, wenches.—Tell me, gentle friend,
What majesty is in her mien?—Bethink thee—
Hast thou e'er look'd on majesty?
Mess.
Yes, lady!—
The majesty of the world.
Char.
Isis forbid else!—
The man is an Egyptian.
Mess.
She creeps, madam.
Her motion and her person are as one—
She shews a body, rather than a life;
A statue, than a breather!
Cleo.
Is this certain?
Mess.
Or I have no observance.
Char.
Three in Egypt,
Cannot make better note.
Cleo.
I do perceive it.
He is very knowing—There's nothing in her, yet.
The fellow has good judgment.
Iras.
Excellent!
379
Guess at her years, I pray thee.
Mess.
Madam, she was a widow; and has children,
Likely to make her grannam.
Cleo.
Hark! a widow, girls!
Char.
And grandmother—O hideous!
Iras.
Ah, poor Antony!
Cleo.
Her hair, what colour?
Mess.
Black, madam; and her forehead
As low as she could wish.
Cleo.
There is gold for thee—
Thou must not take my former sharpness ill.
I will employ thee back again; I find thee
Most fit for business—Go, and make thee ready,
We will prepare our letters.
[Exit Messenger.
Char.
A proper man!
Cleo.
Indeed he is so.—I repent me much,
That I so harried him.—Why, as he reports,
This creature is no such matter.
Iras.
Nothing.
Cleo.
The fellow has discernment, and should know.
Char.
Defend us else! the man has seen distinctions!
Cleo.
I have one thing, yet, to ask him, my good Charmian!—
But, 'tis no matter—thou shalt bring him to me,
Where I will write—All may be well enough.
Char., Iras.
We warrant you, madam.
[Several horns sounds
Cleo.
From Italy, again!—perhaps.
| Antony and Cleopatra | |