Be free and healthful; why fo tart a favour
To trumpet fuch good tidings? if not well,

Thou should'st come like a fury crown'd with fnakes,
Not like a formal man.

Mef. Will't please you hear me?

Cleo. I have a mind to ftrike thee, ere thou speak'ft; Yet, if thou fay, Antony lives, 'tis well,

Or friends with Cefar, or not captive to him, 'I'll fet thee in a shower of gold, and hail Rich pearls upon thee.

Mef. Madam, he's well.

Cleo. Well faid.

Mef. And friends with Cæfar.

Cleo. Thou'rt an honeft man.

Mef. Cæfar, and he, are greater friends than ever.
Cleo. Make thee a fortune from me.

Mef. 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 jaylor to bring forth

Some monstrous Malefactor. Pr'ythee, friend,

Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear,

The good and bad together: he's friends with Cafar, In ftate of health, thou fay'ft; and thou fay'st, free. Mef. Free, Madam! no: I made no fuch report. He's bound unto Octavia.

Cleo. For what good turn?

Mef. For the best turn i' th' bed.

Cleo. I am pale, Charmian.

Mef. Madam, he's married to Octavia.

Cleo. The most infectious peftilence upon thee!

Mef. Good Madam, patience.

Cleo. What fay you?

[Strikes him down.

[Strikes him.

Hence, horrible villain, or I'll fpurn thine eyes
Like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head:

[She hales him up and down.

Thou shalt be whipt with wire, and stew'd in brine,
Smarting in lingring pickle.

Mef.

Mef. Gracious Madam,

I, that do bring the news, made not the match.
Cleo. Say, 'tis not fo, a province I will give thee,
And make thy fortunes proud: the blow, thou hadit,
Shall make thy peace, for moving me to rage;
And I will boot thee with what gift befide

Thy modefty can beg.

Mef. He's married, Madam.

Cleo. Rogue, thou haft liv'd too long.

Mef. Nay, then I'll run :

[Draws a dagger.

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 ferpents! call the flave again;
Though I am mad, I will not bite him ; call.
Char. He is afraid to come.

Cleo. I will not hurt him.

Thefe hands do lack nobility, that they strike
A meaner than myfelf: fince I myself
Have given myself the cause. Come hither, Sir.
Re-enter the Messenger.

Though it be honeft, it is never good

To bring bad news: give to a gracious meffage
An hoft of tongues, but let ill tidings tell
Themselves, when they be felt.

Mef. I have done my duty.

Cleo. Is he married?

I cannot hate thee worfer than I do,

If you again fay, Yes.

Mef. He's married, Madam.

Cleo. The Gods confound thee! doft thou hold there

ftill?

Mef. Should I lie, Madam ?

Cleo. Oh, I would, thou didft;

So half my Egypt were fubmerg'd, and made

A

A ciftern for fcal'd fnakes! go, get thee hence,
Hadft thou Narciffus in thy face, to me

Thou wouldst appear mott ugly: he is married?
Mef. I crave your Highneis' pardon.

Cleo. He is married?

Mef. 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'rt fure of !-Get thee hence, The merchandises, thou hast brought from Rome, Are all too dear for me:

Lye they upon thy hand, and be undone by 'em!

Char. Good your Highness, patience.

[Exit Mef

Cleo. In praifing Antony, I have difprais'd Cefar.
Char. Many times, Madam.

Cleo. I am paid for it 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
Th' other way he's a Mars. Bid you Alexas
Bring word, how tall fhe is: pity me, Charmian,
But speak not to me. Lead me to my chamber.

[Exeunt

SCENE changes to the Coast of Italy, near Mifenum.

Enter Pompey and Menas, at one door, with drum and trumpet: At another, Cæfar, Lepidus, Antony, Enobarbus, Mecenas, Agrippa, with Soldiers marching. Pom. YOUR hoftages I have, fo have you mine; And we shall talk before we fight.

Caf. Most meet,

That first we come to words; and therefore have we
VOL, VII.

F

Our

Our written purposes before us fent;
Which, if thou haft confider'd, let us know
If 'twill tie up thy difcontented fword,
And carry back to Sicily much tall youth,
That else must perish here.

Pom. To you all three,

The Senators alone of this great world,
Chief factors for the Gods,-

I do not know,

Wherefore my Father should Revengers want,
Having a Son and Friends; fince Julius Cæfar,
(Who at Philippi the good Brutus ghofted,)
There faw you labouring for him. What was it,
That mov'd pale Caffius to confpire ? and what
Made Thee, all honour'd, honeft Roman Brutus,
With the arm'd reft, Courtiers of beauteous freedom,
To drench the Capitol, but that they would
Have one man, but a man? And That is it,
Hath made me rig my Navy: At whofe burthen
The angry Ocean foams, with which I meant
To fcourge th' ingratitude that defpightful Rame
Caft on my noble Father.

Caf. Take your time.

Ant. Thou canst not fear us, Pompey, with thy fails, We'll fpeak with thee at fea. At land, thou know'at, How much we do o'er-count thee.

Pom. At land, indeed,

Thou dost o'er-count me of my Father's house.

But fince the cuckow builds not for himself,

Remain in't, as thou may'st.

Lep. Be pleas'd to tell us,

(For this is from the prefent,) how you take

The offers we have sent you.

Caf. There's the point.

Ant. Which do not be intreated to, but weigh

What it is worth embrac'd.

Caf. And what may follow

To try a larger fortune.

Pom. You've made me offer

Of Sicily, Sardinia; and I must

Rid all the fea of Pirates; then to fend

Measures

Measures of wheat to Rome: this 'greed upon,
To part with unhackt edges, and bear back
Our targe undinted.

Omnes. That's our offer.

Pom. Know then,

I came before you here, a man prepar'd
To take this offer: But Mark Antony
Put me to fome impatience.-

Though I lofe
The praise of it by telling, you must know,
When Cæfar and your Brother were at blows,
Your Mother came to Sicily, and did find
Her welcome friendly.

Ant. I have heard it, Pompey,

And am well studied for a liberal thanks,
Which I do owe you.

Pom. Let me have your hand:

I did not think, Sir, to have met you here.

Ant. The beds i' th' Eaft are soft; and thanks to you, That call'd me timelier than my purpose hither:

For I've gain'd by it.

Caf. Since I faw

you

laft,

There is a change upon you.

Pom. Well, I know not,

What counts hard fortune cafts upon my face;

But in my bofom she shall never come,

To make my heart her vaffal.

Lep. Well met here.

Pom. I hope fo, Lepidus, thus we are agreed: I crave, our compofition may be written

And feal'd between us.

Caf. That's the next to do.

Pom. We'll feat each other, ere we part, and let's

Draw lots who shall begin.

Ant. That will I, Fompey.

Pom. No, Antony, take the lot:

But firft or laft, your fine Egyptian cookery,
Shall have the fame. I've heard, that Julius Cæfar

Grew fat with feafting there.

Ant. You have heard much.

Pom. I have fair meaning, Sir.