SCENE IV. The same. A Street. Enter LEPIDUS, MECENAS, and AGRIPPA. Lep. Trouble yourselves no further: pray you, hasten Your generals after. Agr. Sir, Mark Antony you your Will e'en but kiss Octavia, and we'll follow. Lep. My purposes do draw me much about; We shall, Your way is shorter, You'll win two days upon me. Mec. Agr. Lep. Farewell. SCENE V. Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. Enter CLEOPATRA, CHARMIAN, IRAs, and ALEXAS. Cleo. Give me some musick; musick, moody2 food Of us that trade in love. Attend. The musick, ho! Enter MARDIAN. Cleo. Let it alone; let us 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? 1 Mount Misenum. 2 Moody here means melancholy. Cotgrave explains moody by the French words morne, triste. 3 It is scarcely necessary to remark that this is an anachronism. Billiards were not known to the ancients. Mar. As well as I can, madam. Cleo. And when good will is show'd, though it come too short, The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now :— Give me mine angle,—We'll to the river: there, My musick 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!-0 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 Philippan5. O! from Italy; 6 Enter a Messenger. Rain thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears, 4 This circumstance is from Plutarch: Antony had fished unsuccessfully in Cleopatra's presence, and she laughed at him. The next time therefore he directed the boatman to dive under water, and attach a fish to his hook. The queen perceived the stratagem, but affecting not to notice it, congratulated him on his success. Another time, however, she determined to laugh at him once more, and gave orders to her own people to get the start of his divers, and put some dried salt fish on his hook. 5 The battle of Philippi being the greatest action of Antony's life, it was an adroit piece of flattery to name his sword from it. It does not, however, appear to be perfectly in costume; the dignifying of weapons with names in this manner had its origin in later times. The swords of the heroes of romance have generally pompous names. The old copy reads Ram thou,' &c. Rain agrees better with the epithets fruitful and barren. So in Timon: Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear.' Mess. Cleo. Antony's dead?— Madam, madam, If thou say so, villain, thou kill'st thy mistress: But well and free, If thou so yield him, there is gold, and here To Mess. First, madam, he's well. Cleo. Why, there's more gold. But, sirrah, mark; We use 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,-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". 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, Mess. Cleo. Madam, he's well. Well said. Mess. And friends with Cæsar. 7 i. e. not like a man in form, not in your own proper shape. Thus in A Mad World my Masters, by Middleton, 1608:'The very devil assum'd thee formally.' 8 That is, I will give thee a kingdom, it being the eastern ceremony at the coronation of their kings to powder them with gold dust and seed pearl. So Milton: the gorgeous east, with liberal hand, Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold.' See the Life of Tunur Bec, or Tamerlane, by M. Petit de la Croix, liv. ii. c. 2. Cleo. Thou'rt an honest man. Mess. Cæsar and he are greater friends than ever. Mess. Some monstrous malefactor. Pr'ythee, friend, The good and bad together: He's friend with Cæsar; 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! [She hates him up and down. Thou shalt be whipp'd with wire, and stew'd in brine, Smarting in ling'ring 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 10 thee with what gift beside Thy modesty can beg. 9 i. e. abates the good quality of what is already reported. 10 Profit thee, recompense thee. VOL. VIII. PP Mess. He's married, madam. Cleo. Rogue, thou hast liv'd too long. [Draws a Dagger. Nay, then I'll run:— Mess. What mean you, madam? I have made no fault. [Exit. Char. Good madam, keep yourself within yourself11; 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:These hands do lack nobility, that they strike A meaner than myself; since I myself 12 Have given myself the cause.-Come hither, sir. Re-enter Messenger. Though it be honest, it is never good 12 To bring bad news: Give to a gracious message An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell Themselves, when they be felt. Mess. Cleo. Is he married? I have done my duty, I cannot hate thee worser than I do, If thou again say, Yes. Mess. He is married, madam. Cleo. The gods confound thee! dost thou hold there still? Mess. Should I lie, madam? 11 Contain yourself, restrain your passion within bounds.' So in The Taming of the Shrew : 'Doubt not, my lord, we can contain ourselves.' 12 This thought seems to be borrowed from the laws of chivalry, which forbade a knight to engage with his inferior. |