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.

Cleo. Rogue! thou hast liv'd too long.

Mess.

He's married, madam.

[Draws a Dagger. Nay, then I'll run.—

[Exit.

What mean you, madam? I have made no fault.

Char. Good madam, keep yourself within yourself: The man is innocent.

Cleo. Some innocents 'scape not the thunder-bolt.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.

I will not hurt him.

Cleo.
These hands do lack nobility, that they strike
A meaner than myself; since I myself

Have given myself the cause.-Come hither, sir.

Re-enter 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.

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 would'st 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 is 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.

Lead me from hence;

I am paid for't now.

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 for ever go:-let him not-Charmian, Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon,

8 O! that his fault should make a knave of thee,

That art not! What! thou'rt sure of?] Our punctuation of this disputed passage is that of Monck Mason; but he wished also to read, “What! thou'rt sure of 't?"—a slight change, indeed, but as it is not absolutely necessary, we do not carry our variation from the old copies farther than changing the pointing in the folio, 1623, it stands,

"O that his fault should make a knave of thee,

That art not what thou'rt sure of."

This, it must be admitted, is far from intelligible. By the words "What! thou'rt sure of?" Cleopatra intends to inquire of the messenger once more, whether he is certain of the tidings he has brought. The meaning of the first part of the passage, as we have given it, is very evident.

The other way he's a Mars'.-Bid you Alexas

[TO MARDIAN. Bring me word, how tall she is.-Pity me, Charmian, But do not speak to me.-Lead me to my chamber.

[Exeunt.

Flourish.

SCENE VI.

Near Misenum.

Enter POMPEY and MENAS, at one side', with Drum and Trumpet: at another, CESAR, LEPIDUS, ANTONY, ENOBARBUS, MECENAS, with Soldiers marching.

Pom. Your hostages I have, so have you mine; And we shall talk before we fight.

Cæs.

Most meet,

That first we come to words; and therefore have we

Our written purposes before us sent,

Which, if thou hast consider'd, let us know

If 'twill tie up thy discontented sword,

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; since Julius Cæsar,
Who at Philippi the good Brutus ghosted,
There saw you labouring for him.
What was it,
That mov'd pale Cassius to conspire? And what

The other way he's a Mars.] Thus corruptly printed in the folio, 1623, "The other wayes a Mars.”

1 Flourish. Enter Pompey and Menas, at one side,]

In the old stage

direction, Menas is inserted as if he were one of the friends and followers of Cæsar.

Made all-honoured, honest, Roman Brutus2,

With the arm'd rest, 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 whose burden
The anger'd ocean foams; with which I meant
To scourge th' ingratitude that despiteful Rome
Cast on my noble father.

Cæs.

Take your time.

Ant. Thou canst not fear us3, Pompey, with thy sails; We'll speak with thee at sea: at land, thou know'st How much we do o'er-count thee.

At land, indeed,

Pom.
Thou dost o'er-count me of my father's house*:
But, since the cuckoo builds not for himself,
Remain in't as thou may'st.

Lep.

(For this is from the present) how you take

The offers we have sent you.

Cæs.

Be pleas'd to tell us,

There's the point.

Ant. Which do not be entreated to, but weigh What it is worth embrac'd.

Cæs.

To try a larger fortune.

Pom.

And what may follow,

You have made me offer

Of Sicily, Sardinia; and I must

Rid all the sea of pirates; then, to send

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

2 Made all honoured, honest, Roman Brutus,] "Honoured" is to be read as three syllables, and then the particle "the," inserted before "all," by the editor of the second folio, is unnecessary.

3 Thou canst not FEAR us,] i. e. alarm, frighten us. See Vol. iv. p. 430; Vol. v. pp. 294. 323.

4 Thou dost O'ER-COUNT me of my father's house:] "O'er-count" is here used equivocally, as Malone remarks, with reference to the fact, stated by Plutarch, that Antony had possessed himself by purchase of the dwelling of Pompey's father.

Cæs. Ant. Lep. 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 some impatience.-Though I lose
The praise of it by telling, you must know,
When Cæsar 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' the east are soft; and thanks to you, That call'd me timelier than my purpose hither,

For I have gain'd by it.

Cæs.

Since I saw you last,

Well, I know not

There is a change upon you.

Pom.

What counts harsh fortune casts upon my face,

But in my bosom shall she never come,

To make my heart her vassal.

Lep.

Well met here.

Pom. I hope so, Lepidus.-Thus we are agreed. I crave, our composition may be written,

And seal'd between us.

Cæs.

That's the next to do.

Pom. We'll feast each other, ere we part; and let us Draw lots who shall begin.

Ant.

That will I, Pompey.

Pom. No, Antony, take the lot; but, first

Or last, your fine Egyptian cookery

Shall have the fame. I have heard, that Julius Cæsar

Grew fat with feasting there.

Ant.

You have heard much.

Pom. I have fair meanings, sir.