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 ling'ring pickle.
I that do bring the news made not the match.
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.
He's married, madam.
Rogue, thou hast liv'd too long.
[Draws a dagger.]
Nay, then I'll run. —
What mean you, madam? I have made no fault.
Good madam, keep yourself within yourself:
The man is innocent.
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!
He is afear'd to come.
I will not hurt him.
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
An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell
Themselves when they be felt.
I have done my duty.
Is he married?
I cannot hate thee worser than I do
If thou again say 'Yes.'
He's married, madam.
The gods confound thee! dost thou hold there still!
Should I lie, madam?
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?
I crave your highness' pardon.
He is married?
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.
O, that his fault should make a knave of thee
That art not what tho'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!
Good your highness, patience.
In praising Antony I have disprais'd Caesar.
Many times, madam.
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.
Let him for ever go: — let him not, Charmian —
Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon,
T'other way he'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.