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Front Page Titles (by Subject) Scene V.—: Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. - Anthony and Cleopatra
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Scene V.—: Alexandria. A Room in the Palace. - William Shakespeare, Anthony and Cleopatra [1623]Edition used:The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (The Oxford Shakespeare), ed. with a glossary by W.J. Craig M.A. (Oxford University Press, 1916).
Part of: The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (The Oxford Shakespeare)About Liberty Fund:Liberty Fund, Inc. is a private, educational foundation established to encourage the study of the ideal of a society of free and responsible individuals. Copyright information:The text is in the public domain. Fair use statement:This material is put online to further the educational goals of Liberty Fund, Inc. Unless otherwise stated in the Copyright Information section above, this material may be used freely for educational and academic purposes. It may not be used in any way for profit.
Scene V.—Alexandria. A Room in the Palace.EnterCleopatra, Charmian, Iras, Alexas,and Attendant. Cleo.Give me some music; music, moody food Of us that trade in love. Attend.The music, ho! EnterMardian. Cleo.Let it alone; let ’s to billiards: come, Charmian. Char.My arm is sore; best play with Mardian. Cleo.As well a woman with a eunuch play’d As with a woman. Come, you ’ll play with me, sir? Mar.As well as I can, madam. Cleo.And when good will is show’d, though’t come too short, The actor may plead pardon. I ’ll none now. Give me mine angle; we’ll to the river: there— My music 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—O 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 Philippan. Enter a Messenger. O! from Italy; Ram thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears, That long time have been barren. Mess.Madam, madam,— Cleo.Antony’s dead! if thou say so, villain, Thou kill’st thy mistress; but well and free, If thou so yield him, there is gold, and here My bluest veins to kiss; a hand that kings Have lipp’d, and trembled kissing. Mess.First, madam, he is well. Cleo.Why, there’s more gold. But, sirrah, mark, we use To 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, so tart a favour To trumpet such good tidings! if not well, Thou shouldst 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, I’ll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail Rich pearls upon thee. Mess.Madam, he’s well. Cleo.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 from me. Mess.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 gaoler to bring forth Some monstrous malefactor. Prithee, friend, Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear, The good and bad together. He’s friends with Cæsar; In state of health, thou sayst; and thou sayst, free. Mess.Free, madam! no; I made no such report: He’s bound unto Octavia. 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! [Strikes him down. Mess.Good madam, patience. Cleo.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 lingering 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 thee with what gift beside Thy modesty can beg. Mess.He’s married, madam. Cleo.Rogue! thou hast liv’d too long. [Draws a knife. Mess.Nay, then I’ll run. 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 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. [ExitCharmian. These hands do lack nobility, that they strike A meaner than myself; since I myself Have given myself the cause. Re-enterCharmian,and Messenger. Come hither, sir. Though it be honest, it is never good To bring bad news; give to a gracious message A 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 wouldst 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’s 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.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. [ExitAlexas. Let him forever go:—let him not—Charmian!— Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon, The other way’s a Mars. [ToMardian.] Bid you Alexas Bring me word how tall she is. Pity me, Charmian, But do not speak to me. Lead me to my chamber. [Exeunt. |

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