Page:Antony and Cleopatra (1921) Yale.djvu/50

38

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.

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?

 22 tires: head-dresses

23 his sword Philippan; cf. n.

38 so tart a favour: so sour an appearance

41 formal: ordinary

