Lep. Your way is fhorter, My purposes do draw me much about; Both. Sir, good fuccefs. [Exeunt. Cleo. SCENE V. Changes to the Palace in Alexandria. Enter Cleopatra, Charmion, Iras, and Alexas. Of us that trade in love Omnes. The mufick, hoa! Enter Mardian the Eunuch. Cleo. Let it alone, let's to billiards: come, Charmion. Char. My arm is fore, beft play with Mardian. Cleo. As well a woman with an Eunuch play'd, As with a woman. Come, you'll play with me, Sir? Mer. As well as I can, Madam. Cleo. And when good will is fhew'd, tho't come too short, The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now. 1-mufick, moody food] The mood, is the mind, or mental difpofition. Van Haaren's panegyrick on the English begins, Groot-moedig Volk, [great-minded Nation.] Perhaps here is a poor jeft intended between mood the mind and moods of mufick. Tawny-finn'd fif-1 The firft copy reads, Tawney fine fifb. 5 Their Their flimy jaws; and, as I draw them up, Char. 'Twas merry, when when your diver You wager'd on your angling; Cleo. That time!-oh times! I laught him out of patience, and that night Enter a Meffenger. Ram thou thy fruitful tidings in mine ears, Mef. Madam! Madam! Cleo. Antony's dead?- If thou fay fo, villain, thou kill'ft thy mistress; If fo thou yield him, there is gold, and here Mef. Firft, Madam, he is well. Cleo. Why, there's more gold. But, firrah, mark, we use To say, the dead are well; bring it to that, Mef. Good Madam, hear me. But there's no goodness in thy face. If Antony Mef. Will't please you hear me? Cleo. I have a mind to ftrike thee, ere thou speak'st; Yet, if thou fay Antony lives, 'tis well, Or friends with Cafar, or not captive to him, s I'll fet thee in a fhower of gold, and hail Rich pearls upon thee. Mef. Madam, he's well. Cleo. Well faid. Mef. And friends with Cafar. Cleo. Thour't an honeft man. Mef. Cæfar, and he, are greater friends than ever, Cleo. Make thee a fortune from me. 4 Not like a formal man.] Formal, for ordinary. WARB. Rather decent, regular. the gorgeous Eaft with liberal Showers on her Kings barbarie pearl and gold, In the life of Timur-bec or Tamerlane, written by a Perfian contemporary author, are the following words, as tranflated by Monfieur Petit de la Croix, in the account there given of his coronation, Book ii. chap. 1. Les Princes du fang royal & les Emirs repandirent à pleines mains fur fa téte quantitè d'or & de pierreries felon la coûtume. WARB. Mef. Mef. But yet, Madam Cleo. I do not like but yet; it does allay Some monftrous Malefactor. Pr'ythee, friend, The good and bad together. He's friends with Cæfar, Cleo. For what good turn? Mef. For the best turn i' th' bed. Cleo. I am pale, Charmion. Mef. Madam, he's married to Octavia. Clea. The most infectious peftilence upon thee! Mef. Good Madam, patience. Cleo. What fay you? [Strikes him down. [Strikes him. Hence, horrible villain, or I'll fpurn thine eyes Like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head; [She bales bim up and down. Thou shalt be whipt with wire, and stew'd in brine, Smarting in lingring pickle. Mef. Gracious Madam, I, that do bring the news, made, not the match. Cleo. Say, 'tis not fo, a province I will give thee, And make thy fortunes proud; the blow, thou hadft, Shall make thy peace, for moving me to rage, And I will boot thee with what gift befide Thy modefty can beg. Mef. He's married, Madam. Cleo. Rogue, thou haft liv'd too long. Mef. Nay, then I'll run: [Draws a Kne. What mean you, Madam? I have made no fault. [Exit. Char. Good Madam, keep yourself within yourself, The The man is innocent. Cleo. Some innocents 'fcape not the thunderboltMelt Egypt into Nile; and kindly creatures Turn all to ferpents! Call the flave again, Though I am mad, I will not bite him. Call. Char. He is afraid to come. Cleo, I will not hurt him. These hands do lack nobility, that they strike Re-enter the Messenger. Though it be honeft, it is never good To bring bad news. Give to a gracious meffage An host of tongues, but let ill tidings tell Themfelves, when they be felt. Mef. I have done my duty. Cleo. Is he married? I cannot hate thee worfer than I do, If you again fay, Yes. Mef. He's married, Madam. Cleo. The Gods confound thee! doft thou hold there ftill? Mef. Should I lye, Madam? Cleo. Oh, I would, thou didst ; So half my Egypt were fubmerg'd, and made Cleo. He is married?. Mef. 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. Oh, that his fault fhould make a knave of thee, That |