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. 88
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? 92
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 96
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 100
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 104
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.
94 So: even though
103 That art not what thou'rt sure of; cf. n.
