Ant. How she mourned,
The poor forsaken creature!
Vent. She took it as she ought; she bore your parting
As she did Cæsar's, as she would another's,
Were a new love to come.
Ant. Thou dost belie her;[Aloud.
Most basely, and maliciously belie her.
Vent. I thought not to displease you; I have done.
Octav. You seem disturbed, my lord.[Coming up.
Ant. A very trifle.
Retire, my love.
Vent. It was indeed a trifle.
He sent—
Ant. No more. Look how thou disobeyest me;[Angrily.
Thy life shall answer it.
Octav. Then 'tis no trifle.
Vent. [To Octav.]
'Tis less; a very nothing: You too saw it,
As well as I, and therefore 'tis no secret.