CLEOPATRA.
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.
MESSENGER.
Good madam, hear me.
CLEOPATRA.
Well, go to, I will.
But there's no goodness in thy face. If Antony
Be free and healthful, why so tart a favor
To trumpet such good tidings? If not well,
Thou should'st come like a fury crown'd with snakes.
MESSENGER.
Wil't please you hear me?
CLEOPATRA.
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.