MESSENGER.
Madam he's married to Octavia.
CLEOPATRA.
The most infectious pestilence upon thee!
[Strikes him down.
MESSENGER.
Good madam, patience.
CLEOPATRA.
What say you? [Strikes him again.
Hence horrible villain! or I'll spurn thine eyes
Like balls before me—I'll unhair thine head—
Thou shalt be whipp'd with wire, and stewed in brine
Smarting in ling'ring pickle.
MESSENGER.
Gracious madam!
I, that do bring the news, made not the match.