CLEOPATRA.
I do not like “But yet”, it does allay
The good precedence. Fie upon “But yet”!
“But yet” is as a gaoler to bring forth
Some monstrous malefactor. Prithee, friend,
Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear,
The good and bad together: he’s friends with Caesar,
In state of health, thou say’st; and, thou say’st, free.
MESSENGER.
Free, madam? No. I made no such report.
He’s bound unto Octavia.
CLEOPATRA.
For what good turn?
MESSENGER.
For the best turn i’ th’ bed.
CLEOPATRA.
I am pale, Charmian.
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?