CLEOPATRA.
Is he married?
I cannot hate thee worser than I do
If thou again say “Yes.”
MESSENGER.
He’s married, madam.
CLEOPATRA.
The gods confound thee! Dost thou hold there still!
MESSENGER.
Should I lie, madam?
CLEOPATRA.
O, I would thou didst,
So half my Egypt were submerged and made
A cistern for scaled snakes! Go, get thee hence.
Hadst thou Narcissus in thy face, to me
Thou wouldst appear most ugly. He is married?
MESSENGER.
I crave your highness’ pardon.
CLEOPATRA.
He is married?
MESSENGER.
Take no offence that I would not offend you.
To punish me for what you make me do
Seems much unequal. He’s married to Octavia.
CLEOPATRA.
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
Are all too dear for me. Lie they upon thy hand,
And be undone by ’em!
[Exit Messenger.]