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' the 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? Hence,
[Strikes him again]
Horrible villain! or I'll spurn thine eyes
Like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head:
[She hales him up and down]
Thou shalt be whipp'd with wire, and stew'd in brine,
Smarting in lingering pickle.
Messenger Gracious madam,
I that do bring the news made not the match.
CLEOPATRA Say 'tis not so, a province I will give thee,
And make thy fortunes proud: the blow thou hadst
Shall make thy peace for moving me to rage;
And I will boot thee with what gift beside
Thy modesty can beg.
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