CLEOPATRA. What, was he sad or merry? 

 ALEXAS. Like to the time o’ th’ year between the extremes Of hot and cold, he was nor sad nor merry. 

 CLEOPATRA. O well-divided disposition!—Note him, Note him, good Charmian, ’tis the man; but note him: He was not sad, for he would shine on those That make their looks by his; he was not merry, Which seemed to tell them his remembrance lay In Egypt with his joy; but between both. O heavenly mingle!—Be’st thou sad or merry, The violence of either thee becomes, So does it no man else.—Met’st thou my posts? 

 ALEXAS. Ay, madam, twenty several messengers. Why do you send so thick? 

 CLEOPATRA. Who’s born that day When I forget to send to Antony Shall die a beggar.—Ink and paper, Charmian.— Welcome, my good Alexas.—Did I, Charmian, Ever love Caesar so? 

 CHARMIAN. O that brave Caesar! 

 CLEOPATRA. Be choked with such another emphasis! Say “the brave Antony.” 

 CHARMIAN. The valiant Caesar! 

 CLEOPATRA. By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth If thou with Caesar paragon again My man of men. 

 CHARMIAN. By your most gracious pardon, I sing but after you. 

 CLEOPATRA. My salad days, When I was green in judgment, cold in blood, To say as I said then. But come, away, Get me ink and paper. He shall have every day a several greeting, Or I’ll unpeople Egypt. 

 [Exeunt.] 

 

 ACT II

 SCENE I. Messina. A Room in Pompey’s house.

 Enter Pompey, Menecrates and Menas in warlike manner. 

Pompey, Menecrates

Menas

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