MESSENGER              Good madam, hear me.

CLEOPATRA   Well, go to, I will.

But there’s no goodness in thy face. If Antony

Be free and healthful, so tart a favour

To trumpet such good tidings! If not well,

Thou shouldst come like a Fury crowned with snakes,

Not like a formal man.

MESSENGER              Will’t please you hear me?

CLEOPATRA   I have a mind to strike thee ere thou speak’st.

Yet if thou say Antony lives, is well,

Or friends with Caesar, or not captive to him,

I’ll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail

Rich pearls upon thee.                      (2.5.35-46)

The messenger pleads, politely: good madam, hear me. If I could just deliver my message? Well, get on with it then. Alright, go to, I will. But—there’s no goodness in thy face. The way you’re looking, your expression; I’m worried. If Antony be free and healthful, if he really is well, you’re not looking very pleased about it. And so tart a favour (a sharp, bitter expression; it’s all in the shape of the mouth: good news of Antony should be delicious, something to be savoured) to trumpet such good tidings! It doesn’t add up. I’m suspicious of your unsmiling, neutral expression. And, by the same token, if Antony were not well, you should come like a Fury crowned with snakes, a figure of tragedy and vengeance, not like a formal man, so—normal. (Cleopatra is the anti-Iago; she wears her heart upon her sleeve, excessively. She can’t understand people who don’t; she’s troubled when she can’t read people.)

Will’t please you hear me? Can I, just? Poor messenger. Not least because Cleopatra’s getting more and more worried, more threatened by—and so aggressive towards—this poor functionary. I have a mind to strike thee ere thou speak’st. Just to get it out of the way. Just so all my—feelings—have somewhere to go. (Cleopatra lives on her nerves, full of adrenaline; this is partly why the scene has started with her contemplating activity after activity, not just to pass the time, but to calm herself down. She’s not unrelated to Mercutio or Hotspur in that respect, although she can certainly do languor too.) But, fair play: if you say that Antony lives, is well, or friends with Caesar, or not captive to him (good scenario, better, even better; not quite as good but not bad) I’ll set thee in a shower of gold, even more than I’ve just given you, and hail rich pearls upon thee. (Even Cleopatra’s rewards have a kind of violence to them.)