[Enter the Messenger again with Charmian]

CLEOPATRA                           Come hither, sir.

Though it be honest, it is never good

To bring bad news. Give to a gracious message

An host of tongues, but let ill tidings tell

Themselves when they be felt.

MESSENGER                          I have done my duty.

CLEOPATRA   Is he married?

I cannot hate thee worser than I do

If thou again say ‘Yes’.

MESSENGER              He’s married, madam.          (2.5.84-92)

This is just very funny, even as it’s tense, for both Cleopatra (who is of course more devastated by this than she can express) and the messenger (who is mortally afraid of her). And she is, of course, also speaking the truth, after her politely conciliatory greeting: Come hither, sir. (He hangs back, stands half behind Charmian, is prepared to bolt again in an instant.) Though it be honest, it is never good to bring bad news. Truth. Messengers, they get shot. Give to a gracious message an host of tongues: when you bring glad tidings, you can sing them from the rooftops. But let ill tidings tell themselves when they be felt; it’s better just to let bad news speak for itself, percolate out, spread by osmosis. (This is cold comfort to a professional messenger, obviously. He doesn’t get the choice.) I have done my duty, he says, stiffly, or anxiously, reminding her again that he was only doing his job, he didn’t make the marriage, he just brought the news of it. Is he married? asks Cleopatra, starkly, simply. Perhaps with the ghost of a smile, after all, I cannot hate thee worser than I do if thou again say ‘yes’. The news can’t get worse, either, and I can’t shoot you twice (well…) He’s married, madam. Yup. No denying it, no refuting it, no unhearing it or unwishing it. Antony’s married.