Messenger: Most gracious majesty,--
CLEOPATRA: Didst thou behold Octavia?
Messenger: Ay, dread queen.
CLEOPATRA: Where? 
Messenger: Madam, in Rome;
I look'd her in the face, and saw her led
Between her brother and Mark Antony.
CLEOPATRA: Is she as tall as me?
Messenger: She is not, madam.
CLEOPATRA: Didst hear her speak? is she shrill-tongued or low? 
Messenger: Madam, I heard her speak; she is low-voiced.
CLEOPATRA: That's not so good: he cannot like her long.
CHARMIAN: Like her! O Isis! 'tis impossible.
CLEOPATRA: I think so, Charmian: dull of tongue, and dwarfish!
What majesty is in her gait? Remember, 
If e'er thou look'dst on majesty.
Messenger: She creeps:
Her motion and her station are as one;
She shows a body rather than a life,
A statue than a breather.
CLEOPATRA: Is this certain?
Messenger: Or I have no observance. 
CHARMIAN: Three in Egypt
Cannot make better note.
CLEOPATRA: He's very knowing;
I do perceive't: there's nothing in her yet:
The fellow has good judgment.
CLEOPATRA: Guess at her years, I prithee.
She was a widow,-- 
CLEOPATRA: Widow! Charmian, hark.
Messenger: And I do think she's thirty.
CLEOPATRA: Bear'st thou her face in mind? is't long or round?
Messenger: Round even to faultiness.
CLEOPATRA: For the most part, too, they are foolish that are so.
Her hair, what colour? 
Messenger: Brown, madam: and her forehead
As low as she would wish it.
CLEOPATRA: There's gold for thee.
Thou must not take my former sharpness ill:
I will employ thee back again; I find thee
Most fit for business: go make thee ready; 
Our letters are prepared.