Antony and Cleopatra

Lord Alexas, sweet Alexas, most anything Alexas, almost the most consummate Alexas, where’s the fortuneteller you recommended so highly to the Queen? Oh, I only wish I knew the name of that husband you said he predicted will have a cheating wife!

(calling) Fortuneteller!

What can I do for you?

(to ALEXAS) Is this the man you recommended? (to the FORTUNETELLER) Are you the man who knows the future?

I can understand a few of nature’s infinite secrets.

(to CHARMIAN) Give him your hand to read.

(to the servants) Bring the dessert in right away, and make sure there’s enough wine to toast Cleopatra’s health.

(giving her hand to the FORTUNETELLER) Kind sir, give me a good fortune.

I don’t make fortunes; I only see them.

Then see a good one for me.

Your beauty will be even greater than it is now.

(to the others) He means I’ll get fat.

No, he means you’ll use makeup when you’re old.

May my wrinkles forbid that!

Don’t joke about his predictions. Pay attention.

Quiet!

You will love more than you are loved.

I would rather get passion from drink than from love.

Just listen to him.

Be kind now and tell me some excellent fortune. Tell me that I’ll marry three kings before noon and be widowed by all of them. Tell me I’ll have a child when I’m fifty who will be honored even by Herod of Judea. Let me marry Octavius Caesar and become my Queen’s equal.

You will outlive the Queen.

Oh, excellent! I love long life better than figs.

You have already had better fortune than the future will bring.

Then my children will probably be illegitimate. Tell me, please: how many boys and girls will I have?

If every time you wished for a child you could have had one, you would have a million children.

Get out of here, you fool! Since you’re a fortuneteller I won’t bring charges of witchcraft against you.

You seem to think no one outside of your bedroom knows what you wish.

(to FORTUNETELLER) Never mind. Tell Iras’ fortune.

We’ll all want our fortune told.

My fortune—like that of many of us tonight—is to go drunk to bed.

(giving her hand to the FORTUNETELLER) There’s a palm that will predict a chaste life, if nothing else.

Like the overflowing Nile predicts famine.

Oh stop it, you lusty bed-hopper. You can’t see the future.

Well, if a moist palm isn’t a clear sign of promiscuity, then I can’t scratch my own ear. (to FORTUNETELLER) Please, tell her an ordinary fortune.

Your fortunes are the same.

But how? How is that possible? Give me details.

I’ve said what I have to say.

Isn’t my fortune just a little better than hers? By an inch, even?

Well, if you could have just an inch of better fortune than me, where would you like the improvement?

Not in my husband’s nose.

May heaven save us from indecent thoughts! Alexas! (to the FORTUNETELLER) Come and tell his fortune. Let him marry a woman he can’t satisfy, dear Isis, I pray! And then let her die, and give him someone worse. Then let her die, and let her replacement be even worse. And so on until the last one, who is unfaithful with at least fifty other men and laughs at him until he dies. I beg you to grant my prayer, good Isis, even though it means you deny me something more important for myself. Good Isis, I beg you!

Amen, dear goddess. Listen to our prayer. If it’s sad to see a handsome man with a cheating wife, it’s a tragedy to see an ugly thug with a wife who’s faithful. Therefore, dear Isis, do the right thing and give him the fortune he deserves.

Amen.

(to himself) See! If they could make me a cuckold, they’d whore themselves in order to see it done.

Quiet! Here comes Antony.

It’s not him; it’s the Queen.

Have you seen my lord?

No, lady.

Wasn’t he here?

No, madam.

He was in a good mood, and then suddenly he started thinking of Rome. Enobarbus?

Madam?

Find him and bring him here. Where’s Alexas?

Here, at your service. Here comes my lord.

I won’t see him. Everyone come with me.

Your wife, Fulvia, mustered her army first.

Against my brother Lucius?

Yes. But that war ended as soon as circumstances made it advisable for them to join together against Caesar. But in their very first battle, Caesar won and drove them out of Italy.

Well, give me the worst news.

The bearer of bad news is often blamed for it.

Only if the hearer is a fool or a coward. Go on. As far as I’m concerned, what’s past is done. It’s like this: as long as a person tells me the truth, even though it means my death, I will listen as though he praised me.

The news is disturbing. Labienus, with the army he led in Parthia, has conquered all of Asia, all the way to the Euphrates River, including Syria, Lydia, and Ionia, while—

“While Antony . . .” is what you want to say.

Oh, my lord!

Speak plainly. Don’t tone down what the people are saying. Call Cleopatra what the Romans call her. Use Fulvia’s abusive language. Freely scold me for my faults with as much severity as an enemy with truth on his side. It’s easy to err when left to our own devices, but criticism helps us to see our faults and correct them.

Good-bye for a while.

I’ll be at your service.

What’s the news from Sicyon. Tell me.

The man from Sicyon—

Is he here?

He’s waiting outside.

Have him come in.

(to himself) I must break Cleopatra’s powerful hold over me or else I’ll lose myself in foolish infatuation.

What’s your message?

Your wife, Fulvia, is dead.

Where did she die?

In Sicyon. In this letter you’ll find details of her illness and other, more serious matters that concern you.

Leave me.

(to himself) A great spirit has gone from the world! This is what I wanted. Once it’s gone, the very thing we reject becomes what we desire. What’s enjoyable one day becomes the opposite as time rolls around. Now that she’s gone, I want her. Now I would call her back, though I pushed her away. I have to break from this beguiling Queen. The time I’ve wasted here has caused ten thousand more problems than the ones I know about. (calling) Are you there, Enobarbus?

What would you like, sir?

I have to leave right away.

That will kill our lovers. We know how much they suffer if we are unkind to them. If we leave, it will feel like nothing less than death to them.

I must be gone.

If it’s that important, then let the women die. It would be a pity to throw them away for nothing, but if it’s a matter of choosing between them and a great cause, then they’re worthless. If Cleopatra hears even a breath of this, she’ll die immediately. I’ve seen her claim to be dying twenty times before, and for far less reason. I think there must be something invigorating about death, since she dies with such enthusiasm.

She’s more cunning than anyone can imagine.

Alas, sir, no, her feelings come from pure love, not cleverness. Her sighs and tears are like great winds and floods. She has more storms and tempests in her than a weather almanac. Her temper is not a trick or a skill—if it is, she can make it rain as well as Jove.

I wish I’d never seen her!

Then you’d have missed an amazing piece of work, sir, and your trip would have been poorer for the loss.

Fulvia is dead.

Pardon me?

Fulvia is dead.

Fulvia?

Dead.

Then you should offer the gods a sacrifice to show your thanks. When a man’s wife dies, he can be comforted by the knowledge that there are replacements to be found. If Fulvia were the last woman on earth, there would be a reason to grieve. But in this way, grief and comfort appear together. The only kind of tears you should shed in this case are the kind you might get from holding an onion to your nose.

I must go and continue the business Fulvia started.

The business you began here needs you as well—especially the business with Cleopatra, which only you can attend to.

Enough of this frivolous talk. Give our officers notice of our intentions. I’ll tell the Queen the reason for our quick departure and get her permission to leave. Fulvia’s death and the pressing concerns related to it are not the only reasons I am eager to go; friends in Rome have also sent many letters advising my return. Sextus Pompeius has challenged Caesar. His fleet controls the sea. Our fickle citizens—who never reward service until that service is over—are now giving all the rights and honors won by Pompey the Great to his son, Sextus. Sextus has great honor and power, and his spirit and energy are even greater, all of which makes him the most formidable soldier in the empire. The empire may be in danger if he’s not restrained before he reaches his full potential. There are many troubles brewing now that have yet to become full-fledged threats. Like horse’s hairs dropped in a bucket of water, they come alive like snakes but as yet they bear no poison. Relay our intentions to the officers who will be in charge of the move.

I will.