Antony and Cleopatra

What are we going to do, Enobarbus?

Think about our situation, then die.

Who is to blame for this: Antony or I?

Only Antony was at fault. He put his desire in charge of his reason. So what if you ran from the battle, terrified, as ranks of ships threatened one another? Why should he have followed you? With half the world opposing the other half, it wasn’t the time for Antony, the pivotal player, to let love distract him. To race after your departing ships, leaving his navy to watch, was a shame as great as the resulting loss.

Please, let’s not talk about it.

Is that his answer?

Yes, my lord.

The Queen will be treated fairly if she gives me up?

That’s what he says.

Tell her. (to CLEOPATRA) If you send my aged head to that boy, Caesar, he’ll give you all the kingdoms you want.

Your head, my lord?

(to the AMBASSADOR) Go back to him. Tell him that his cheeks still bear the pink flush of youth, and that the world expects to see something remarkable from him. His treasure, his navy, and his armies might belong to a coward, and his ministers might be able to succeed just as well on behalf of a child as under the command of Caesar. Therefore, I dare him to lay aside his fancy trappings and meet this old man in single combat, sword against sword, just the two of us. I’ll write the challenge. Follow me.

(aside) Oh, that’s likely! Caesar, the great commander of troops, will surely risk all he has gained in order to fight this gladiator in the public square! I see that men’s judgments are tied to their fortunes, and that external factors influence a man’s internal qualities, making everything suffer. How could Antony, knowing how luck stood on either side, still imagine that Caesar would respond to his nonsense! Caesar, you’ve conquered his judgment too.

A messenger has arrived from Caesar.

With no more ceremony than that? See, ladies, how they scorn me now. They pinch their noses to avoid smelling the dying rose whose scent, as a bud, they happily inhaled. Show him in, sir.

(aside) My integrity and I begin to contradict each other. Being loyal to a fool makes loyalty foolish. But a person who can bear to keep his allegiance to a defeated lord defeats his lord’s conqueror and earns a place in history.

What does Caesar want?

It is for your ears only.

There are only friends here. Speak confidently.

So they are possibly Antony’s friends.

Sir, he should have as many as Caesar has. If he had that many friends, then he wouldn’t need us. If Caesar chose, Antony would jump at the chance to be his friend. As for us, you know we are Antony’s, and he is Caesar’s.

So be it. This, then, this is the message Caesar sends to you, famous Queen: he implores you not to be concerned about your situation. Just remember that he is Caesar.

Respectfully put. Go on.

He knows that you didn’t embrace Antony because you loved him, but because you feared him.

Oh!

So he regrets that any dishonorable acts were forced on you, not being performed of your own free will.

He is like a god and knows the truth. My honor wasn’t given; it was only dominated.

(aside) I’ll go get the truth of this from Antony. Sir, sir, are you so badly off that we must abandon you to your fate? Even your dearest friend has abandoned you.

Shall I tell Caesar what you request from him? He almost begs for the opportunity to help you. It would please him very much if you would rely on his wealth and success to support you. But he would feel even better if I could tell him that you had left Antony and put yourself under his protection.

What’s your name?

My name is Thidias.

Most kind messenger, tell great Caesar that through his deputy I kiss his conquering hand. Tell him I am ready to lay my crown at his feet and kneel before him. Tell him—whose decrees are obeyed by the whole world—that I will accept the fate he chooses for Egypt.

That’s your most dignified course of action. When confronted with the choice between a prudent action and a risky one, a wise man should dare to do only what he can practically accomplish—if he follows this course, he will never be subjected to unpredictable chance. Allow me to pay my respects by kissing your hand.

When Octavius Caesar’s father thought about conquering kingdoms, he rained kisses on my unworthy hand.

Promising favors? By Jove that thunders! Who are you, slave?

A person who merely follows the orders of the best man, the man most worthy of service.

You will be whipped.

(calling for servants) Come here! (to THIDIAS) Ah, you bird of prey! Now by all the gods and devils, my authority weakens. Not long ago, when I cried, “Ho!” kings would jump up and cry, “What’s your pleasure?” (calling to servants) Are you deaf? I’m still Antony.

Take away this lout and whip him.

(aside) It’s safer to toy with a lion cub than an old, dying lion.

By the moon and stars! Whip him! If I saw twenty of the greatest powers that pay tribute to Caesar taking such liberties with her hand—what’s her name now? This woman who once was Cleopatra, but now has become something different? Whip him, fellows, until he screws up his face like a baby and cries aloud for mercy! Take him away.

Mark Antony—

Pull him away, and once he has been whipped, bring him back. Caesar’s knave will bring him a message for us.

(to CLEOPATRA) You were damaged goods before I met you. Ha! Did I desert my bed in Rome, passing up the chance to have a legitimate family with a jewel of a woman, in order to be deceived by one who wastes her favors on servants?

My good lord—

You’ve always been a liar. But when our vices become habits—Oh, the sadness of it!—the wise gods blind us, shade our better judgment, make us love our mistakes, and laugh as we strut to our ruin.

Oh, has it come to this?

You were a cold crumb on dead Julius Caesar’s plate when I met you. No, you were one of Gneius Pompey’s leftovers—not to mention your other, more depraved affairs, which have somehow managed to avoid becoming the subject of vulgar gossip. For I’m sure that although you may know what temperance is, you’ve never experienced it firsthand.

Why are you doing this?

To let a servant be familiar with my little toy, your hand—a hand that has signed royal treaties and pledged your love to me—oh, if only I were standing on the hill of Basan, so that I could roar louder than that horned herd! For I have been savagely abused, and to state my grievances politely would be as absurd as a condemned criminal thanking the hangman for doing his job quickly.

Has he been whipped?

Soundly, my lord.

Did he cry? Did he beg my pardon?

He did ask for mercy.

(to THIDIAS) If your father is alive, let him be sorry you weren’t born a daughter. And you should be sorry to follow Caesar in his triumphal parade, since you have been whipped for following him. From now on, you should tremble and grow feverish whenever you see the white hand of a lady. Get yourself back to Caesar. Tell him how you’ve been treated. Be sure you tell him he makes me angry with him, because he seems proud and disdainful, harping on what I am now rather than what he knows. He makes me angry—and that’s easy to do right now, now that my lucky stars have abandoned me. If he doesn’t like what I’ve said or done, remind him that he holds Hipparchus, a slave I freed. He may whip, or hang, or torture him as he pleases. Then we will be even. Recommend that to him. Take your whipping scars and go.

Are you done yet?

You, my earthly moon, are now eclipsed, and that alone foretells my ruin.

(aside) I must wait for him to finish his tirade.

In order to flatter Caesar, would you flirt with the servant who laces up his pants?

Don’t you know me still?

Has your heart cooled toward me?

Ah, dear, if that is true, let heaven make poisonous hail grow from my heart, and let the first hailstone drop down my throat. As it dissolves, so shall my life. The next hailstone should hit Caesarion, until one by one all my children, and every one of my brave Egyptians, are killed by the dissolving of this pellet storm and lie unburied, covered by gnats and flies.

I am satisfied. Caesar has made camp in Alexandria. I will fight him there. Our land forces have bravely stood firm. Our tattered navy has reassembled and set sail, as formidable as the sea itself. Where have you been, my bravery? Do you hear what I say, lady? If I come back from the battlefield again to kiss those lips, I’ll be covered in blood. My sword and I will earn our place in history. We still have hope.

That’s my brave lord!

I’ll be triple the soldier I was in strength, bravery, and stamina. I’ll fight brutally. In the days when I had better luck, prisoners of war could buy their freedoms from me with simple trinkets. But now I’ll grit my teeth and kill anyone who tries to stop me. Come, let’s have one more extravagant night. Invite all my sad captains. Fill our wine bowls again. Let’s drink through midnight.

It’s my birthday. I had planned to celebrate it quietly, but since my lord is once more himself, I will be Cleopatra again.

We’ll win yet.

(to ENOBARBUS) Call all my lord’s noble captains to him.

Do so. I’ll speak to them, and then tonight I’ll get them all so drunk that the wine seeps out of their old war wounds. Come on, my Queen. There’s still life in our cause. The next time I fight, I’ll make Death love me. I’ll compete even with his fatal scythe.

Now he’ll work himself up to a fury. Rage scares away a man’s fear. In that state, a dove will attack an ostrich. I have always noticed that when my captain’s reason is diminished, his bravery increases. When courage consumes reason, it destroys its only weapon. I’ll look for some way to leave his service.