Antony and Cleopatra

No, our general’s infatuation is out of control. His eyes used to glow with pride when he reviewed his troops. Now his eyes devote themselves exclusively to a certain brown-skinned face. His heart used to burst the buckles on his breastplate in great fights, but now he’s lost all temperance and dedicates his heart to satisfying the lust of an Egyptian whore.

Look at them. Take a good look, and you’ll see that one of the three men who rule the world has turned into a whore’s jester. Look and see.

If what you feel is really love, tell me how much.

It would be a pretty stingy love if it could be counted and calculated.

I want to measure the extent of your love, to see how far it stretches.

Then you would have to go beyond heaven, beyond earth.

I have news from Rome, my good lord.

Which irritaties me. Give me a summary.

No, listen to it, Antony. Perhaps Fulvia is angry with you. Who knows, maybe the baby-faced Caesar has orders for you: “Do this, do that; conquer that kingdom, liberate this one. Do it or we’ll condemn you.”

What, my love?

Maybe? No, most likely. You can’t stay here any longer. Caesar has sent your dismissal, so pay attention, Antony. Where’s Fulvia’s summons—excuse me, I should have said Caesar’s. Or do Fulvia and Caesar both beckon you back to Rome? Call in the messengers and we’ll find out. As surely as I am the queen of Egypt, Antony, you’re blushing, which means you’re Caesar’s servant. Or that that bitch Fulvia still has the power to humiliate you. Call the messengers!

Let Rome be washed away in the Tiber and let the great empire fall. My place is here. Kingdoms are only dirt. The soil feeds animals as well as people, so how does having a kingdom separate humans from beasts? The noblest thing is to do what we’re doing, particularly when the couple is as well matched as we are. I demand that the world admit we are the perfect couple or else suffer the consequences.

(to herself) What an enormous lie! Why did he marry Fulvia if he didn’t love her? I’ll pretend to be a fool and believe him. He’ll never change.

(overhearing the last sentence) Unless he is moved and inspired by Cleopatra. Now, since we love the feeling of being in love, let’s not spoil the mood with serious discussion. We shouldn’t spend a minute without some kind of amusement. What shall we do tonight?

Meet with the ambassadors.

Shame on you, stubborn Queen! Everything you do is attractive—scolding, laughing, crying—every emotion seems admirable when you express it. I won’t see any messengers but yours. Tonight we’ll wander through the streets and observe the people. Come, my Queen. That’s what you wanted to do last night. (to the MESSENGER) Don’t talk to us.

Does Antony have so little respect for Caesar?

Sir, sometimes he’s like a different person, a person who can’t measure up to the former Antony.

I’m sad to say this confirms the stories being told about him in Rome, which I had taken to be lies. Well, I’ll hope things change for the better soon. Have a good night!

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.

Where is he?

I haven’t seen him recently.

(to ALEXAS) Find out where he is, who’s with him, and what he’s doing. Don’t tell him I sent you. If he’s sad, tell him I’m dancing. If he’s happy, say that I’ve suddenly taken sick. Hurry, and come back.

Madam, I think if you love him so much, you aren’t using the best way to get him to reciprocate.

What should I do that I’m not doing?

Always give him his way. Never contradict him.

You advise me like a fool. That’s the way to lose him.

Don’t push him too far. I wish you’d be patient. We come to hate that which controls us.

But here comes Antony.

I am sick and sullen.

I’m sorry to have to say this—

Help me away from here, dear Charmian! I shall faint. I won’t be able to go on this way much longer. Human nature isn’t built to withstand this.

Now, my dearest Queen—

Please, stand farther away from me.

What’s the matter?

I can see in your eyes there’s been some good news. What, does your wife say you can come home? I wish she’d never let you come. Don’t let her say I kept you. I have no power over you. You belong to her.

The gods know—

Oh, never has a queen been so betrayed as I have been. I knew from the first it would be this way.

Cleopatra—

How could I have ever thought that you would be faithful and true, even though your vows of love shook the heavens themselves—you, who were unfaithful to Fulvia? It was wild insanity to believe promises made by the mouth and not the heart. Such false vows are broken as soon as they are spoken.

Most sweet Queen—

No, please don’t try to excuse your departure. Just say good-bye and go. When you begged to stay, that was the time for words. You didn’t want to go then! You saw eternity in my lips and eyes, and happiness in the arch of my eyebrows. Then, all my parts seemed angelic to you. My features are still that beautiful—or else you, the greatest soldier in the world, have become the greatest liar by overpraising them.

What do you mean, lady?

I wish I were as big and strong as you. Then you’d see the courage that lives in the Queen of Egypt.

Listen to me, Queen. There is an emergency I must take care of, but my whole heart will remain here with you. My Italy is full of civil war. Sextus Pompeius is sailing toward the port of Rome. When two domestic opponents are equally matched—as we are against Pompey—factions will form on the smallest of pretexts. When a formerly hated man grows powerful, he suddenly finds himself with many supporters. Pompey, who was once condemned, now wields his father’s power, and all the citizens who have grievances against the government are joining him. Pompey’s numbers are steadily growing, and the government is ready to do something desperate. But my personal motivation—and that which should move you most to sanction my departure—is that Fulvia is dead.

I may not have outlived the foolishness of my youth, but I’m not that childishly naïve. Is it possible Fulvia is dead?

She’s dead, my Queen.

Look at this. Take your royal time and read about the quarrels she encouraged. And saving the best for last, read when and where she died.

Oh, unfaithful lover! You should be filling vials with your tears. Seeing how you take Fulvia’s death, I can see how you would react to mine.

Stop arguing and listen to my plans. Whether I go ahead with them or not is completely up to you. I swear by the sun that when I leave here, it will be as your faithful servant. I will make either peace or war, whichever you prefer.

Cut my corset laces, Charmian, so I can breathe. Hurry! No, leave it alone. I waver easily between sickness and health. Just as Antony loves.

Control yourself, my precious Queen, and concede that my love is true. It has endured many genuine trials.

That’s what Fulvia told me. I beg you, turn away and cry for her. Then say good-bye to me and tell me those tears were for my benefit. Good. Now perform a scene for me, using your excellent skills of playacting, and pretend that you’re being honorable and righteous.

You’ll make me angry. No more of this.

I know you can do better than that, but it’ll do for now.

I swear by my sword—

Swear by your shield, too! (to CHARMIAN) He’s getting better, but still it’s not his best. See, Charmian, how well this mighty Roman portrays anger?

I’ll leave you, lady.

Polite sir, let me say one thing. Sir, you and I must part company—no, that’s not it. Sir, you and I were lovers—no, that’s not it, either. You already know all that. There’s something I’d like to—oh, I’ve forgotten what I wanted to say. Just as Antony has forgotten me.

If you weren’t the queen of immaturity, I’d think you were immaturity itself.

It’s difficult to have such immaturity so close to my heart, but bear with me. Even the traits that become me most kill me when you don’t approve of them. Your honor is the reason you are leaving. So I beg you not to listen to my foolishness. May the gods be with you. May your sword be victorious and everything you do succeed.

Let’s go. Come with me. Our imminent separation so occupies our thoughts that even though you stay here, you come with me, and even though I leave here, I stay with you.

Now you’ll see, Lepidus, that I don’t disdain our noble ally because of a personal whim. Here’s the news from Alexandra: Antony fishes, drinks, and celebrates all night. He’s become as frivolous and self-indulgent as Ptolemy’s queen, Cleopatra. He rarely attends to his duties or acknowledges he has partners to be considered. Here’s a man who is the epitome of all the vices known to man.

I can’t believe there could be enough vice in the world to outshine all the good in him. His faults stand out because they must be compared to all his virtues, like stars that shine brightly against the dark night sky. They’re more likely to be the result of inherited weakness than independent choice.

You’re too forgiving. Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that it’s not improper to fool around with Ptolemy’s wife, or to trade a kingdom for a joke. That it’s fine to engage in drinking matches with inferiors, or stumble drunkenly through the streets in the middle of the day, or get into fist fights with sweaty servants. Even if we said that this behavior suits him—though only a man with a perfect character could avoid being disgraced by such antics—there’s no excuse for the extra work we’ve had to take on while he’s been off amusing himself. If he’s been spending his leisure time in lustful pursuits, then he’ll be punished with venereal diseases, and that’s his business. But he’s wasting time and resources vital to our cause and endangering both his position and ours. He should be chastised, like any boy who knows what’s right but chooses to satisfy his desires regardless.

Here’s more news.

We’ve followed your commands, lord Caesar. You shall have hourly updates regarding the situation at sea. Pompey has a strong navy. All the people who only stayed with you out of fear are gathering at the port to join him, in the opinion he’s been treated unfairly.

I should have known it. It’s been this way ever since the first government was organized. People will transfer their support to a strong figure until he becomes their actual leader. Then they will value their former leader, even though the loss of their support has made him powerless. The common crowd changes like the tide, to and fro, serving whoever is on the rise. Their power is worn away by their fickleness.

Caesar, I have news about Menecrates and Menas, notorious pirates who prowl the sea in a variety of ships. They’ve made many raids upon Italy—and the naval patrols go pale at even the thought of resisting them. The young, energetic men are joining Pompey. These pirates can capture a ship as soon as it leaves the harbor, since the simple mention of the name “Pompey” carries as much power as a fleet of troops in battle.

Antony, it’s time to stop your wild hedonism. When you were defeated at the battle of Modena—where you killed the consuls, Hirtius and Pansa—and then driven away, you had to face hunger and thirst. And even though you were brought up as a gentleman, you patiently tolerated more hardships than savages could withstand. You drank horses’ urine and water from scum-covered puddles that even animals would refuse. Though you were used to the finest foods, you didn’t turn up your nose at the bitterest berries on the thorniest bushes. You even ate bark from trees, as deer do in winter. Going over the Alps, you ate strange meat that some men would rather die than consume. And you went through all this—the comparison between then and now shames you—in such a soldier-like way that you didn’t seem to suffer at all.

It’s too bad.

Let’s hope his sense of shame will send him back to Rome quickly. It’s time that we brought our armies into the field. Let’s call a council of war immediately. Pompey is making the most of our absence.

Tomorrow, Caesar, I’ll be able to tell you what land and sea forces I can raise for this war.

I’ll be getting my own figures together in the meantime. Good-bye.

Good-bye, my lord. If you receive any more news, please share it with me.

Don’t worry, that goes without saying.

Charmian!

Madam?

Ah, give me some mandragora to drink.

Why, madam?

So I can sleep away the time while my Antony is gone.

You think about him too much.

That’s treason!

I hope not, Madam.

Eunuch! Mardian!

What can I do for your highness?

I don’t want to hear you sing. I’m not interested in anything a eunuch can do. It’s a good thing for you that, being castrated, you can better concentrate on my needs. Do you have desires?

Yes, dear madam.

Indeed?

Well, not in deed, madam, since I can’t do anything unchaste. But I do have intense passions—and I do think about what Venus did with Mars.

Oh, Charmian, where do you think he is now? Is he standing or sitting? Or is he walking? Or is he on his horse? Oh, how fortunate that horse is to have Antony on him. Do well, horse. Do you know whom it is you carry? A man who carries responsibility for a third of the world on his shoulders. He’s speaking now, or perhaps he’s whispering, “Where’s my serpent of the Nile?” For that’s his pet name for me. I’m killing myself with this provocative speculation . . . Are you thinking about me? Even though I’ve been darkened by the sun and wrinkled with age? Caesar, with your broad forehead, when you were alive, I was the perfect young consort for a king. And powerful Pompey used to stare at me as if he were frozen in time.

Queen of Egypt, greetings!

You are nothing like Mark Antony! But since you come from him, you’re saturated with his healing spirit. How does it go with my magnificent Mark Antony?

The last thing he did before sending me off, dear Queen, was to kiss—the last of many such kisses—this Indian pearl for you.

His speech is stored in my heart.

My ear must pull it out.

“Good friend,” he said, “say that the faithful Roman sends an oyster’s treasure to the great Queen of Egypt, and that he plans to enhance this meager gift by adding new kingdoms to her empire. Tell her that the entire East shall call her Queen.” Then he nodded and solemnly mounted an armored warhorse, which neighed so loudly it effectively silenced anything I might have said in reply.

Was he sad or happy?

He was like that time of year halfway between the extremes of hot and cold: he was neither sad nor happy.

Oh, what an even disposition he has! Observe, observe good Charmian! That’s exactly how he is! Just notice. He wasn’t sad, because he knows that his disposition affects others. He wasn’t merry, because to be merry would indicate that he had forgotten his love in Egypt. He was somewhere in the middle, between them . . . Oh, heavenly mixture! Whether you are sad or merry, the intensity of either suits you like no one else . . . Did you meet my messengers on your way here?

Yes, madam, twenty different messengers. Why did you send so many?

Whoever is born on a day I forget to send a message to Antony will die a beggar. Bring ink and paper, Charmian. Welcome, my good Alexas. Charmian, did I ever love Caesar as much as this?

Oh, that splendid Caesar!

May you choke on any other sentiments like that! Say, “That splendid Antony.”

The courageous Caesar!

By Isis, I’ll give you bloody teeth if you ever compare Caesar with Antony, my best man among men.

Pardon me, but I’m just repeating what you yourself have said.

That was when I was young and inexperienced and didn’t know what passion was.(to everyone) But come. (to CHARMIAN) Go get me ink and paper. He shall have different messages every day if I have to depopulate Egypt to send them.

If the great gods are just, they will help the most honest men.

You should know, noble Pompey, that although the gods may delay action, that doesn’t mean they will necessarily refuse their help.

But while we pray and wait for that help, the cause we petition for may be lost.

Sometimes we don’t know what’s best for us and ask for things that may harm us. In that case, the wise gods deny our prayers for our own good.

I’ll do well. The people are on my side, and I’m in charge of the sea. My forces are growing, and everything I know tells me it’s all coming together. Mark Antony is at dinner in Egypt and won’t be going outside to make war. Caesar loses supporters wherever he raises money. Lepidus flatters both of them, as they flatter him, but he doesn’t love them, and they don’t love him.

Caesar and Lepidus are organizing their military operation. They have a massive army.

Where did you hear this? It’s not true.

From Silvius, sir.

He’s dreaming. I know they’re in Rome together, hoping for Antony to return. Lecherous Cleopatra, may all the charms of love soften those withered lips! Join your witchcraft with your beauty, and let Antony’s lust combine with both. Keep this libertine occupied with endless debauchery. Keep his brain drunk and his appetite unsatisfied, so that sleeping and eating make him drowsy and forgetful of his duties, like the Lethe does.

What’s the news, Varrius?

This news is absolutely true: Mark Antony is expected to arrive in Rome at any hour now. In the time since he left Egypt, he could have traveled an even longer distance.

I would have listened to less important news with greater enthusiasm. Menas, I had no idea this amorous glutton would have put on his helmet for such an insignificant war. His military ability is double that of the other two. We must form a better opinion of ourselves if our uprising can pull the insatiable Antony’s attention away from that Egyptian widow.

I don’t expect Caesar and Antony will have a very friendly reunion. Antony’s dead wife raised an army against him, as did his brother, though I don’t think Antony instigated it.

Menas, I don’t understand how minor quarrels can be superseded by greater ones. If it weren’t for the fact that we oppose all three of them together, they’d be fighting each other. They certainly have enough provocation. But it’s possible the fear of us may mend their petty differences, though how that will work out, we cannot say. It will be as the gods see fit. In any case, our survival depends on putting together the strongest force possible. Let’s go, Menas.

Good Enobarbus, you would be doing a very good thing if you advised your captain to speak calmly and quietly.

I will advise him to speak as he usually does. If Caesar makes him mad, let Antony stand tall and speak as loudly as Mars, the god of war. By Jupiter, if I were Antony, I wouldn’t shave my beard today. I’d leave it long and dare Caesar to insult me by pulling on it, just so I could fight him.

This is not the time for dwelling on personal grievances.

It’s always appropriate to deal with matters as they arise.

But major issues must come before minor ones.

Not if the minor ones come up first.

You speak out of passion, but I beg you not to stir things up. Here comes the noble Antony.

And there comes Caesar.

(to VENTIDIUS) If we can come to an agreement here, we’ll move on to Parthia. Listen, Ventidius.

(to MAECENAS) I don’t know, Maecenas. Ask Agrippa.

(to CAESAR and ANTONY) Good friends, the cause that joined us was noble. Don’t let some petty quarrel tear us apart. Let’s discuss this calmly. When we argue our differences with raised voices, we do more harm than good. So I plead with you to use reasonable words as you discuss these unreasonable deeds, and don’t lose your tempers.

You’re right. If we were in front of our armies, about to fight, I would do this.

Welcome to Rome.

Thank you.

Have a seat.

After you.

No, after you.

I hear you’ve interpreted some of my actions as being improper, when they weren’t improper at all—or if they were, their impropriety didn’t concern you.

I should be ridiculed if I were offended so easily—and laughed at even more for speaking of you disrespectfully, when I had no reason to speak of you at all.

Caesar, what did my stay in Egypt have to do with you?

No more than my staying here in Rome might mean to you in Egypt. But if you conspired against my position while you were there, I might be interested in the reason for your stay in Egypt.

How do you mean, “conspired”?

You can judge for yourself what I mean. Your wife and brother led troops against me, claiming to be fighting in your name. They said they were acting for you.

You’re mistaken. My brother didn’t use my name to justify his rebellion. I talked to some reliable participants in that battle. On the contrary, his fight was with both of us. He rejected my authority as much as yours. Since you and I share a common cause, wouldn’t his actions against you be hostile to me as well? I’ve already sent the proof in my letters. If you want to pick a fight, you’ll have to find a more substantial excuse.

You defend yourself by blaming my judgment, but you’re just making up feeble excuses.

Not true, not true. You know I would never approve a war against my own cause. As for my wife, if only you had such a wife. It’s easier to rule a third of the world than a wife like that.

We should all have wives like that. Then the women could go to war with the men.

I had no control over her uprisings, Caesar, which arose from her impatience—and were shrewdly undertaken, as well. I’m sorry she caused you so much trouble. But you can’t blame me for her offenses.

I sent you a letter while you were carousing in Alexandria. You put my letters in your pocket without reading them and then mocked my messenger out of the room.

Sir, he burst into the room without invitation, just after I had come from an important banquet with three kings. I was not myself, as a result of the wine. The next day I explained all this to him, which was as good as begging his pardon. Let’s not fight over this fellow. If we must argue, let us remove him from our arguments.

You’ve broken the terms of our sworn agreement. You will never be able to say the same about me.

Easy, Caesar.

No, Lepidus, let him say what’s on his mind. Now he slanders my honor, which is sacred to me. Go on, Caesar. What part of the agreement did I break?

You agreed to send me troops and weapons when I needed them. You refused me both.

I overlooked your request, but I did not deny it. Your request came at a time when the poisonous effects of reveling caused me to be unaware of my own actions. I will apologize as much as is appropriate, but my apology will not diminish my great stature—or if I am denied that honor, I will withhold my military might. The truth is that to get me out of Egypt, Fulvia provoked riots here. And though I am only indirectly the cause of all this trouble, I ask your pardon to the extent that my honor permits me to lower myself in such a situation.

Spoken like a gentleman.

If it’s okay with you, you should not press your grievances any further, but realize that the current situation should be enough to reconcile you.

Well put, Maecenas.

Or you can pretend to settle your differences until this matter with Pompey is finished. You can argue as much as you like when there’s nothing else to do.

You are only a soldier. Be quiet.

Oh, I’d forgotten that no one’s supposed to speak the truth.

It’s not appropriate for a soldier to be part of a discussion among noblemen. Don’t speak any further.

As you please. I’ll pretend to be a conscious stone, and think without speaking.

I agree with what he says, though I don’t care for the way he says it. It’s not possible for us to be friends anymore. We’re too different, in both our dispositions and actions. But if there were something that could join us together again, I would go to the ends of the world to find it.

May I speak, Caesar.

What is it, Agrippa?

You have a beautiful half-sister, Octavia. Great Mark Antony is a widower now.

You’d better not make that suggestion, Agrippa. If Cleopatra heard you, you would be well punished for your audacity.

It’s true I’m not married, Caesar. Let me hear what Agrippa has to say.

If Antony were to take Octavia as his wife, you two would be bound in eternal friendship. As brothers, your hearts would be tied together in an unbreakable knot. She is beautiful enough for the best of men. Her virtue and grace are unparalleled. With this marriage, all the petty jealousies that now seem huge, and all the great fears that are dangerous in themselves, would disappear. People would become used to speaking the truth rather than gossip. Since she would love both of you, you two would be joined in that love. Excuse my bluntness. This is not a spur-of-the-moment suggestion. I have been considering this for some time, in my duties to both of you.

What do you say, Caesar?

I’d rather hear your reaction to this first.

If I said to Agrippa, “I agree. Make it happen,” does Agrippa have the power to make it so?

He has both my power and my influence over Octavia.

I wouldn’t dream of opposing such an obviously promising idea. Let’s shake on it. If you go through with this plan, from now on we’ll be brothers, and our love for one another will guide our actions.

Here’s my hand.

I give you a sister whom I love more than a brother ever loved any sister. She will be the bond that joins our kingdoms and our hearts. We’ll never fight again.

I’m happy to say “amen” to that!

I didn’t think I would ever fight Pompey. He’s shown me unusual deference lately, and I must repay his favors or risk a reputation for ingratitude. That done, I can turn against him.

There isn’t much time. Either we go after Pompey or he’ll come after us.

Where is he now?

Near Mt. Misena.

How large is his land army?

Large and increasing. But his navy rules the sea.

That’s what I hear. I wish we’d had this conversation sooner. Let’s get down to business—and yet, before we get ready for war, let’s take care of that business we just discussed.

With pleasure. I’ll introduce you to my sister. Follow me.

Come with us, Lepidus.

Noble Antony, even illness couldn’t keep me away.

(to ENOBARBUS) Welcome back from Egypt, sir.

You’ve become Caesar’s right hand man, Maecenas! It’s good to see you too, Agrippa.

Good Enobarbus!

We can be happy that things have been resolved so agreeably. And I see you survived your time in Egypt.

Yes, sir, it was tough. We confused the daytime by sleeping through it, and made the night merry with our drinking.

We heard that once you were served eight wild boars roasted whole for breakfast—for only twelve people! Is that true?

That was nothing. There were many even more memorable feasts.

She’s a remarkable lady, if the rumors are to be believed.

From the first time Antony saw her, sailing on her barge on the Cydnus River, he was hers.

She made quite an appearance there, or else my informant invented a very flattering description of her.

I’ll tell you. Her barge looked like a golden throne upon the waves, burning bright with the sun’s reflections. The rear deck was covered with hammered gold. The sails were dyed purple, and they were perfumed so heavily that they made the air seem dizzy with love. The oars were made of silver, and the oarsmen rowed in time to flute music. As the oars beat the water, the waves seemed to speed up as if excited by lust. Cleopatra’s appearance was indescribable. As she reclined under a canopy woven from gold thread, she was more beautiful than any artist’s idealized portrait of the goddess Venus. Pretty, Cupid-like boys stood on either side of her, smiling and cooling her with multicolored fans, which seemed to fan the flames in her cheeks even as they cooled them, undoing what they did.

How excellent for Antony!

Her ladies-in-waiting—like Nereides, or mermaids—tended to Cleopatra as she watched them, and their graceful movements added to the beauty of the scene. It seemed as if a mermaid were steering. The silken sails and ropes swelled in the wind, expertly handled by the ladies’ soft hands. People on the wharves could smell exotic perfume wafting from the barge as it passed them. All the people came out to see her, and Antony, waiting for her in the marketplace, was left alone. Even the air itself would have gone to look at Cleopatra, if that wouldn’t have caused an unnatural vacuum in the atmosphere.

Extraordinary Egyptian!

When she landed at the port, Antony sent an invitation for her to come to supper. She replied by saying that it would be better for him to be her guest instead. Our courteous Antony, who has never said “no” to any woman, after spending plenty of time being groomed by the barber, goes to the feast. For that simple meal, he paid with his heart—even though it was only his eyes that were satisfied.

Royal seductress! She lured Julius Caesar into her bed, he made love to her, and she bore his child.

I saw her once hop forty feet down the street. When she stopped she was so out of breath that she was panting. Her beauty made even that weakness seem perfect, and even in her breathlessness she seemed to pour out breath.

Now Antony has to leave her completely.

He’ll never leave her. Age won’t wither her, and her charms are so varied that she never grows boring. With other women, the more familiar you grow with them the less appealing they become. Cleopatra, on the other hand, makes you desire her the more you see her. Even her worst faults are charming, and holy priests bless her even when she acts the slut.

If beauty, wisdom, and modesty can settle Antony’s restless heart, Octavia will be the best thing that has ever happened to him.

Let’s go. Good Enobarbus, consider yourself my guest as long as you’re here.

I humbly thank you.

(to OCTAVIA) There will be times when my duties and responsibilities take me away from you.

And I will spend our time apart on my knees, praying for you.

(to CAESAR) Good night, sir. My Octavia, don’t believe everything you hear about me. I haven’t always lived a conventional life, but the future will be by the book. Good night, dear lady. (to CAESAR) Good night, sir.

Good night.

Now, sirrah, I hear you wish you were back in Egypt.

I wish I had never left Egypt and that you had never come to Egypt.

Tell me why, if you can.

It’s a feeling, but nothing I can put into words. But you had better get back to Egypt again.

Tell me who shall have the better luck, Caesar or me?

Caesar. So you’d better not stay with him, Antony. Your guardian angel is noble, courageous, significant, and unmatched when Caesar’s not around. But when you are with him, your angel is weakened and easily frightened. That’s why there must be space between you.

Don’t speak of this again.

To none but you, only to you. You will surely lose any game you play with Caesar. With his natural luck, he will beat you even against the odds. Your light dulls when he is near. I repeat: your angel is afraid to inspire you when you’re around him, but when he goes away it becomes brilliant again.

Leave now. Tell Ventidius I want to speak with him.

(to himself) I’ll send him to Parthia. Whether he’s truly gifted or just lucky, what the Fortuneteller said is true. Even the dice obey Caesar. When we compete in sports, my skill is defeated by his luck. If we pick numbers in a lottery, he wins. His roosters always beat mine at the cockfights. His quails beat mine, even against the odds, when mine have the advantage. I’ll return to Egypt. Though I’ve made this marriage to keep peace with Caesar, my pleasure remains in the East, with Cleopatra.

Come here, Ventidius. You must go to Parthia. Your authorization is ready. Come with me and I’ll get it for you.

Don’t spend any more time here. Go tell your generals to hurry their preparations.

Sir, we’ll follow as soon as Mark Antony kisses Octavia good-bye.

Good-bye then, until the time I see you dressed in your battle gear, which will suit you both very well.

According to my reckoning, we’ll get to Mt. Misena before you, Lepidus.

You’re taking a shorter route. My plans take me a roundabout way. You’ll get there two days before me.

Good luck, sir.

Farewell.

Play me some music. Music feeds the melancholy moods of us lovers.

Musicians, come in!

Never mind. Let’s play billiards. Play with me, Charmian.

My arm is sore. You’ll have a better game with Mardian.

Playing with a eunuch is the same as playing with a woman. Will you play with me, sir?

I’ll do my best, madam.

When a person tries in good faith, even if he fails he cannot be blamed. I don’t want to play now. Give me my fishing rod. We’ll go to the river. With my music playing in the background, I’ll lure fish. My hook will go through their slimy jaws and as I pull them up I’ll imagine each one is Antony. I’ll say, “Aha! I caught you!”

It was funny when you and Antony bet on who could catch the first fish. You had a diver put a salted fish on his hook. He was so excited as he hurried to pull it in!

That time? Oh, there were so many fun times. I would play some trick on him and laugh until he lost his patience. Then, that night, I would laugh with him while we made love until he was patient again. Then by nine in the morning I would have him so drunk I could dress him in my clothes while I wore the sword he used at the famous battle of Philippi.

Oh! News from Italy! Cram your good news into my ears. It’s been so long since I’ve heard from him.

Madam, madam—

Antony’s dead! If you say that, you bastard, you’ll kill your Queen. If you say he’s healthy and free, I’ll give you money and you may kiss my hand. Kings have trembled to kiss this hand.

Let me say first, madam, that he is well.

Well then, here’s more money for you. But you know, sirrah, we customarily say that the dead are well. If that’s what you mean, I’ll melt this gold and pour it down your throat that speaks these hateful words.

Good madam, let me speak.

All right, I will. But you don’t look as if you bring good news. If Antony is free and healthy, you shouldn’t wear such a sour face while bringing such good news. If he’s not well, you should arrive like a Fury with snakes for hair, not in the shape of a normal man.

Do you want to hear my news?

I have half a mind to hit you before you speak again. But if Antony is alive, healthy, friendly with Caesar, and not Caesar’s prisoner, I’ll shower you with gold and pearls.

Madam, he’s well.

That’s well spoken.

And he’s friendly with Caesar.

You are an honest man.

Caesar and he are better friends than ever.

I’m going to make you a rich man.

But yet, madam—

I don’t like the sound of “but yet.” It reverses all the good that came before it. Damn those words, “but yet!” “But yet” is like a jailer about to bring out some horrible criminal. Please, my friend, give me all the news, both good and bad, at the same time. You say he’s friendly with Caesar, healthy, and free.

I didn’t say free, madam. No, I didn’t say that. He’s bound to Octavia.

For what favor?

For the favor of sleeping in her bed.

I’m sick, Charmian.

He’s married to Octavia, madam.

May you die of the worst disease!

Good madam, be patient.

What did you say to me?

Get out, you horrible bastard, or I’ll gouge out your eyes. I’ll scalp you.

I’ll have you whipped with wire and soaked in brine like a pickle, making your pain linger.

Gracious madam, I only brought the news. I didn’t make the match.

If you say it isn’t true, I’ll give you a province and make you rich. The blows I gave you already will make up for your upsetting me. And on top of that I’ll give you whatever you ask for.

He’s married, madam.

Rogue, you’ve lived too long!

No way, then, I’ll run. What’s the matter with you, madam? I haven’t done anything to you.

Good madam, restrain yourself. The man hasn’t done anything wrong.

Even innocents cannot always escape disaster. May Egypt drown in the Nile and all good creatures turn into poisonous snakes. Call that servant back. Even though I’m mad, I won’t bite him. Call him!

He’s afraid to come in.

I won’t hurt him. My hands are tainted if they hit an inferior, especially since I myself am the cause of my own distress.

Come here, sir. It may be honest, but it’s never wise to bring bad news. You can give good news in many ways, but let bad news interpret itself as you tell it.

I’ve only done my duty.

Is he married? I can’t hate you any more than I already do if you repeat that he is.

He’s married, madam.

May the gods destroy you! Do you maintain the same story?

Do you want me to lie, madam?

Oh, I wish you had lied, even if it meant half my kingdom would be submerged and filled with snakes. Go, get out! Even if you were as handsome as Narcissus, your face would be ugly to me. Is he really married?

I beg your highness’ pardon.

Is he really married?

Please don’t be offended that I don’t want to offend you any more. It’s not fair to punish me for something you make me do. He’s married to Octavia.

It’s too bad that Antony’s fault should make you look like a jerk. You didn’t have anything to do with it. Go away. The merchandise you bring from Rome is too expensive for me. Let it stay in your inventory until it bankrupts you.

Be patient, your highness.

When I have praised Antony, I’ve disparaged Caesar.

Many times, madam.

I’m being repaid for that now. Help me out of here. I feel faint. Oh, Iras, Charmian! It doesn’t matter. Good Alexas, go ask that fellow to describe Octavia. How old is she? What kind of disposition does she have? Don’t let him leave out the color of her hair. Bring me his answers quickly.

Let Antony be purged from my life forever—but no, don’t let him, Charmian. Even though half of him is like a Gorgon, the other half is like Mars. (to MARDIAN) Ask Alexas to also ask him how tall she is. Feel sorry for me, Charmian, but don’t talk to me. Help me get to my bedroom.

I have your hostages and you have mine. Let’s talk before we fight.

It’s proper that we speak first, which is why we sent our proposals ahead of us for your consideration. If you’ve had time to think over these points, let us know whether they will relieve your frustration. If yes, then a lot of brave young men can return to Sicily who would otherwise die here.

I address the three of you, the sole rulers of this world and the main arbiters of the gods’ will. I don’t know why my father’s death shouldn’t be avenged, since he has a son and friends to do it. You avenged Julius Caesar’s death at Philippi, where his ghost haunted his killer, Brutus. Why did Cassius conspire against Caesar? And why did the honorable, well-intentioned Brutus and the others, men devoted to the ideal of freedom, assassinate Caesar? They didn’t want one man to be king in Rome. And that’s why I’ve built my navy, which is so huge that the weight of the ships makes the sea foam with anger. I will punish Rome for her ingratitude toward my noble father.

Take your time.

Pompey, you cannot frighten us with your navy. We’ll meet you at sea. You know that on land our army is far greater than yours.

Yes, on land you do outnumber me. Even more since you annexed my father’s house and lands. But since, like the cuckoo, you don’t build anything for yourself, live in those lands as long as you can.

To get back to the matter at hand, what do you think of our proposal?

That’s the point.

Don’t let us talk you into anything, but consider carefully the value of our offers.

And consider the possible consequences of fighting against us, in the hopes of gaining a greater fortune.

You have offered me the lands of Sicily and Sardinia. In return, I must clear the sea of pirates and send tributes of wheat to Rome. If I agree to this, we may leave unharmed, with our shields undented.

That’s our offer.

You should know that when I came here I was prepared to accept your offer. But Mark Antony made me somewhat angry. (to ANTONY) Though it would be nobler to for me not to speak of this good act myself, you should know that when Caesar and your brother were fighting, your mother came to Sicily for refuge. I welcomed her gladly.

(to POMPEY) I heard what you did for her, Pompey, and want to give you the many thanks I owe you.

Let me shake your hand.

I didn’t think I would see you here.

The East is very seductive. I have you to thank for my trip here; I wouldn’t have left Egypt otherwise, and I have benefited from it.

(to POMPEY) You’ve changed since the last time I saw you.

Well, I cannot tell how my difficult life has weathered my face, but I will never let those difficulties subdue my courage.

It’s good we had this meeting.

I hope it works out for the best, Lepidus. So we are in agreement. Please have the contract written up so we can all sign it.

That’s the next thing on the agenda.

We’ll have celebration feasts for each other before we go our separate ways. Let’s draw lots to see who will host the first one.

I’ll give the first one, Pompey.

No, Antony. Pick one of these lots. Whether your banquet is first or last, your Egyptian cooking will make it the best. I heard that Julius Caesar got fat from all the feasting there.

You’ve heard a lot.

I mean well, sir.

I’m sure you do.

I’ve heard a lot more. I heard that Apollodorus carried—

(interrupting POMPEY) That’s enough of that. Yes, it’s true.

What did he carry, please?

A certain queen to Caesar, rolled up in a mattress.

Now I know who you are. How are you, soldier?

I’m well, and probably will be for a while, as I hear that four feasts are being prepared.

Let me shake your hand. I’ve never been your enemy. I’ve seen you fight and envied your skill.

Sir, I wouldn’t say I was your friend, but I’ve praised you when you deserved ten times more praise than I gave.

Enjoy your frankness; it suits you. I invite you all aboard my ship. After you, my lords?

Show us the way, sir.

Come with me.

(to himself) Your father would never have agreed to this treaty, Pompey. (to ENOBARBUS) You and I have met, sir.

I think it was at sea.

That it was, sir.

You’ve done well at sea.

And you’ve done well on land.

I’ll flatter anyone who flatters me—though what I’ve accomplished on land cannot be denied.

Neither can my accomplishments at sea.

Yes, for your own safety, you should deny one thing: you have been a great thief at sea.

As you were on land.

That’s the one part of my service on land I do deny. But let’s shake hands, Menas.

If our eyes were policemen, they might capture two thieves at once while we’re embracing.

Men’s faces are truthful, whatever their hands do.

But no beautiful woman has an honest face.

That’s no lie. They steal hearts.

We came here to fight against you.

For my part, I’m sorry this battle turned into a drinking match. Today Pompey laughs away his fortune.

If that’s true, he won’t get it back by crying.

That’s the truth, sir. We didn’t expect Mark Antony to be here. Is he married to Cleopatra?

Caesar’s sister is named Octavia.

That’s true, sir. She was previously Caius Marcellus’ wife.

But she is now Mark Antony’s wife.

Excuse me, sir?

It’s true.

Then Caesar and he will always be united.

If I were to make a prediction regarding this union, I wouldn’t say that.

I think the marriage was made more for political reasons than for love.

I think so too. But you’ll see that the very thing that joins them will be the thing that separates them. Octavia has a pious, chaste, meek disposition.

Doesn’t everyone want a wife like that?

Not someone who doesn’t share that disposition, meaning Mark Antony. He’ll go back to his Egyptian dish. Then Octavia’s complaints will rouse Caesar, and as I said before, the thing that brought them together will part them. Antony will go where his passion is. He only married out of political necessity.

Then that’s the way it may turn out. Come on, sir, will you come aboard? I want to drink your health.

I’ll join you, sir. We did a lot of drinking in Egypt.

Let’s go.

Here’s where they’ll end up, on the floor. Some of them are leaning already. It won’t take much for them to fall over.

Lepidus is red in the face.

They made him drink the leftover wine usually given to the poor.

Their various personalities grate on one another. Lepidus cries, “No more arguing!” and then when they agree he resigns himself to drink.

Which goes on to impede his judgment.

That’s what happens when you partner with great men but lack their power. I’d rather carry a reed that obviously can’t protect me than a sword I cannot lift.

To be so unimportant in the company of important men is like having a face without any eyes.

This is how they do it, sir: they measure the depth of the Nile, according to certain marks made on the walls of the Pyramid. They know by those measurements if there will be famine or plenty. The higher the Nile flows, the better the harvest. As the river ebbs, the farmer scatters his seeds on the remaining silt. The harvest comes shortly after that.

Do you have unusual snakes there?

Yes, Lepidus.

The Egyptian snake is born when the sun shines on the Nile mud, just like the crocodile.

Yes, Lepidus.

Let’s have a seat and some wine. A toast to Lepidus!

I don’t feel so well, but I won’t stop.

Not until you pass out. I’m afraid you’ll keep going until then.

No, I certainly won’t stop. I’ve heard that the pyramids build by the Ptolemies are splendid. Without doubt I’ve heard that.

(aside to POMPEY) Pompey, could I have a word with you?

(aside to MENAS) Whisper it in my ear. What is it?

(whispers in POMPEY’s ear) Please, captain, leave the feast and let me speak with you privately.

(aside to MENAS) Leave me alone awhile. Where’s the wine for Lepidus?

What does a crocodile look like?

Sir, it’s shaped like itself and is as wide as it has width. It is only as high as it is and moves with its own legs. It lives on what nourishes it, and when the four elements leave it, its soul moves into another body.

What color is it?

Its own color.

It’s a strange snake.

It is that. And its tears are wet.

(aside to ANTONY) Will that description satisfy him?

(aside to CAESAR) That last toast Pompey gave him will take care of him, unless he’s a raging glutton.

(aside to MENAS) Go to hell, sir. Are you still here? Go away! Do what I tell you. Where’s the wine I ordered?

(aside to POMPEY) If any service I’ve done you deserves a favor, get up from your stool and speak with me.

(aside to MENAS) I think you’re crazy!

What is it?

I’ve always had great respect for your destiny.

You’ve served me faithfully. What else can I say? (to the others) Be happy, lords!

Stay away from the quicksand of drink, Lepidus: you’re sinking.

(to POMPEY) Would you like to be king of the entire world?

What are you saying?

Would you like to be king of the entire world? Now I’ve said it twice.

How could that happen?

Just consider it. Though I seem poor, I am the man who will give you the world.

Are you drunk?

No, Pompey, I haven’t had anything to drink. You can be the most powerful man on earth if you dare use your power. Both land and sea are yours if you will take them.

Tell me how.

The three who share the known world are aboard your boat. Let me cut the anchor cable. When we are away from land, cut their throats. Everything that belongs to them is yours.

Oh, you should have done it without telling me! For me to do such a thing would be dishonorable. For you to do it would be good service. You should know that to me, profit isn’t more important than honor, but the other way around. Regret that your mouth betrayed your actions. If you had acted without my knowledge, I would have approved your action later. But now I must condemn it. Give it up and go drink.

(to himself) For this, I’ll never be faithful to your declining fortunes again. A person who wants something but won’t take it when it materializes won’t get the opportunity again.

This toast is for Lepidus!

(to a servant) Help Lepidus ashore . . . I’ll accept it for him, Pompey.

Here’s to you, Menas.

I accept with thanks, Enobarbus.

Fill the cups until they run over.

There goes a strong fellow, Menas.

Why do you say that?

He carries a third of the world. Can’t you see that?

Then a third of the world is drunk. I wish it were all drunk. Then everything would go more smoothly.

Drink up. Liven up the party.

All right, then.

This hasn’t reached the level of an Egyptian feast yet.

It’s getting there. Clink your cups together in a toast! Here’s to Caesar.

I could do without another toast. It’s unnatural. I keep washing my brain with alcohol, and it keeps getting fouler and more muddled.

Live in the moment.

I’d prefer to seize the day. But I would rather abstain from everything for four days than drink so much in one.

(to ANTONY) Ha! Shall we dance Egyptian bacchanals, my noble emperor, and celebrate our wine?

Let’s have one, good soldier.

Come, let’s join our hands until the overpowering wine makes us soft and forgetful.

Everyone join hands. Attack our ears with loud music, and I’ll position you for the dance. Then the boy will sing, and every man will sing the chorus at the top of his voice.

(singing) Come, you king of the vine, plump Bacchus, with your pink eyes. Our troubles are drowned in your vats. We’ll crown ourselves with wreathes of grapes.

(singing) Give us cups until the world spins! Give us cups until the world spins!

How can you top that? Good night, Pompey. (to ANTONY) Dear brother-in-law, let’s leave together. This frivolity isn’t appropriate to the serious purpose that brought us here. Noble lords, let’s say good night. We’ve all gotten red in the face. Even the strong Enobarbus isn’t immune to the effects of wine, and I’m tongue-tied myself. This wild party has almost turned us all into clowns. What more need I say? Good night. Good Antony, shake my hand.

We’ll have a rematch at your feast on shore.

Yes, we will. Let’s shake on it.

Oh, Antony, even if you’ve taken my father’s house, what is that to me? We’re friends! Come, this way to the rowboat.

Be careful not to fall in.

Menas, I’m not going back on shore.

No, come to my cabin. We’ll have the musicians play drums, trumpets, flutes. What do you say? We’ll make Neptune hear us bid a loud good night to these great men. Play and be damned. Play loud!

Hooray, I say. There’s my hat!

Hooray! Come on, noble captain.

Now I’ve paid you back, Parthia, and gotten revenge for Marcus Crassus’ death. Carry King Orodes’ son at the front of our army, so all the Parthians will know—Orodes, Pacorus pays for Marcus Crassus!

Noble Ventidius, while your sword is still warm with the blood of slain Parthians, why not finish the job? The Parthians retreat. Go after them. Chase them down if you have to track them through Media, Mesopotamia, or any other places they may go to hide. Then our great general, Antony, will commend you.

Oh, Silius, Silius, I’ve done enough. A subordinate may exceed his authority. You must understand, Silius, that it’s better to leave something undone than achieve too much fame in your superior’s absence. Caesar and Antony have always achieved more by delegating authority to their officers than by leading their troops in person. Sossius, an officer that held the same position in Syria as I do here, achieved great distinction very quickly but lost Antony’s support as a result. A man who achieves more in war than his captain does becomes his captain’s rival. Ambition is a good quality in a soldier, but it proves detrimental rather than beneficial when used to surpass his superiors. I could do more to help Antony, but to do so would insult him. And by insulting him, I would lose credit for the good I have done him already.

A soldier is just a tool, like his sword, unless he has your qualities, Ventidius. Are you going to write Antony about this?

I’ll modestly tell him what I have done in his name—that’s the magical wording these days. I’ll write how, under his flag and with his well-paid troops, we have beaten the formerly unvanquished Parthia.

Where’s Antony now?

He plans to go to Athens. We must arrive there before him, as quickly as our baggage train will allow us. (to the soldiers) Get a move on!

Did the brothers-in-law leave?

They finished their business with Pompey, and Pompey has left. Now the three triumvirs are putting their official seals on the treaty. Octavia weeps at the thought of leaving Rome. Caesar is in a sober mood. And Menas reports that Lepidus has been hungover since Pompey’s party.

That Lepidus is an elegant man.

He’s a stylish man. And how he loves Caesar!

Yes, but how he adores Mark Antony!

Caesar? He’s a god of a man.

Then what’s Antony? A god of a god?

Are you talking about Caesar? He’s without equal!

Oh, Antony! Oh, you phoenix!

If you want to praise Caesar, just say his name—that’s all the praise that’s necessary.

He certainly flattered them both with extravagant compliments.

He loves Caesar best, but he also loves Antony. Oh! No one can describe or fathom Lepidus’ love for Antony! Hearts cannot think it, tongues cannot speak it, meas-urements cannot calculate it, scribes cannot write it, bards cannot sing it, and poets cannot make verses about it. But when it comes to Caesar, Lepidus’ love approaches the awestruck wonder of a worshipper.

He loves them both.

They are his dung, and he their beetle.

So, there’s the signal to ride. Good-bye, noble Agrippa.

Good luck, worthy soldier, and good-bye.

You can’t go any further with us, sir.

You take an important part of myself with you. Treat it well . . . . Sister, be the kind of wife I hope you will be, and that this great contract rests upon your being . . . Gracious Antony, don’t let my sister, this epitome of virtue that connects us, become the reason we separate. If you and I don’t value her equally, it would be better for us to work out our differences without her.

Don’t insult me with your distrust.

I mean what I say.

You won’t find any cause for anxiety, even if you look for one. So, may the gods protect you and change the hearts of the Romans so that they turn and give you their support. We’ll leave you here.

Good-bye, my dearest sister, good-bye. I hope you have good weather to set your mind at ease. Farewell.

My noble brother!

Her eyes are like April: full of showers. But they’ll flower into love.(to OCTAVIA) Be cheerful.

(to CAESAR) Take care of my former husband’s property, and—

What is it, Octavia?

I’ll tell you privately.

She won’t say what she’s feeling, and she can’t understand her feelings. She’s balanced uneasily, like a feather on the swell of a great wave—she won’t move, even though her situation is about to change.

(aside to AGRIPPA) Do you think Caesar will cry?

(aside to ENOBARBUS) He does look like it.

(aside to AGRIPPA) If he were a horse, watery eyes would lower his value. Men aren’t supposed to cry, either.

(aside to ENOBARBUS) Why, Enobarbus, when Antony saw that Julius Caesar was dead, he cried terribly. And he wept when he found that Brutus had been killed at Philippi.

(aside to AGRIPPA) He certainly did have rheumy eyes that year. Whenever he had to kill, he cried—it’s true!—until I cried too.

(returning with OCTAVIA) Don’t worry, sweet Octavia, I’ll always write to you, and I’ll think about you all the time.

Come here, sir. I’ll wrestle with you out of love. See, now I have you.

And thus I let you go and give you to the gods.

Good-bye. Be happy.

(to ANTONY) May every star light your path.

Farewell, farewell.

Farewell.

Where is that messenger?

He’s afraid to come in.

Oh, come on.—Come here, sir.

Gracious Queen, even Herod of Judea wouldn’t dare look at you unless you were in a good mood.

I’ll have Herod’s head chopped off! But now that Antony’s gone, who will do it for me? (to MESSENGER) Come closer.

Most formidable Queen!

Did you see Octavia?

Yes, revered Queen.

Where?

In Rome, Madam. I saw her face as she walked with her brother and Mark Antony.

Is she as tall as I am?

She is not, madam.

Did you hear her speak? Is her voice pitched high or low?

Madam, I heard her speak. She has a low-pitched voice.

That’s not in her favor. He can’t like her very long.

Like her? Oh, Isis, that’s impossible.

You’re right, Charmian. She’s both dull-spoken and dwarfishly little.—Did she carry herself with majesty? Compare her to any memory you might have of royalty.

She creeps along. Moving or standing still, her bearing is about the same. She has a body, not a life. She’s more like a statue than a living, breathing human being.

Is this true?

If not, then I have no powers of observation.

There aren’t three people in all of Egypt who could do better.

He’s very observant. I can tell. She doesn’t have anything going for her so far. This messenger is wise.

Very wise.

(to MESSENGER) How old do you think she is?

She was a widow previously, madam.

A widow? Do you hear that, Charmian?

And I think she’s at least thirty.

Do you remember her face? Was it long or round?

Round enough to be unattractive.

Usually that means a person is foolish. What color is her hair?

Brown, madam, and she wouldn’t want her forehead to be any lower.

Here’s gold for you. You mustn’t hold my earlier outburst against me. I’ll hire you again to go back to Rome. I find that you’re very good at this kind of work. Go, prepare to travel. My letters are ready to go.

He’s an admirable man.

He certainly is. I’m very sorry I was so hard on him. Why, from what he says, Octavia isn’t worth getting upset over.

Not a bit, madam.

This man’s been around royalty. He should recognize it when he sees it.

Been around royalty! Isis forbid it were otherwise, since he’s been in your service so long.

I want to ask him one more thing, Charmian. But it’s not important. Bring him to my writing room. Everything may still be all right.

I assure you it is, madam.

No, no, Octavia, it’s not only that. That would be excusable—that and a thousand other offenses like it. But Caesar has gone and waged a new war against Pompey. He made his will and read it in a public assembly. He hardly refers to me at all, though official decisions are supposed to be made jointly. When he can’t avoid mentioning my services to the state, he minimizes them as much as possible. When situations arise when it would be natural to emphasize my due credit, he either ignores them or only pays me lip service.

Oh, dear husband, don’t believe everything you hear—or if you must believe it, don’t let it all make you angry. No lady could be more miserable than I if you two disagree. I’ll be left in the middle, praying for both sides. The good gods will laugh at me when on the one hand I pray for my husband and on the other for my brother. “Let my husband win!” “Let my brother win!” One prayer cancels out the other. There’s no middle ground between these two extremes.

Gentle Octavia, support the one that supports you. If I’m defeated, I lose my reputation. If I lose my reputation, I lose myself. It would be better for you to have no husband than a husband who lacks honor. However, as you requested, you may go and try to negotiate with your brother. In the meantime, I’ll raise an army that will surpass his. Go as soon as possible, so your prayers may be answered the sooner.

Thank you, my lord. May the god of power make me, the weakest of the weak, your mediator. A war between you two would split the very world, and the bodies of your slaughtered soldiers would have to fill the chasm between.

When you find out who started this disagreement, turn your anger upon them. Our faults can’t be so alike that you would judge us similarly. Order supplies for your trip and choose your traveling companions. Spend as much as you like.

How goes it, friend Eros?

Some startling news has just arrived, sir.

What news, man?

Caesar and Lepidus declared war against Pompey.

That’s old news. Who’s winning?

Caesar used Lepidus in the war, but as soon as it was over, Lepidus was expelled from the triumvirate. He wasn’t allowed any of the glory of the victory, and he was accused of treasonous correspondence with Pompey. On the basis of Caesar’s accusation alone, Lepidus was imprisoned. So the weak third of the triumvirate is imprisoned until death frees him.

So now the world will only be devoured by two sets of jaws—Caesar’s and Antony’s. And even if you throw everything you possess to the two of them, they’ll battle each other to the death to have it all. Where’s Antony?

He’s walking in the garden, like this (imitating anger). And he kicks the leaves on the path, exclaiming, “Lepidus, you fool!” Then he threatens to kill the officer who murdered Pompey.

Antony’s grand navy is prepared.

To sail to Italy and Caesar. Another thing, Domitius: Antony wants to see you now. I should have waited to tell you my news.

It won’t be that important. But never mind. Take me to Antony.

Come with me, sir.

In Alexandria he condemned Rome, and that’s not all. This is what happened: he and Cleopatra sat on chairs of gold on a silver-covered stage in the marketplace. Caesarion—whom they call my father’s son—and all their illegitimate children sat at their feet. Antony confirmed her possession of Egypt and made her absolute Queen of lower Syria, Cyprus, and Lydia.

He did this in public?

In the public arena, where they perform sporting events. He proclaimed his sons to be kings of kings. He gave Media, Parthia, and Armenia to Alexander. He gave Syria, Cilicia, and Phoenicia to Ptolemy. Cleopatra was dressed like the goddess Isis. They say she often attended her public functions like that.

Let’s send this news to Rome.

The Roman people are fed up with his arrogance already. They’ll abandon him completely when they hear this.

The people have heard it already, and they’ve been told of his accusations.

Who does he accuse?

He accuses me of withholding his share of Sextus Pompeius’ possessions, which we seized in Sicily. Then he says I didn’t return some ships he loaned me. Finally, he criticizes the deposing of Lepidus, and then goes on to accuse me of keeping all of Lepidus’ property for myself.

Sir, these accusations should be answered.

It has been done already, and the messenger is on his way. I answered that Lepidus had become too brutal and abused his position. For this he deserved to be deposed. As for what I seized in the wars, I granted that Antony should have a share. But I also demanded my share of his acquisitions in Armenia and the other conquered kingdoms.

He’ll never agree to that.

Then we won’t agree to his demands.

Greetings, Caesar, my lord! Greetings, dearest Caesar!

Oh, to think you’ve been rejected!

You’ve never thought of me like that, and you have no reason to.

Then why did you travel so quietly? You didn’t arrive like Caesar’s sister. Antony’s wife should have an army to escort her, with neighing horses to announce her arrival long before she appears. The trees along the road should have been filled with eager spectators. Crowds should have been faint with excitement waiting to see you. The dust from your attending troops should have risen to heaven. But you’ve arrived like a common maid bringing goods to a Roman market. You’ve kept me from displaying my love—and when love is not shown, it’s often not felt. I would have met you by sea and again by land. At each stage of your trip there would have been a more spectacular greeting.

My good lord, I wasn’t forced to travel like this. It was my choice. Mark Antony heard that you were preparing to wage war on him. When he gave me this news, I begged him to let me visit you.

Which he quickly allowed, given that you’re an obstacle to his lust.

Don’t say that, my lord.

I’ve kept track of him, and reports of his affairs arrive on every ship. Where do you think he is now?

He’s in Athens, my lord.

No, he’s not. You’ve been deceived. Cleopatra summoned him. He’s given his empire to a whore, and now they’re gathering kings to wage a war. He’s recruited Bocchus, the King of Libya; Archelaus of Cappadocia; Philadelphos, King of Paphlagonia; the Thracian king, Adallas; King Manchus of Arabia; the King of Pont; Herod, of Judea; Mithridates, King of Comagen; Polemon and Amyntas, the kings of Mede and Lycaonia, and many more.

Oh, I’m heartbroken. I’m divided between two friends who are determined to kill each other.

You’re welcome here. I didn’t write about breaking the alliance with Antony until I saw you were being misled and realized how dangerous it would be to keep postponing preparations. Cheer yourself. Don’t be troubled by the present situation, the obligations of which must ruin your happiness. Don’t worry about things that have already been decided by fate. Welcome home to Rome. Nothing is more precious to me than you. You have been unbelievably abused, and now the gods make us the dispensers of justice. Be comforted. You will always be welcome to me.

Welcome, lady.

Welcome, dear madam. Every heart in Rome loves and pities you. Only the adulterous and abominable Antony abandons you, giving his power to a whore who turns that power against us.

(to CAESAR) Is that true, sir?

It’s undeniable. You are welcome here, sister. I beg you to continue to be patient. My dearest sister!

I’ll be straight with you. Do not doubt it.

But why, why, why?

You opposed my taking part in the war. You said it wasn’t proper.

Well, is it? Is it?

Isn’t this war against me? Why shouldn’t I be there in person?

Well, I could answer that if we went to war on male and female horses alike—the male horses would be totally distracted and useless. The mares would be ridden by their riders and the male horses.

What do you mean?

Antony will necessarily be distracted by your presence. You will affect his heart and his head. You’ll take up time he can’t afford to lose. He’s already criticized for frivolous behavior. In Rome they say that your eunuch Photinus and your maids run the war.

Let Rome fall! May the tongues of our critics rot! I have responsibilities in this war, and as the absolute ruler of my kingdom I will carry out my duties as if I were a man. Don’t argue against it. I won’t stay behind.

No, I’ve had my say. Here comes the Emperor.

Isn’t it strange, Canidius, that he could cross the Ionian Sea so quickly from Tarentum and Brundusium and take Toryne?—Have you heard about this, sweet?

No one admires speed more than the lazy.

That’s a good reprimand, suitable for reminding even the best of men to guard against negligence. Canidius, we’ll fight him at sea.

Of course we’ll fight him by sea. What else?

Why do you want to do that, my lord?

Because he’s daring us to do it.

So you’ve dared him to single combat.

Yes, and you dared Caesar to fight the battle at Pharsalia, where he fought against Pompey. But Caesar ignores offers that don’t give him an advantage, and so should you.

Your ships are not well crewed. Your sailors are mule drivers, harvesters—men who were drafted quickly and have little training. Caesar’s fleet is manned by mariners who already have experience battling Pompey. His ships are maneuverable. Yours are slow and awkward. Refusing to fight him at sea won’t disgrace you. You’ve prepared for a land war.

I will fight by sea. By sea.

Most worthy sir, if you do that you throw away all the advantages you have on land. You will have to divide your army, which mostly consists of battle-hardened foot soldiers. You will be unable to use your legendary battle knowledge. You’ll be abandoning proven methods that promise victory, and instead you’ll put yourself at the mercy of haphazard chance.

I’ll fight at sea.

I have sixty ships. Caesar doesn’t have any that are better.

We’ll burn our surplus ships and fully man the rest. We’ll sail from Actium and beat Caesar as he approaches. Even if we fail at that, we can still fight him on land.

What’s your business?

The news is true, my lord. Caesar has been seen. He has captured Toryne.

Can Caesar be there in person? No, that’s impossible. It’s strange enough that his army should be there. Canidius, take our nineteen legions and twelve thousand horse soldiers. You must hold them on land. We’ll go to our ship. Come away, Cleopatra.

What’s the news, brave soldier?

Oh, don’t fight by sea, noble Emperor! Don’t trust rotten planks. Don’t you trust my sword and these wounds? Let the Egyptians and Phoenicians go swimming. We are used to winning by standing on the earth and fighting toe to toe.

Well, well, let’s go.

By Hercules, I think I’m right.

Soldier, you are. But Antony’s decisions aren’t coming from his extensive experience. Our leader is being led. We are following a woman.

On land you keep the legions and cavalry together, don’t you?

Marcus Octavius, Marcus Justeius, Publicola, and Caelius will go by sea, but we’ll keep the bulk on land. Caesar’s speed defies belief.

While he was still in Rome, he deployed his forces in so many different disguises that all our spies were fooled.

Who’s his lieutenant, do you know?

A man named Taurus, they say.

I know the man well.

The Emperor is calling for Canidius.

The present time is like a woman in labor, each minute giving birth to some piece of news.

Taurus!

My lord?

Don’t attack by land. Keep the army together. Don’t provoke them to battle until we have finished at sea. Don’t exceed your orders as written here.

Our fate depends on this chance.

Assemble our squadrons on the other side of the hill, in sight of Caesar’s navy. From there we’ll be able to see how many ships he has and plan accordingly.

We’re ruined, ruined, ruined! I can’t watch any more. The Egyptian flagship, the Antoniad, followed by all sixty Egyptian ships, has turned and fled. It destroyed my eyes to look upon it.

Gods and goddesses—the whole congregation of them!

What’s wrong with you?

We have lost a major portion of the world through utter foolishness. We have kissed away entire kingdoms and provinces.

How goes the battle?

Our side shows all the signs of certain defeat, which appear like the symptomatic sores of the plague. Right in the middle of the fight, just when the battle could have gone either way—actually we had a slight advantage—that immoral Egyptian nag—May she die of leprosy!—suddenly became frightened, and turned her ships around and fled.

I saw that. The sight made me so sick I couldn’t watch any more.

Once she had turned around, the noble Antony, ruined by love, hoisted his own sails and followed her like a lovesick duck. He left the battle at the most crucial point. I never saw such a shameful act. He betrayed his own experience, manhood, and honor.

Terrible. Terrible.

The battle on the sea is almost lost. If our general had been his old self, we would have won. Oh, with his sordid desertion, he sets the example for our own.

Are you considering desertion, as well? Then everything must really be finished.

They fled toward Peloponnesus.

It’s easy to get there. I’ll go there and ascertain their next move.

I’ll yield my legions and cavalry to Caesar. In this, I follow the examples of the six kings who have already surrendered.

I’ll still follow Antony, even though the odds are against him and good sense tells me I should go the other way.

Listen. The earth tells me to stop walking upon it, as it’s ashamed to carry me. Friends, come here. I’m completely lost. I have a ship full of treasure. Take that. Divide it. Escape and make peace with Caesar.

Flee? Not us.

I have already fled from my true self. I’ve told cowards to turn their backs on me and run. Friends, go. I’ve decided on a plan that doesn’t require your assistance. Leave. My treasure’s in the harbor; take it. Oh, I followed something I’m ashamed to look at now! Even my hair revolts. The white hairs blame the brown hairs for being irresponsible, and the brown ones blame the white ones for being spineless and foolish. Friends, go. I’ll give you letters of introduction to some friends of mine who will help you. Please, don’t be sad, and don’t tell me how reluctant you are. Take your cues from my own despair. Abandon the person that has abandoned himself. Go to the harbor immediately! I’ll give you the title to that ship and its treasure. Just give me a moment, please—only a moment. I’ve relinquished my authority, so please—I’ll see you all before long.

No, gentle madam, go. Comfort him.

Yes, do, dearest Queen.

Of course you must comfort him! What else?

Let me sit down. Oh, Juno!

(seeing CLEOPATRA) No, no, no, no, no.

Do you see her, sir?

Oh, damn, damn, damn!

Madam!

Madam, oh, good Empress!

Sir . . . sir . . .

(to himself) Yes, my lord, that’s true. At Philippi, Caesar kept his sword in its sheath, like a dancer, while I commanded the armies that conquered Cassius and Brutus. Caesar fought only through lieutenants. He had no experience with the brave contests of war. But now . . . never mind.

Ah, give us some privacy.

The Queen is here, my lord.

Go to him, madam, speak to him. He’s not himself because he feels so ashamed.

Well, then, help me.

Most noble sir, stand up. The Queen is coming. She’s weak and will die unless you comfort her.

I’ve destroyed my reputation, a most shameful error.

Sir, here’s the Queen.

Oh, where have you led me, Egypt? See how I hide my shame from you by turning around? I look behind me to see my past, destroyed by dishonor.

Oh, my lord, my lord, forgive my panic! I didn’t think you would follow me.

Queen, you knew very well that my heart was tied to your ship and that you would pull me along with you. You knew that my spirit was completely under your control and that I would ignore the gods’ orders in favor of yours.

Oh, forgive me!

Now I will have to send my humble proposal of peace to that young man. I’ve done as I pleased with half the world, making and losing fortunes, but now I negotiate from a position of weakness. You knew how far you had conquered my spirit. You knew that my sword, weakened by my love for you, would obey that love no matter what.

Forgive me! Forgive me!

Don’t shed even one tear. One of your tears is worth everything that was won and lost. Give me a kiss.

This repays me. I sent our children’s schoolmaster to Caesar with our offer. Has he returned? Love, I am full of heaviness. (calling) Servants, bring some wine and food! We have the most contempt for fortune when it goes against us.

Let the envoy from Antony come in. Do you know him?

It’s Antony’s schoolmaster. By sending such an insignificant emissary, Antony shows us how low he has sunk. Not so long ago, he had so many royal supporters that he sent along extra kings as messengers.

Come forward and speak.

Humble as I am, I represent Antony. Until recently, I was as unimportant to his affairs as the morning dew is to the wide ocean.

So be it. Say what you’re here for.

He acknowledges that you are the master of his fate, and he requests to be allowed to live in Egypt. If that is not granted, he reduces his requests and asks only that he be allowed to live as a private man in Athens. That’s all he asks for himself. Cleopatra recognizes your greatness and accepts your authority. She only asks that the crown of Egypt pass to her heirs, who are now at your mercy.

As for Antony, I’m not interested in his requests. I’ll give the Queen a hearing and grant her requests if she either throws her dishonored friend out of Egypt or kills him. Then I’ll listen to her. Give my answer to them both.

May good luck follow you!

Take him safely through the lines.

(to THIDIAS) Now it’s time to test your eloquence. On your way. Separate Cleopatra from Antony. In my name, promise to fulfill her petitions. You can make up additional offers, if necessary. Women aren’t strong, even at their best. Hardship will make even a vestal abandon her vows. Use your ingenuity, Thidias. You can make your own conditions, which I will authorize as law.

I go, Caesar.

Observe how Antony takes his defeat and how his attitude influences his actions.

I will, Caesar.

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?