Commentaries on
Shakespeare’s Tragedies
Shakespeare, William. The Tragedy of Antony and Cleopatra. (The Norton Shakespeare: Tragedies, 3rd ed. 982-1060.)
Of Interest: RSC Resources | ISE Resources | S-O Sources | 1623 Folio 850-78 (Folger) | Plutarch’s Life of Marcus Antonius (North) | Appian’s The Roman Civil Wars V.18, 41-42, 67-68 | The Tragedy of Cleopatra, by Samuel Daniel (1594)
ACT 1
Act 1, Scene 1 (983-84, Antony, enjoying his time as a man of the East with Cleopatra, won’t listen to any Roman messengers: at present, she is all that he cares about.)
Antony and Cleopatra are introduced between comments by Antony’s friends and followers Philo and Demetrius. The first thing we hear is Philo’s negative assessment of the pull of Cleopatra and the East on Antony’s Roman soul. The famous general’s “dotage” upon the Egyptian Queen, he says, “O’erflows the measure,” and his eyes now seem fixated on her “tawny front.” His romantic efforts serve to “cool a gypsy’s lust” (983, 1.1.1-2, 6, 10). It is clear from the outset that Shakespeare’s text is going to code this Hellenistic ruler as dark-skinned and therefore, supposedly, unpredictable, changeable, and wild.
So Philo fears that Antony is losing, or has already lost, control of himself, both in the personal and the political sense. To behold Antony, he says, is to look upon “The triple pillar of the world transformed / Into a strumpet’s fool” (983, 1.1.12-13).
But before Philo can make this picture even more ominous, we are treated to a dialogue between the two lovers themselves. Antony’s very first words to Cleopatra, who has asked him to tell her how much he loves her, speak of boundlessness: “There’s beggary in the love that can be reckoned,” he says, and to delimit his, she would need to “find out new heaven, new earth” (983, 1.1.15, 17). The Norton editor points out that this language echoes Revelation 21:1 and may also refer to Rome’s expanding empire.
When a message comes from Rome, Cleopatra teases Antony, but is at least half-serious in her insistence that he must attend to proper Roman matters—what if it’s Octavius on state business, or his wife Fulvia expressing her anger at him? [1] Antony’s response may be the most remembered line in the play: “Let Rome in Tiber melt and the wide arch / Of the ranged empire fall! Here is my space” (984, 1.1.34-35). [2] The text’s presentation of Antony captures the dual impulse that runs through the man’s character. He is both a Roman and, at the same time, a man of the Near East.
And what is the illustrious Marcus Antonius doing in this exotic space of his? Well, as he says to Cleopatra, “Tonight we’ll wander through the streets and note / The qualities of people” (984, 1.1.54-55). People-watching! Antony pits “Egyptian” imagination and pleasure against “Roman” political duty and responsibility, and it seems obvious which he prefers, at least for the present time. Still, the opposition, as we’ll see, isn’t simply binary. Both Cleopatra and Antony understand a lot more about each other’s set of values than is immediately apparent.
Neither Philo nor Demetrius is impressed with the sort of carrying on they have been witnessing. Demetrius complains that the iconic general, by his strange antics and attitude, “approves the common liar who / Thus speaks of him at Rome” (984, 1.1.61-62). Mark Antony’s much-reverenced image is at risk.
Act 1, Scene 2 (985-89, A soothsayer tells the fortunes of Cleopatra’s servants; Antony hears that his wife Fulvia has died; he resolves to go back to Rome and deal with pressing military and political matters; Enobarbus agrees with Antony about prioritizing war and politics over women.)
A soothsayer entertains and bandies insinuations about “fertility” with Cleopatra’s servants Charmian, Alexas, and Iras, with Enobarbus looking on, until Cleopatra herself enters, and says insightfully of Antony that he is absent because “on the sudden / A Roman thought hath struck him” (986, 1.2.80-81). Antony is open to the pleasures and attractions of Egypt, but it’s just as certain that Roman thoughts will strike him when that becomes necessary.
Antony’s response to the military movements of the treasonous general Quintus Labienus against the Romans and to the death of his wife Fulvia is characteristically complex. (On Labienus, see the Norton editor’s footnote 3 to pg. 987.) With regard to the first issue, Antony says “These strong Egyptian fetters I must break, / Or lose myself in dotage” (987, 1.2.115-16). As for the second, Antony is riven by genuine sympathy for Fulvia, and yet realizes that he had more or less wished this on her: “What our contempts doth often hurl from us, / We wish it ours again” (988, 1.2.122-23).
Antony is clearly aware of Cleopatra’s influence on him, and admires her whimsicality, excess, and sense for the absolutism of the dilatory moment as opposed to Roman thoughtfulness and adherence to necessity. [3] All the same, he knows he must attend to matters in Rome: “I must from this enchanting queen break off. / Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know, / My idleness doth hatch” (988, 1.2.127-29). Enobarbus, an excellent courtier and soldier, is just as aware, and he thinks women should not be regarded when great political and military matters impend. As he says, “Under a compelling occasion, let women die” (988, 1.2.135).
By the end of the second scene, Antony is determined to make his way back to Rome. Among other things, there’s Sextus Pompeius [4] to deal with since this son of Pompey the Great is menacing the Second Triumvirate of Antony, Lepidus, and Octavius by sea (989, 1.2.178-87). Antony observes of the Roman people that they are “slippery,” in that their “Love is never linked to the deserver / Till his deserts are past …” (989, 1.2.180-82). In any event, Antony feels that he must get Cleopatra’s approval to return to Rome (989, 1.2.172-74).
Act 1, Scene 3 (989-92, Cleopatra manipulates Antony by accusing him of “acting” and betraying her, but she is a savvy operator herself, and at length gives him permission to get back to Rome.)
Cleopatra manipulates Antony, calling him a dissembler and an actor when it comes to loyalty, saying, “Good now, play one scene / Of excellent dissembling, and let it look / Like perfect honor” (991, 1.3.78-80). Throughout this third scene, we see Antony justifying his decision to return to Rome to deal with pressing matters, and wheedling the Egyptian Queen with promises of fidelity: “The strong necessity of time commands / Our services awhile, but my full heart / Remains in use with you” (990, 1.3.42-44).
Cleopatra, for her part, knows how to speak the language of Roman honor: “Your honor calls you hence” (992, 1.3.98) she says to Antony, and to some extent seems actually to mean it. It’s time to let Antony be Antony. [5]
This scene is subtle in its revelation of what the two lovers know about each other. When Cleopatra declares, “Oh, my oblivion is a very Antony, / And I am all forgotten” (991, 1.3.91-92), Antony’s response is, “But that your royalty / Holds idleness your subject, I should take you / For idleness itself” (991, 1.3.93-95). In other words, he understands that she is just as much an actor as she claims he is: the “Eastern extravagance” pose is something that this female Ptolemy (that is, Greek) employs to her advantage, not something she can’t help but assume. [6]
Antony’s scene-ending offer to Cleopatra is remarkable: “Come. / Our separation so abides and flies, / That thou residing her goes yet with me, / And I hence fleeting here remain with thee” (992, 1.3.102-05). Such formulations suggest that both lovers know they are as much in love with the idea of the other as with the material person.
Act 1, Scene 4 (992-94, Octavius Caesar airs his complaints about Antony’s reveling and neglect of duty, but also expresses confidence in the man and wants him to return to deal with their mutual antagonists Sextus Pompeius, Menas, and Menecrates.)
Here and elsewhere, we should attend to Octavius’s view of Antony’s conduct in Egypt. Octavius, who defines himself in terms of responsibility, sobriety, and—in spite of his youth—maturity, complains about Antony’s unseemly and even childish behavior, and suggests that he, Octavius (young as he is), knows how to wield power.
Still, Octavius references Antony’s longstanding reputation for valor, which he feels will shame him into returning to the field. “Leave thy lascivious wassails,” he scolds the older man in absentia (993, 1.4.56). In sum, Octavius expresses confidence to Lepidus that Antony’s shame at abandoning his Roman manner will “Drive him to Rome” (995, 1.4.73). But there is also something of genuine admiration within Octavius for his elder and legendary commander: “On the Alps / It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh / Which some did die to look on” (993, 1.4.66-68). Antony exercises a strong influence on Octavius’s imagination. But then, Octavius isn’t the kind of fellow to trust imagination overmuch.
Antony’s later admission of neglect (see 999, 2.2.97) won’t go over well with Octavius the corporation man, whose model is Aeneas, with a twist of Machiavellian guile to produce the appearance of piety. It has sometimes been said, and with considerable justice, that Octavius was the leader of Rome, Incorporated. [7]
Act 1, Scene 5 (994-96, Cleopatra’s love for Antony and extravagant view of him only grow while he’s away in Rome; she receives a fine pearl and a message from him, and vows to send him letters daily until he returns to Egypt.)
We see another side of Cleopatra here, the one that is truly in love with Antony and would just as well “sleep out this great gap of time” in his absence (994, 1.5.5). Theirs is not simply a political alliance, it’s more than that, and while Cleopatra’s motives are complex, her connection with Antony is one of the world’s grandest tragic love stories. She muses fondly about him, and mentions her earlier affair with Julius Caesar, who, she is certain, considered her “A morsel for a monarch” (995, 1.5.31).
Cleopatra has an extravagant sense of Antony’s worth, one that fits his sense of himself and that he repays with similar extravagance towards her. Nowhere is this more evident than when she calls him, “The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm / And burgonet of men” (994, 1.5.23-24). We may not see this godlike Antony in action through most of the play, but a genuinely admiring mutual representation bonds the two lovers together, so much so that they will risk all in the service of this reciprocal admiration.
The Queen’s appreciation for Antony embraces even the most complex aspects of his personality. As she says, “Be’est thou sad or merry, / The violence of either thee becomes, / So does it no man else” (995, 1.5.61-63). Mark Antony is a man of extremes, and all the while remains himself. This paradoxical unity-in-duality is no doubt partly what Cleopatra loves in him.
ACT 2
Act 2, Scene 1 (996-97, Sextus Pompeius, Menas, and Varrius consider their situation and the disposition of their foes Octavius and Antony; Pompey feels confident in his victory against them, though he is troubled by the possibility that they might combine their forces.)
Sextus Pompeius, the son of Pompey the Great, thinks the people love him, while he’s convinced that Octavius wins no hearts with his soulless efficiency and that Antony is wasting his strength with Cleopatra in Egypt (996, 2.1.9-16). Sextus has an illustrious father in the late Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus or “Pompey the Great,” [8] a member of the unofficial First Triumvirate from 59-53 BCE along with Julius Caesar and Marcus Licinius Crassus. The more official “Second Triumvirate” from 43-33 BCE [9] is the current one in this play, composed of Mark Antony, Julius Caesar’s heir Octavius, and Marcus Aemilius Lepidus.
Sextus Pompeius is somewhat rattled at Varrius’s report that Antony is in fact on his way to Rome, but his confidence remains intact. As he says, “But let us rear / The higher our opinion, that our stirring / Can from the lap of Egypt’s widow pluck / The ne’er-lust-wearied Antony” (997, 2.1.36-39). While Sextus correctly praises Antony as a general, this cockiness in the face of the danger that the man presents seems immature and naïve.
Act 2, Scene 2 (997-1003, Octavius confronts Antony over his shortcomings; Agrippa proposes a match between Antony and Octavius’s sister Octavia; Enobarbus describes Cleopatra grandly and forecasts that Antony will return to Egypt for love of her.)
Octavius and Antony confront each other, each bringing his own grievances and assumptions to the table. Octavius’s claims are very ponderous: he tasks Antony with the fact that Fulvia and Antony’s brother Lucius Antonius stirred up a rebellion against him in Antony’s name (998, 2.2.48-50). [10] He also insists that Antony ignored his messengers while carousing in Alexandria (999, 2.2.78-81).
But worst of all, says Octavius, in refusing to assist him with military supplies and money when required, he has broken faith (999, 2.2.87-89, 95-96). Antony’s admission that he “Neglected, rather” (999, 2.2.96) to keep his word doesn’t sit well with Octavius. Antony seems concerned to maintain his gravitas here. The answer he gives Octavius is little better than a deflection, but all the same, self-image is extremely important to Mark Antony, and he doesn’t take kindly to hearing his “honor” questioned by a young man he considers little more than a puppy.
While Antony goes around behaving like a wild Greek or luxurious Egyptian, Octavius is a high-level antecedent of the 1950s-era boss of “the man in the gray flannel suit”: [11] he thinks of Rome first and does what’s needed to keep the machinery of state running and the coffers full, and thinks others should always bear in mind the same concerns.
Enobarbus is mildly rebuked for trying to butt in, but Agrippa helps resolve the tension between them, at least for the present, by successfully proposing a match between Octavius’s sister Octavia and Antony: “Thou hast a sister by the mother’s side …” (1000, 2.2.126). Dynastic obligation will bring these two men of very different character together and keep them from tearing the country apart, or at least that’s the plan.
Enobarbus then talks with Agrippa and Maecenas, offering us a new image of the famous Cleopatra, one that Shakespeare has borrowed from the historian Plutarch’s Lives, specifically “The Life of Marcus Antonius,” which is Shakespeare’s main source for the play. [12] Enobarbus describes the Queen almost as a goddess, as a woman beyond description: “The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne / Burned on the water…. / … / For her own person, it beggared all description” (1002, 2.2.203-04, 209-210; see 202-217 inclusive).
Enobarbus also mentions how savvy Cleopatra is, how well she plays her charms to her advantage, making Antony visit her rather than the other way around (1003, 2.2.231-33). Cleopatra, he knows, exercises a strong hold over Antony’s imagination and passions. She “makes hungry / Where most she satisfies” (1003, 2.2.249-50), instilling desire that doesn’t lead to satiation (1003, 2.2.249-50). She also sanctifies things that would otherwise be vile. As Enobarbus says, “Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale / Her infinite variety” (1003, 2.2.247-48). That capacity is a big part of Cleopatra’s attraction—she is charismatic, larger than life.
Cleopatra’s trip to Cydnus in 41 BCE is important to an understanding of this deified power couple. Antony and Cleopatra are used to being treated like gods, as Antony has been when in the East—Cydnus is in south-central Asia Minor (Turkey at present), and the Roman general is there to fight the fierce Parthians. It’s his responsibility as one of the Second Triumvirs (43-31 BCE, consisting of Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus). There, Antony is Dionysus. When Cleopatra sails to Cydnus to meet him, she comes dressed and accompanied as Venus, and therefore at least the equal of Antony-Dionysus, the latecomer Bacchic god.
Cleopatra’s goddess trappings are the power move of a 32-year-old woman who has been “summoned” by a lordly 46-year-old Roman man, just as momentous an occasion as the striking-up of her relationship with Julius Caesar, 31 years her senior, in 48 BCE, when she was an exile of 21. It’s a remarkable testament to Shakespeare’s art that he depicts so convincingly the exalted Antony and Cleopatra as carrying on a passionate, at times troubled, and ultimately tragic human love affair. He fills her imagination, and she keeps drawing him back to her, again and again. [13]
Act 2, Scene 3 (1003-04, Antony promises Octavia that he will behave like a proper husband; a soothsayer tells Antony to stay away from the lucky Octavius Caesar; uneasy, Antony resolves to return to Egypt.)
Antony speaks to a soothsayer, who tells him to stay away from Octavius because this opponent is bound to rise higher than Antony: “If thou dost play with him at any game, / Thou art sure to lose …” (1004, 2.3.24-25). Octavius is almost as much an “evil spirit” for Antony as Julius Caesar was for Brutus on the plain at Philippi in Julius Caesar. [14] In his presence, the great Roman is afraid, unmanned.
Antony knows this, and says of Octavius that “the very dice obey him” (1004, 2.3.32). Fortune seems to be on the younger man’s side, even though Antony is a ladies’ man and ought to be on better terms with Dame Fortune. Antony resolves to return to Egypt: “though I make this marriage for my peace, / I’th’ East my pleasure lies” (1004, 2.3.38-39).
Act 2, Scenes 4-5 (1004-08, Lepidus goes after Sextus Pompeius, and must be late to Misenum and his meeting with the other two triumvirs; Lepidus also tells Maecenas and Agrippa to move up the departure dates of Antony and Octavius Caesar; Cleopatra teases absent Antony about their fishing trips, but is then stricken with jealousy when she hears about his marriage to Octavia: she strikes the messenger who gives her this news.)
In the fourth scene, we learn that Lepidus will be late on his way to Misenum where the triumvirate will meet. No doubt we are to understand his lateness as symptomatic of his weak position within the Second Triumvirate (1004-05, 2.4.1-10).
In the fifth scene, Cleopatra has fun at Antony’s expense, saying that he’s like the great fish she proposes to catch in the Nile: “I’ll think them every one an Antony” (1005, 2.5.14; see lines 10-14). Charmian reminds Cleopatra of the time when she tricked Antony while they were fishing together, hanging an already dead fish on his hook for him to haul in (1005, 2.5.15-18).
Cleopatra seems to delight in stealing from Antony his masculine symbolic power (the sword with which he earned victory against the conspirators Brutus and Cassius, who killed his friend Julius) and donning it herself: she recounts how she drank him to bed and then “put my tires and mantles on him, whilst / I wore his sword Philippan” (1005, 2.5.22-23). She will again play the role of a man, though in deadly earnest then, at the Battle of Actium when she commands her own Egyptian fleet.
The Queen soon learns that Antony will marry Octavia, and this causes her to strike the messenger who tells her so (1006, 2.5.62), but then she invites him back to inform her about Octavia’s looks (1007, 2.5.112-15). This “petty” image of Cleopatra may be the most intimate look we will get throughout the play. To adapt a line from King Henry V, “a Queen is but a woman.” This demigoddess, this female latter-day pharaoh, is for a time reduced to hoping for mockable information about her mortal rival’s height and other physical features.
Act 2, Scene 6 (1008-11, Sextus Pompeius reconciles with Octavius Caesar, Antony, and Lepidus and accepts their peace terms; Menas and Enobarbus trade wisdom on Sextus as well as Octavius Caesar and Antony—they don’t see Antony’s marriage to Octavia bringing these two men closer together.)
Sextus Pompeius makes a deal with Octavius in which he’s to take Sicily and Sardinia, but also rid the seas of piracy and send wheat to Rome (1009, 2.6.34-39). He reconciles with Octavius and Antony, and Menas says to Enobarbus, “Pompey doth this day laugh away his fortune” (1010, 2.6.103). Enobarbus, for his part, says that Antony “will to his Egyptian dish again. Then shall the / sighs of Octavia blow the fire up in Caesar” (1011, 2.6.122-23; see 121-26). Enobarbus realizes that the marriage with Octavia is purely a matter of convenience. As he says, Antony “married but his occasion here” (1011, 2.6.126). The great Roman’s heart is in Egypt with Cleopatra, and that is where he will return.
Act 2, Scene 7 (1011-14, Antony wins a drinking contest with Lepidus and Octavius; Sextus Pompeius puts honor before power and loses the respect of Menas, who has suggested to him that if only he would murder his guests, he could be master of Rome and much of the rest of the world besides.)
Lepidus, the weakest member of the Second Triumvirate, is made quite drunk at the meeting between the three and their attendants at Misenum. Antony makes sport of him by answering his silly questions about crocodiles with ludicrous tautologies. He tells Lepidus that the crocodile “is shaped, sir, like itself, and it is as broad as it hath / breadth” (1012, 2.7.43-44).
Meanwhile, Sextus Pompeius shows himself to be so indebted to the concept of Roman honor that it prevents him from taking Menas’ advice. Why not simply invite the triumvirs on board his ship and kill them? (1013, 2.7.71-74) Pompeius says that the man ought to have done this without telling him about it (1013, 2.7.75-77). Menas loses faith in Pompeius because of this rigidity. Such an opportunity, he knows, will not come again: “Who seeks and will not take when once ‘tis offered / Shall never find it more” (1013, 2.7.83-84).
Act 2, Scene 7 also shows the triumvirs’ attitude towards drinking. As the saying goes, in vino veritas. We find out that Lepidus can’t hold his liquor, which suggests that he lacks self-mastery and is a follower, not a leader. Antony, by contrast, bows to nobody as a wassailer, and Octavius would just as well stay sober (1013, 2.7.98-100, 102-03). It’s obvious that he is determined to keep his wits about him, and is more responsible in his relationship to power than Antony. Judgments are being made in this scene about who is the most pragmatic kind of “Roman” and who is, therefore, most likely to succeed.
We have seen how other Romans accuse Antony for his propensity to “turn on, tune in, and drop out,” to adapt a line from the 1960s LSD guru Timothy Leary. [15] But at this point in the play, Antony seems the strong master of revels. His range of experience and his appeal to others extend beyond Roman austerity and severity of Octavius’s sort. In his openness to experience, Antony is more of an Odyssean Greek than a Roman. [16]
Antony is sometimes forgetful of himself, to be sure. But as T. S. Eliot writes in his 1921 essay “Tradition and the Individual Talent,” “only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things.” [17] Octavius probably would not feel his lack of Antony’s qualities as much of a loss or defect—he is entirely another kind of leader.
ACT 3
Act 3, Scene 1 (1014-15, Ventidius, victorious for Antony’s cause, tells us about the Roman political star system: subordinates must not upstage their commanders; Antony is coming to Athens.)
We might take the first few scenes as a commentary on Roman values. Ventidius in Syria has returned in triumph, having defeated the Parthians who had done so much harm to Roman armies. But he doesn’t pursue the Parthians simply because doing so would mean upstaging his commanding officer, Antony: “I have done enough. A lower place, note well, / May make too great an act” (1015, 3.1.12-13). In the fiercely competitive Roman political universe, there is something like a star system in place: subordinates do not upstage their betters, if they know what’s good for them.
Ventidius also makes a remark that would probably, if Antony found out about it, get him in trouble. He says to Silius, “Caesar and Antony have ever won / More in their officer than person” (1015, 3.1.16-17). In other words, their great standing as generals stems mainly from the brilliant performance of their subordinate commanders. That’s close to Roman-speak for a man’s being “All hat and no cattle.” Careful, Ventidius!
Act 3, Scene 2 (1015-17, Octavius and Octavia express their sadness at parting; Antony sets out for Athens with Octavia; Enobarbus, a realist, says he believes that Antony’s grief over Julius Caesar’s and Brutus’s death alike was sincere, but also that the man acts now with savvy political objectives.)
Octavia weeps, and Octavius is sad at parting (1015, 3.2.3-6). He is also more than a little distrustful of the man to whom he has married his sister Octavia, and warns him, “better might we / Have loved without this mean if on both parts / This be not cherished” (1016, 3.2.31-33).
Enobarbus undercuts the notion put forth by Agrippa that Antony wept without complication not only at the death of Julius Caesar but even at the death of the assassin Marcus Brutus. He says, “What willingly he did confound he wailed, / Believe’t, till I wept too” (1017, 3.2.58-59). Shakespeare seems concerned to remind us that we are dealing with historical events that have become shaded over with mythology, and the view he prefers at some points is the practical, knowing Roman perspective we find in Enobarbus’s clear-eyed statements. [18]
Enobarbus is suggesting that Antony’s grief over the death of Julius Caesar was doubtless sincere, but also that his political chariot-wheels were spinning all the while. The subject to be determined was how, exactly, Antony was going to position himself in the wake of a sad event such as his own wife’s death. There is nothing implausible in this. Historical agents, and indeed human beings more generally, are more complex than we usually give them credit for. Just as a person who offers too many reasons for an action is apt to be treated with suspicion, so, too, is a person who offers too few.
Act 3, Scene 3 (1017-18, Cleopatra rewards the messenger for reporting that she’s more attractive than Octavia.)
Cleopatra finds out that Octavia isn’t as beautiful as she—in fact, Cleopatra interprets from what the messenger says, the undeniably noble Octavia is “Dull of tongue, and dwarfish” (1018, 3.13.16). Cleopatra now rewards the messenger she had earlier struck. It’s good to hear that the Queen doesn’t always beat her messengers! This one seems clever enough to adapt his delivery to suit what he knows the receiver wants to hear.
Act 3, Scene 4 (1018-19, war begins to percolate between Antony and an increasingly hostile Octavius Caesar; Antony allows Octavia to head for Rome so she can try to mend this tear in the fabric of his partnership with Octavius.)
War is brewing between Octavius and Antony, the latter of whom details his grievances to Octavia: Octavius, he says, has “waged / New wars ’gainst Pompey; made his will and read it / To public ear; spoke scantly of me …” (1018-19, 3.4.3-5). Antony agrees that Octavia might be helpful as a go-between, and he seems genuine in his desire that she should follow her heart in choosing sides, if that becomes necessary. He tells her, “Make your soonest haste, / So your desires are yours” (1019, 3.4.27-28, 20-28 inclusive).
Act 3, Scene 5 (1019-20, Octavius has arrested Lepidus, so he and Antony determine their areas of control of the Roman Empire; Antony prepares his navy to sail to Italy.)
Enobarbus hears from Eros that Lepidus and Octavius have made war against Sextus Pompeius, and Octavius has arrested Lepidus (1019, 3.5.10-11).
Act 3, Scene 6 (1020-22, Octavius is angry at Antony’s outrageous Egyptian self-crowning and at his treatment of Octavia: she arrives in Rome and only then is she informed that Antony has left Athens and gone back to Egypt.)
In the sixth scene, Octavius is outraged when Antony and Cleopatra crown themselves in Asiatic splendor (1020, 3.6.3-5) and has gifted his Egyptian paramour with “lower Syria, Cyprus, Lydia” (1020, 3.6.10). The Roman people know of this, says Octavius (1020, 3.6.23-24). Cleopatra shows herself to her people dressed as the goddess Isis. It’s all too much for Octavius, and we can add to this Antony’s carping about supposedly not being accorded his share of Octavius’s spoils from the campaign against Sextus Pompeius, and his insistence that Lepidus should be removed from the Second Triumvirate arrangement and stripped of his gains.
At least as unacceptable as all of this, in Octavius’s view, is the fact that his sister Octavia has found it necessary to visit him alone, and without the appropriate ceremony that is due to her when she travels (1021, 3.6.43-47).
Octavius’s contempt for Antony’s conduct shows most when he says of the man, “He hath given his empire / Up to a whore” (1021, 3.6.67-68). Well, Octavius had agreed to the match between his rival and Octavia readily enough in spite of his reservations about Antony’s character. Now he invites Octavia to stay on his side, suggesting that Antony has betrayed her, saying, “You are abused / Beyond the mark of thought” (1022, 3.6.88-89). Octavius has to inform Octavia that Antony isn’t in Athens but with Cleopatra in Egypt.
Act 3, Scene 7 (1022-24, Cleopatra takes offense at Enobarbus’ suggestion to stay out of the wars; Antony goes against the advice of his military commanders and, with Cleopatra’s encouragement, he decides to fight Octavius Caesar by sea; Antony is surprised at the speed and efficiency of Octavius’s forces.)
Enobarbus tells Cleopatra to stay out of the wars, and she’s insulted at the suggestion, especially his remark that her “presence needs must puzzle Antony” (1022, 3.7.10). She insists, all the same, that she will take part in Antony’s wars, and, she says, “A charge we bear i’th’ war, / And as the president of my kingdom will / Appear there for a man” 1023, 3.7.16-18). She is a ruler and doesn’t accept the role of a “weak woman,” or indeed of a woman at all.
Antony now makes the disastrous decision to fight Octavius by sea because the latter has dared him to do so. Enobarbus is aghast at this un-Roman impracticality, at Antony’s preference for “chance and hazard” instead of security (1023, 3.7.48, 35-49 inclusive).
Perhaps Antony is at times foolhardy, but he’s also noble; power sits lightly upon his shoulders. The hair of wise and responsible rulers turns gray quickly, but one senses that such a transformation isn’t likely to overtake Mark Antony. He’s too reckless to be weighed down by the demands of power, and prefers an unstable alliance between honor and hazard to a more stable one of the sort Enobarbus would counsel, and Octavius would certainly maintain. [19]
At the scene’s end, Antony seems surprised at how briskly Octavius’s forces are moving into position (1023-24, 3.7.57-61). The men around Antony (Canidius in particular) feel that since he’s led by a woman, so are they: “we are women’s men” (1024, 3.7.71). Canidius also says of Antony that “his whole action grows / Not in the power on’t” (1024, 3.7.69-70), which the Norton editor glosses to mean that his military strategy is severed from consideration of his actual resources. We don’t need to be experts on war to know that a huge part of it is logistics.
Act 3, Scenes 8-10 (1024-26, Octavius Caesar keeps his forces from starting any land battles; Antony prepares his navy squadrons for the offshore fight; Cleopatra’s fleet turns around and flees the battle, and Antony follows her back to land; Canidius decides to desert, but Enobarbus stays on for the time being.)
Octavius and Antony strategize, and it’s clear that the former is all about maintaining control over events. His instructions are, “Strike not by land… / … Do not exceed / The prescript of this scroll” (1024, 3.8.3-5). By Act 3, Scene 10, we hear that the Egyptian fleet has cut and run (1025, 3.10.1-3).
Scarus laments that Antony’s Romans have “kissed away / Kingdoms and provinces” (1025, 3.10.7-8). The charge is that Antony is irresponsible in his deployment of military power. He has allowed his love of Cleopatra to blind him to sound counsel, and Scarus laments, “Experience, manhood, honor ne’er before / Did violate so itself” (1025, 3.10.22-23). Incredibly, Antony has followed Cleopatra’s shameful retreat at the first sign of danger. [20]
This kind of mistake has consequences. Canidius decides that he might as well go over to Octavius since Antony has lost control over his own destiny (932, 3.10.32-34). Enobarbus knows what Canidius knows, but still can’t bring himself to abandon his commander: “I’ll yet follow / The wounded chance of Antony, though my reason / Sits in the wind against me” (1026-27, 3.10.34-36).
Act 3, Scene 11 (1026-27, a despairing Antony recognizes his grave mistake and the loss of his identity as the legend “Mark Antony”; he is furious with Cleopatra, but pardons her for a kiss.)
Antony is horrified—“I have fled myself…,” he says. “I have offended reputation, / A most unnoble swerving” (1027, 3.11.48-49). He understands that he has thrown away everything he worked for, and he says to his friends, “I / Have lost my way forever. I have a ship / Laden with gold. Take that; divide it. Fly, / And make your peace with Caesar” (1026, 3.11.3-6). How many modern politicians and military leaders—or ancient ones, for that matter—would be so forthright and generous in defeat?
What makes the situation even more intolerable is Octavius’s relative lack of martial skill and experience. Antony reminds us that it was he who killed his friend Julius’ assassins while the fledgling stood by: “He at Philippi kept / His sword e’en like a dancer …” (1026, 3.11.35-36). Antony has been a world-historical actor, and now his star is eclipsed by a lesser man, at least in his view.
Antony is at first furious with Cleopatra, who can say little aside from, “I little thought / You would have followed” (1027, 3.11.55-56). But he reconciles with her almost immediately. When she asks pardon, he grants it, considering himself well repaid with a kiss (1027, 3.11.69-71). Antony is quite the romantic. He places Cleopatra above victory on the battlefield, saying grandly, “Fall not a tear, I say. One of them rates / All that is won and lost” (1027, 3.11.69-70).
Act 3, Scene 12 (1027-28, Antony petitions Octavius to allow him to live in Egypt, but Caesar turns his petition down; Cleopatra behaves submissively towards Octavius, who, sending Thidias to negotiate with her, demands that she send Antony into exile or kill him outright.)
Antony sends his schoolmaster, Thidias, to treat with Octavius (1027, 3.12.2-6). Cleopatra says she will submit to Octavius and wishes only to remain Queen of Egypt, and while Octavius disregards Antony’s request to live as “a private man in Athens” (1028, 3.12.15), he orders that the Queen be comforted and promised all she wants, so long as she either exiles or kills Antony (1028, 3.12.19-24). He supposes this shift will work because women, as far as he is concerned, are infinitely malleable under the pressure of circumstance. As he puts it, “Women are not / In their best fortunes strong, but want will perjure / The ne’er-touched vestal” (1028, 3.12.29-31). [21]
Act 3, Scene 13 (1028-33, Enobarbus blames Antony for the military disaster, but still can’t bring himself to desert his commander; Antony offers Octavius an absurd challenge to single combat; Cleopatra cooperates with Octavius; Antony tries to recover what Octavius “knew [he] was,” orders Octavius’s messenger whipped, and rages at Cleopatra, though he again reconciles with her; Enobarbus finally decides to desert Antony.)
Enobarbus won’t blame Cleopatra for the military disaster, but says instead that Antony has made “his will / Lord of his reason” (1028, 3.13.3-4). [22] Antony absurdly challenges Octavius to single combat (1029, 3.13.25-28). Enobarbus is stunned. His illusions about Antony have been stripped away, and he sees that the man has been entirely bereft of sound judgment. He admits with sadness, “Mine honesty and I begin to square” (1029, 3.13.41).
Enobarbus continues to mull his relationship with Antony, and thinks his loyalty will earn him a place in the history books: by sticking with Antony yet a while longer, he’ll “conquer” the man who defeated that noble Roman. The loyal friend who does this, he suggests, “earns a place i’th’ story” (1029, 3.13.46; see 41-46). This might be labeled a metadramatic concern because Shakespeare himself is clearly interested in how legends become enmeshed with history.
Much of this play (to borrow a phrase from the New Historians) [23] is about a kind of “self-fashioning” that, if successful, becomes the narrative by which we know the boldest among the ancients. Even in Antony and Cleopatra’s own time, mythmaking was at work, and so were its critics.
Cleopatra seems to be going along with Octavius’s program, flattering him with the words, “He is a god and knows / What is most right” (1030, 3.13.60-61). Her lover, however, is still saying “I am / Antony yet” (1031, 3.13. 93-94). Antony wants to re-embrace his identity as a valorous Roman commander, and orders Octavius’s messenger Thidias soundly whipped for too well conveying his master’s attitude towards the conquered general (1031, 3.13.94).
Soon, Antony’s anger again turns towards Cleopatra in the memorable line, “You have been a boggler ever” (1031, 3.13.111). He accuses her of latching onto and manipulating famous Roman men like Julius Caesar, Pompey the Great, and himself to enhance her own power, which rests on the different and most un-Roman basis of alliance with divine splendor and awe. “I found you as a morsel cold upon / Dead Caesar’s trencher,” he scolds Cleopatra (1031, 3.13.117-18).
Without a doubt, the Queen of Egypt is the leader of an ancient personality cult, and while her stylistic affinity with Antony’s grandiose dimension is obvious, he now professes to find the whole affair disgusting. Above all, he says, Cleopatra lacks “temperance” and indeed that she doesn’t even know the meaning of the word (1031, 3.13.122-23).
Antony’s anger also flows toward Octavius for “harping on what I am, / Not what he knew I was” (1032, 3.13.144-45). The legendary general supposes that the reputation he has justly won entitles him to the continued respect and esteem of those who have overcome him.
Readers familiar with Shakespeare’s history play Richard II may recall that King Richard is often left helpless by his deep belief in the sacred nature and significance of his office. The ceremony enfolding his every movement and word isn’t simply a formal matter with him. In a sense, the great Mark Antony’s evident conviction in his own nobility and “Romanness” proves just as troublesome to him, at times robbing him of his proper judgment and blinding him to truth and reality. It’s a risk that the powerful run: they start believing in their own “specialness” to an unhealthy and even lethal degree.
The conclusion of Act 3, Scene 13 shows Antony reconciling yet again with Cleopatra (who after all seems to represent a tendency within him more than an external cause or excuse for his failure), and regains his composure: “I am satisfied,” he declares (1033, 3.13.169), and that’s that. Antony calls for a night of drinking and celebration on the eve of the final battle to recover his lost glory, saying, “I and my sword will earn our chronicle. / There’s hope in’t yet” (1033, 3.13.177-78). He may yet win at Alexandria.
This strange recovery on Antony’s part is the last straw for Enobarbus: “When valor preys on reason, / It eats the sword it fights with” (1033, 3.13.200-01), he says, and decides it’s time to desert his old commander at the earliest opportunity.
ACT 4
Act 4, Scenes 1-6 (1033-38, Octavius scorns Antony’s personal challenge, and readies his forces for battle; Antony is elegiac but resolute, asking his servants to stay with him; Antony’s guards hear music and believe Hercules is abandoning him; Cleopatra and Eros help Antony don his armor; Antony learns that Enobarbus is gone, and generously sends the man’s treasure to Octavius’s camp; Octavius rolls out his new world order through ruthless military arrangements; Enobarbus now despises himself for leaving Antony, and determines to die.)
These brief scenes convey the contrasting attitudes and reactions on the part of Antony and Octavius towards the coming battle. Antony is at times elegiac in tone, as Act 4, Scene 2: “Perchance tomorrow / You’ll serve another master,” he tells his men (1035, 4.2.27-28). To the dismay of Enobarbus, he adds, “I hope well of tomorrow…” (1035, 4.2.42).
In Act 4, Scene 3, a soldier takes a noise to be Hercules abandoning Antony (1035, 4.3.21-22), which is especially significant since Antony’s family claimed descent from that demigod. [24]
In Act 4, Scene 4, Antony seems resolute: he will lead his men into the battle, and wishes Cleopatra could behold him in all his splendor. He exclaims, “That thou couldst see my wars today, and knew’st / The royal occupation” (1036, 4.4.16-17).
In Act 4, Scene 5, Antony learns that Enobarbus has deserted him, and realizes that his own “fortunes have / Corrupted honest men” (1037, 4.5.16-17). He says these words to Eros and not in soliloquy, but they seem heartfelt.
In Act 4, Scene 6, Octavius declares that “the time of universal peace is near” (1038, 4.6.5), yet without compunction he also reveals the true nature of this new world order: he advises his lieutenant to place units recently revolted from Antony at the forefront, so that in the first rounds of the battle, Antony will be killing his own men; he will “spend his fury / Upon himself” (1038, 4.6.10-11).
Enobarbus has now come to realize that he has destroyed his self-image in abandoning Antony: “I am alone the villain of the earth …” (1038, 4.6.31). When Antony generously sends him his treasure from camp, the desolation of Enobarbus is complete. He resolves to die as quickly and wretchedly as possible: “I will go seek / Some ditch wherein to die” (1038, 4.6.38-39).
Act 4, Scenes 7-11 (1038-41, Antony enjoys a win and marches through Alexandria to celebrate; Enobarbus dies, filled with bitter remorse; Octavius will fight Antony by sea again.)
So far, Antony’s desperate gambit shows signs of success since Octavius seems to have overextended his forces (1038, 4.7.1-3). Eros is able to announce to Antony, “They are beaten, sir” (1039, 4.8.11). For the moment, Octavius has been driven back to his camp, a fact that Antony trumpets in the ninth scene, with special instructions to inform the Queen of this great feat (1039, 4.8.2).
In Scene 9, Enobarbus dies reasserting his admiration for Antony: “Forgive me in thine own particular, / But let the world rank me in register / A master-leaver and a fugitive,” he prays, and his beloved general’s name is the last word he utters. (1040-41, 4.10.21-23). Friendship between men, or amicitia perfecta, [25] was among the highest Roman values, and it is this value that Enobarbus realizes he has sordidly betrayed.
In Scene 11, Octavius announces that he will fight Antony at sea one last time (1041, 4.11.1-4). This decision seems as ill-advised as the previous one favoring a sea-fight.
Act 4, Scene 12 (1041-42, the Egyptian fleet again cuts and runs, deserting Antony, who becomes enraged with Cleopatra and even says he means to kill her.)
The Egyptian fleet again deserts Antony, even going over to Octavius’s side (1042, 4.12.9-13). Upon this betrayal, Antony declares Cleopatra a “Triple-turned whore” (1042, 4.13.13). He says that he is now betrayed and finished, defeated by a cowardly queen and a journeyman politician: “O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more. / Fortune and Antony part here” (1042, 4.13.18-19). He is so infuriated with her that he seethes, “The witch shall die” (1042, 4.13.47). For a moment, he imagines her at the mercy of the Roman plebeians. He barks at her, “Most monster-like be shown / For poor’st diminutives, for dolts …” (1042, 4.13.33-34).
Act 4, Scenes 13 (1043, Charmian advises the frightened Cleopatra to hide inside one of her monuments and play dead to avoid Antony’s wrath.)
Charmian advises Cleopatra to hide in a monument, and send false word of her death: “To the monument! / There lock yourself, and send him word that you are dead” (1043, 4.13.3-4). The Queen agrees to Charmian’s plan.
Act 4, Scene 14 (1043-46, Antony believes Cleopatra has committed suicide, and botches his own suicide attempt when Eros refuses to assist him; he now learns that Cleopatra is still alive, and requests that he be conveyed to her; Dercetas takes Antony’s sword to ingratiate himself with Octavius; Diomedes arrives with a message from Cleopatra, but it comes too late.)
Antony continues to lament what he considers Cleopatra’s betrayal, saying, “She has robbed me of my sword (1043, 4.14.23) and admitting that he “made these wars” for no one but Egypt and her (1043, 4.15.15). When he hears that she has supposedly committed suicide, however, he is again instantly reconciled: “I will o’ertake thee, Cleopatra, and / Weep for my pardon” (1044, 4.15.44-45). In conquering herself, thinks Antony, she has shown him the way (1044, 4.15.57-62). He then makes a botched attempt to fall on his sword after his servant Eros commits suicide rather than assist his master in dying (1045, 4.15.93-94).
Nobody will help Antony end his life, and Dercetas even takes his sword as a token with which to ingratiate himself with Octavius (1046, 4.15.112-14). [26] Diomedes enters with a message from Cleopatra, who has had second thoughts about the risks involved in her message proclaiming herself dead, but it’s too late to help Antony. The damage is done.
Act 4, Scene 15 (1047-49, Antony is hoisted into Cleopatra’s monument, and he and she are together one last time; while he is dying, Cleopatra plans to leave the world in the time-honored Roman way.)
Antony and Cleopatra are together for one final scene, and when he tries to get her to seek safety and honor in Octavius, she bravely points out that “honor” and “safety” don’t go together (1048, 4.15.49). That has long been the creed Antony has followed, for better or for worse. Antony falls back on the classical notion that glory is a matter of what your peers and descendants think of you. [27] His wretched present, he trusts, will not blot out the glorious remembrance he has earned by his brave deeds in the past: “please your thoughts / In feeding them with those my former fortunes …” (1048, 4.16.54-55; see 53-61 inclusive).
Moments later, Antony dies. Cleopatra says that she and Charmian, too, will evade the clutches of Octavius. They will, they say, exit the world instead “after the high Roman fashion / And make death proud to take us” (1049, 4.16.91-92). The Egyptian Queen’s final act of self-transformation, of self-fashioning, will be to die like a Roman.
ACT 5
Act 5, Scene 1 (1049-51, Octavius, though ruthless, is saddened by Antony’s death; he tells Proculeius to deceive Cleopatra and thereby preserve her for an eventual spot in his triumph.)
When Dercetas informs Octavius that Antony is dead, he seems genuinely upset: “The breaking of so great a thing should make / A greater crack!” (1049, 5.1.14-15). Antony lived prodigiously, and yet his passing has been noted as if it were a thing of nothing, no ceremony. Octavius may not be much of a pageantry promoter, but he shows some regard for the rites due to honor. He regrets what his need to maintain and increase his power has led him to do (1050, 5.1.35-48). Which doesn’t, of course, mean that he wouldn’t do it again in a heartbeat.
Octavius serves political expediency, but his strength consists partly in the attitude he takes up towards what his station as a public man leads him to do. His ruthless actions are taken in the name of “universal peace” and the greater glory of Rome. Octavius sometimes deceives others about the nature of what he does, but he doesn’t deceive himself about the disjunction between his ideals and his deeds. [28]
When Octavius says that he mourns for Antony “With tears as sovereign as the blood of hearts …” (1050, 5.1.41), most of us will believe him in a hushed theater, but we also bear witness to his devious, mercenary treatment of Cleopatra. He bids Proculeius to treat the Queen kindly and make her what promises he finds suitable, but this is only a shift to bring her in triumph to Rome, where she will be an object of mockery for the rabble: “For her life in Rome / Would be eternal in our triumph” (1050, 5.1.65-66; see 61-68).
The future Augustus Caesar, maker of the Pax Romana, is ruthlessly competitive to the core, and the only way he knows how to play the game of politics is “zero sum.”
Act 5, Scene 2 (1051-60, Cleopatra exalts Antony; Proculeius reassures her, but Roman soldiers capture her; Dolabella warns her of Octavius’s plan to bring her in triumph to Rome, and she determines to meet Antony in death; Octavius asks Cleopatra for a wealth inventory, which she lies about, only to be exposed; a rustic brings Cleopatra a basket of figs that conceals a poisonous asp; she makes the snake bite her; Iras dies, Cleopatra succumbs, then Charmian dies; Octavius orders Antony and Cleopatra buried side-by-side.)
Cleopatra is refashioning herself as heroic in the Roman manner, as one who will take her own life by noble action. We might suppose this is merely a matter of adopting a style. But then, Cleopatra takes style quite seriously, [29] and her Pharaonic self-fashioning is no light matter. It wouldn’t be right to take that quality away from her. She is surrounded by Octavius’s soldiers, and now determines that she will not become the sport of the vulgar in Rome. She asks bitterly, “Shall they hoist me up / And show me to the shouting varletry / Of censuring Rome?” (1052, 5.2.54-56)
In the presence of Dolabella, Cleopatra refashions and aggrandizes Antony to the point of deification, musing, “I dreamt there was an Emperor Antony” and “His legs bestrid the ocean; his reared arm / Crested the world …” (1053, 5.2.75, 81-82; see 81-91, 95-99). She has always shown this propensity to exalt Antony’s deeds and reputation, but now that death is closing in, her efforts intensify and take on heightened significance. This is the Antony to whom Cleopatra will soon attempt to return in Elysium, reunited there as an even grander couple than they were on earth.
Dolabella plays an honorable role, forewarning Cleopatra of the shameful fate that awaits her in just three days (1053-54, 5.2.99ff). He introduces her to the terrible news with genuine concern, saying, “I am loath to tell you what I would you knew” (1053, 5.2.106). But he must tell her all the same, thereby giving us an excellent instance of Roman honor in its truest sense.
Octavius enters and plays both gracious conqueror and vicious threatener of Cleopatra’s progeny, if she should follow Antony’s self-destructive course (1054, 5.2.123-32). When Seleucis betrays Cleopatra over holding back some treasure from Octavius, who has demanded a financial accounting from her, she is shocked (1054, 5.2.147). This reaction suggests that she still doesn’t fully understand the dynamics of power: people obey those in whom they find real, actionable strength. They don’t long obey those who have only majesty and divine pomp to back their rule.
Cleopatra resents being “worded” by Octavius (1055, 5.2.190-91). She loathes the prospect that he will, as she puts it, let “Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness, / I’th’ posture of a whore” (1056, 5.2.218-19). [30] She has always been an actor, but only in her proper sphere as Egyptian Queen, acting the part of a goddess correlated with the exercise of power. In Rome, what had been world-historical drama would be reduced to an entertaining farce for the multitude. Shakespeare’s audience, of course, would have found much humor in that phrase “boy my greatness” since Shakespeare’s Cleopatra was played by a boy, not a woman.
Cleopatra declares that there will be a final meeting with Antony in death. She declares, “I am again for Cydnus / To meet Mark Antony” (1056, 5.2.227-28). The place name refers to her initial seduction of Antony in 41 BCE, when he summoned her to Tarsus and she floated down the river Cydnus on that famous barge we recall from Enobarbus’ description, the one that “like a burnished throne / Burned on the water.” [31] Cleopatra will accomplish this meeting—essentially a return to an initial triumph—by casting off the supposed weakness of her sex: she declares grandly, “I have nothing / Of woman in me” (1057, 5.2.237-38).
In comes the Clown, with his prayer that Cleopatra may find “all joy of the worm” or Nile serpent he has brought her (1057, 5.2.257). It’s worth considering why—aside from the obvious, which is that such an unimportant fellow should easily avoid the attentions of the Roman guards—Shakespeare has chosen to present Cleopatra with her death accompanied by the quizzical words and gestures of this semi-comic, bizarre rustic, who plays a larger role here than he does in North’s translation of Plutarch. [32]
Perhaps it has something to do with the utter strangeness of each person’s ending, at least to that person, but the Clown’s presence may also be meant to remind us that Cleopatra lived and risked all for an erotic affair. If so, the Clown’s patently phallic references to “the worm” end up being as relevant as they are indecorous and impertinent on his part. See, for example, his puns on “dying” as orgasm in particular at (1057, 5.2.244-46, 248-55). A third consideration is that the Clown presents the Queen with one last challenge to her royal and wished-for divine dignity.
Be all that as it may, Cleopatra meets her death bravely, calling upon Antony to witness her masculine courage, saying, “I have / Immortal longings in me,” and “I am fire and air. My other elements / I give to baser life” (1058, 5.2.276-77, 285-86). [33] She dies at 1058, 5.2.309, Iras having preceded her by only a few minutes. [34]
Octavius, whom Cleopatra considers almost with her last breath an “ass / Unpolicied” for allowing her to make away with herself, enters the scene after her death and declares it noble and an act of loyalty to Antony (1058, 5.2.303-04). He ratifies Charmian’s dying words that Cleopatra’s death is “well done and fitting for a princess / Descended of so many royal kings” (1059, 5.2.322-23). Octavius also agrees to bury her next to Antony, apparently recognizing the high tragedy of their doomed love match, the “pity” of which equals the “glory” of his current status as military victor and his future as Rome’s sole ruler (1060, 5.2.354-62).
There’s dignity in sublime failure, it seems, as well as in the establishment of peace and long-continued rule. “Rome, Inc.” will have its shiny new CEO, and for the future Augustus Caesar, [35] apotheosis to heaven can wait. Both Antony and Cleopatra and Octavius are great in their respective ways, but the former are crushed by the modern world in which Octavius moves more deftly, if not with the same tragic glory.
Antony and Cleopatra’s manner of dying, and Octavius’s of living and governing, together show a clash of value systems, a fissure in the concept of Romanness. The play doesn’t condemn either system, although it shows the consequences and historical import of both: modern, material politics wins. We should bear in mind the strangeness of the final two acts’ tragic arc: Antony’s sudden condemnations and reconciliations, Cleopatra’s dissembling and her final adoption of Roman heroism, Octavius’s recognition of the lasting narrative value of the great pair he has hounded to their demise.
Throughout the play, Antony and Cleopatra have been both each other’s downfall and salvation. In the end, Cleopatra’s initial false suicide taught Antony to do the right thing in earnest, and that suicide, in turn, led Cleopatra to exit the world’s stage like the hybrid Egyptian Queen and antique Roman she had become.
There is the hint of an imperfectly realized romance pattern in Antony and Cleopatra. We might say that this hint is to be found in the fourth act when the royal couple are forced to attempt a transition from the loss of supreme power to a more perfect union as lovers. It’s true that this play, in terms of Shakespeare’s chronology, is crafted at the tail end of his so-called dark period and on the cusp of the romance plays that round off his career. [36]
Romance, however, entails selective survival. Even as it provides second chances and near-miraculous reconciliations, instilling in us a sense that the world isn’t quite as harsh as we thought it was, romance requires us to accept the reality that recovery comes only with partial loss and the admission of alterations wrought by time and error. The romance pattern can’t annihilate time or decay, and it doesn’t seem to allow for straightforward exaltation or apotheosis to perfection. In the end, its miracles are profoundly human, tinged with sorrow and mortality.
The historical record in the case of Antony and Cleopatra, of course, makes the romance pattern impossible: that record tells us of the liquidation of a famous couple at the hands of a power-consolidating ruler in Octavius. Shakespeare takes the two lovers in a different direction, one more consonant with tragedy. Their persistent, impressive self-mythologizing and image-projecting lends Antony and Cleopatra a measure of larger-than-lifeness, and they place their love beyond any power that Octavius’s politics and armies can wield against them. They ask for immortality, which is more than Shakespearean romance can or will grant.
Antony and Cleopatra remains firmly in the tragic camp since the relentless pursuit by Octavius at last yields the results he’s been aiming for: sole possession of the world’s first superpower, the Roman Empire.
If there’s success for Antony and Cleopatra, it’s that audiences during and since Shakespeare’s time have probably found it difficult to decide between the romantic exaltation of the two great lovers and the historical achievements of the enigmatic Octavius, thereafter to be known as Augustus Caesar.
What we are treated to, then, is not the bittersweet survival and renewal that we encounter in plays such as The Winter’s Tale and The Tempest, but instead Antony and Cleopatra’s classical attempt by means of soaring words and exuberant perspectives to attain a new and marvelous love beyond the wreckage that was the end of the Roman Republic, with its proscriptions, assassinations, wars and internecine rivalries, and beyond even the birth of the Empire.
This sounds like a classical apotheosis to the heavens in the manner of ancient Greek heroes who became demigods after their deaths. Such an apotheosis would involve the transposition of a perfect love into another and diviner key. This attempted transformation, at least if we do not grant Cleopatra her metaphysical reunion with Antony, fits the tragic pattern. We are left with the crushing of a magnificent couple’s last-minute attempts to achieve a perpetual match in the heavens and thereby escape their failure in a material world dominated by its Caesars.
Edition. Greenblatt, Stephen et al., editors. The Norton Shakespeare: Tragedies + Digital Edition. 3rd ed. W. W. Norton, 2016. ISBN-13: 978-0-393-93860-9.
Copyright © 2012, revised 2025 Alfred J. Drake
Document Timestamp: 9/21/2025 11:37 AM
ENDNOTES
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[1] Throughout this commentary, the names “Octavius” and occasionally “Octavius Caesar” will be used to prevent confusion with “Julius Caesar.” The only exceptions will be when a direct quotation refers to Octavius as “Caesar.”
[2] It might be said, in anticipation of a contrast between Octavius and Antony, that Antony’s contrarian model of Romanness embraces the supposedly wild, exotic aspects of Egypt without suffering any diminution or deformation on that account. Or at least, that seems to be the case early in the play. But as Rachel Kelly points out in “The Iconography of Mark Antony” a direct download available from the open-access Networking Knowledge: Journal of the MeCCSA Postgraduate Network at https://www.ojs.meccsa.org.uk, the ancients, as reflected in Plutarch’s narrative of Antony, might have seen in Antony’s behavior an unacceptable softness (mollitia) and lack of self-control (incontinentia).
[3] On Cleopatra as a Hellenistic Ptolemaic queen, see “Cleopatra the Great: Last Power of the Ptolemaic Dynasty.” ARCE: American Research Center in Egypt. Accessed 8/23/2024.
[4] On Sextus Pompeius, see “Sextus Pompeius: Pirate King.” Ancient Roman History 31 BC – AD 117: Roman Imperial History Teaching Resource. Accessed 8/23/2024.
[5] “Honor” would have been encompassed within the several concepts operative in the unwritten mos maiorum code that reaffirmed traditional Roman values. Wikipedia’s entry mos maiorum aptly covers concepts such as virtus, dignitas, and fides. Accessed 8/23/2024.
[6] For a general study, see Millar, Fergus. The Roman Near East: 31 BC – AD 337. Harvard UP, 1995. ISBN-13: 978-0674778863. On the Internet, see “Roman Egypt.” World History Encyclopedia at worldhistory.org. Accessed 8/23/2024. On the Western notion of the east as exotic, “other,” etc., see Edward Said’s key postcolonialist study, Orientalism. Vintage, 1979. ISBN-13: 978-0394740676.
[7] The phrase appears in a work by humorist and novelist Stanley Bing. Rome, Inc.: The Rise and Fall of the First Multinational Corporation. W. W. Norton, 2007. ISBN-13: 978-0393329452.
[8] On Pompey the Great, or Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus, see “Pompey.” World History Encyclopedia at worldhistory.org. Accessed 8/23/2024.
[9] See “First Triumvirate” and “Second Triumvirate.” World History Encyclopedia at worldhistory.org. Accessed 8/23/2024.
[10] This was the so-called Perusine War of 41-40 BCE. The aim was apparently to get Antony to leave Egypt and come home to Rome. On this rebellion against Octavius, see “Octavian’s Stolen Luck at Perusia.” Thehistorianshut.com. Accessed 9/17/2025.
[11] Wilson, Sloane. The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit. Da Capo Press, 2002, orig. 1955. ISBN-13: 978-1568582467.
[12] See Plutarch’s Life of Marcus Antonius, 33 Temple Edition Vol. 9, pp. 33-349.
[13] On Cleopatra’s first meeting with Antony in Cydnus, see “Antony and Cleopatra.” SPQR Encyclopedia Romana. Penelope.uchicago.edu. Accessed 9/17/2025.
[14] Shakespeare, William. The Tragedy of Julius Caesar. In The Norton Shakespeare: Tragedies, 3rd ed. 288-343. 334, 4.3.286.
[15] See “Timothy Leary” on Harvard University’s psychology faculty page.
[16] The term “openness to experience” has a Nietzschean quality—the German philosopher valued the wilder, more Dionysian element in the ancient Greeks, seeing it as indispensable for the flourishing of the bright Apollonian element that was more celebrated among nineteenth-century classicists. In this Nietzschean sense, then, Antony seems more “Greek” than Roman.
[17] Eliot, T. S. “Tradition and the Individual Talent.” (poetryfoundation.org.)
[18] Shakespeare may have had very limited knowledge of the Greeks and Romans in comparison with what is known and reasonably surmised by modern historians, but he made the most of what he had, often casting his ancient characters and societies with an impressive understanding of their political sophistication and complex relationship with their own origin-stories. T. J. B. Spencer’s Shakespeare: The Roman Plays (Longmans, Green & Co., 1976) is a perceptive study of the subject.
[19] Antony’s career poses something of a challenge to the Aristotelian “golden mean” as the touchstone of virtue. For that concept, see Aristotle. Nichomachean Ethics. Becker 1106a26–b28. The basic point is that a “virtue” is to be located at the mean or mid-point between excess of a quality and deficiency. Excessive courage amounts to foolhardiness, for example, and deficiency of it amounts to cowardice. The “golden mean” indicates just the right amount of the relevant quality in one’s actions. Antony, of course, seems more prone to act in accordance with the extremes of his own character and desires, and yet for much of his life, that way of proceeding seems to have served him well. Perseus Project. Accessed 8/23/2024.
[20] See “Battle of Actium” at livius.org. Accessed 8/23/2024.
[21] See “The Role of Women in the Roman World.” World History Encyclopedia. Worldhistory.org. Accessed 8/23/2024.
[22] In Renaissance psychology, reason should inform the will before action is undertaken. See Renaissance Soul Guide on the current website.
[23] See Veeser, H. Aram, ed. The New Historicism Reader. Routledge, 1993. ISBN-13: 978-0415907828.
[24] Antony’s connection to Hercules. See “The Iconography of Mark Antony.” (This is a direct download to a paper by Rachel Kelly, 2009.) Networking Knowledge: Journal of the MeCCSA Postgraduate Network, an open access journal. See https://www.ojs.meccsa.org.uk. See Ovid, Fasti, II.81, or Feb. 15, Lupercalia (poetryintranslation.com) for the story of Omphale and Hercules. Accessed 8/23/2024.
[25] Amicitia perfecta. See Shakespeare’s Globe essay “Shakespeare and Friendship.” April 6, 2018. Accessed 8/23/2024.
[26] On classical-era suicide, see “What did ‘Noble Death’ Mean to Greeks and Romans?” TheCollector.com. Accessed 9/17/2025.
[27] On classical notions of the afterlife, see, for example, “The Afterlife in Ancient Greece.” World History Encyclopedia. Worldhistory.org. Accessed 8/23/2024.
[28] Leaders such as Octavius have “always already” familiarized themselves with the Renaissance political writer Niccolò Machiavelli: shrewd leaders will take care to maintain a reputation for qualities such as fairness, moderation, and piety, though they seldom limit their actual policy and personal conduct to those parameters. Above all, Machiavelli would suggest that naively trusting in the goodness of others opens a ruler up to all sorts of manipulation and eventually leads to disaster.
[29] It isn’t hard to imagine Cleopatra agreeing with Oscar Wilde’s character Gwendolen in The Importance of Being Earnest that “In matters of grave importance, style, not sincerity, is the vital thing.” Gutenberg e-text. Or we might say that for Wilde and Gwendolen, and Cleopatra, style and sincerity are the same. Accessed 9/18/2025.
[30] This metadramatic line about a boy actor playing a famous Egyptian woman was obviously intended to draw a robust laugh from Shakespeare’s audience since, in his time, women were not allowed to become stage actors. In the larger sense, however, Shakespeare thereby underscores the distance between the complex reality of a Cleopatra and his necessarily much more limited, fictive representation of her.
[31] Shakespeare, William. The Tragedy of Antony and Cleopatra. In The Norton Shakespeare: Tragedies, 3rd ed. 982-1060. See 1002, 2.2.202-217.
[32] See Plutarch. The Lives of the Noble Grecians and Romans. Trans. Thomas North. Wordsworth Editions Limited, 1998.
[33] The Norton editors make this point about Cleopatra’s claim to supposedly masculine virtues on 1058, in footnote 9.
[34] On the elements and the four humors—Cleopatra’s invocation of “fire and air” belongs to this complex of ideas—see “The Story of the Four Elements.” See also the guide available at the present site, “The Theory of the Humours.”
[35] The Roman Senate bestowed the honorific name of Augustus on Octavius Caesar in 27 BCE.
[36] For an introduction to Shakespeare’s romance mode, see the present site’s commentary on The Tempest. In a sense, Antony and Cleopatra “wants” to become a romance play, but the actual history of the main characters prevents that story arc.