Enter another Messenger

ANTONY         From Sicyon, ho, the news? Speak there.

SECOND MESSENGER           The man from Sicyon—

ANTONY         Is there such a one?

SECOND MESSENGER           He stays upon your will.

ANTONY         Let him appear.

[Exit Second Messenger]

These strong Egyptian fetters I must break,

Or lose myself in dotage.

Enter another Messenger with a letter

What are you?

THIRD MESSENGER  Fulvia thy wife is dead.

ANTONY                                 Where died she?

THIRD MESSENGER              In Sicyon.

Her length of sickness, with what else more serious

Importeth thee to know, this bears.

[He gives Antony the letter]

ANTONY                     Forbear me.

[Exit Third Messenger]                       (1.2.97-105)

 

Antony doesn’t get any time to think, because there’s another messenger immediately; in a smart dramaturgical variation, this messenger doesn’t bring a message as such, but merely the news that there’s yet another messenger waiting. But Antony’s already getting into the zone; he immediately wonders if this messenger brings news from Sicyon (the city in Greece, where he left his wife Fulvia), and indeed the news he’s being brought is that there is a messenger arrived from Sicyon, who is waiting to see Antony, apparently with some urgency: he stays upon your will, he’s awaiting your orders. Let him appear: let’s have the latest update then.

 

And then perhaps a surprising shift, at least surprising in its stark articulation, and the speed with which Antony has apparently arrived at this point: these strong Egyptian fetters I must break, or lose myself in dotage. I’ve got to get out of here, I’ve got to break the spell which is binding me to this place, paralyzing me, destroying my identity as a Roman man of action—or else lose myself in dotage. Dotage here is less the sense of doddering old age, although there’s a bit of an implication along those lines, than utterly foolish and obsessive love, doting madly and irresponsibly. (Cleopatra here, not even mentioned by name, becomes a Circe figure, enchanting Antony, taking away his power and agency and reason, his political will and military might, and making him her creature.) No time to elaborate though, because here’s the next messenger. What are you? who are you? he’s asking. (Is the suggestion that this isn’t the man that Antony’s expecting, even?) But the news is stark, no courteous formalities here. Fulvia thy wife is dead. Where died she? (An odd little recollection of Laertes’s response to the death of Ophelia in Hamlet, asking not, what happened? or, when? but, where??) In Sicyon. Everything you need to know, about her final illness and the rest, it’s all in this letter. No hanging around, no telling you kindly in my own words. (A contrast to the first messenger: this one is direct to a fault.) Forbear me. Leave me. Antony’s polite, still; this isn’t get out, leave me alone, quite.