ANTONY My precious queen, forbear,
And give true evidence to his love, which stands
An honourable trial.
CLEOPATRA So Fulvia told me.
I prithee turn aside and weep for her,
Then bid adieu to me, and say the tears
Belong to Egypt. Good now, play one scene
Of excellent dissembling, and let it look
Like perfect honour.
ANTONY You’ll heat my blood. No more! (1.3.73-80)
It can be give over, leave it out, but also more heartfelt pleading: my precious queen, forbear, just listen, hear me out, I’m trying to explain, and also swearing that I’m yours and true. Give true evidence to his love, which stands an honourable trial. Believe me, give proper credence and weight to my love, which will withstand this and every kind of testing. No good: so Fulvia told me. Cleopatra’s not necessarily suggesting that she’s heard directly from Fulvia just how much Antony’s vows of fidelity are worth—although that can be the impression (we’ve been talking about you behind your back, comparing notes, however unlikely that might seem)—but rather, well, I can see from how you’re talking about her, how you’ve treated her just how honourable you are. So go ahead, Cleopatra says, turn aside and weep for her. Mourn away, you model of uxoriousness and marital devotion, you. Then turn around and bid adieu to me, the same tears still in your eyes as you say farewell, and say that those tears are shed for Egypt, for me. Go on, do it, right here and right now: play one scene of excellent dissembling, you hypocrite, you deceiver (you actor) and let it look like perfect honour—if honour’s what you want to invoke. Are you sure about that? Honourable? You? (Is there an echo here of Antony’s own great speech, destroying Brutus’s claim to be an honourable man in Julius Caesar? Not impossibly?)
You’ll heat my blood. No more! Actually there are multiple ways of punctuating and interpreting Antony’s reply. You’ll heat my blood. No more! You’re making me angry, and you don’t want to make me angry. That’s enough. Or, alternatively, you’ll heat my blood no more. I’m not listening to this, I’m leaving you, and I won’t allow you to inflame my passions (of whatever kind) any longer.
Impasse? Has Cleopatra gone too far this time?