POMPEY                     Menas, I did not think

This amorous surfeiter would have donned his helm

For such a petty war. His soldiership

Is twice the other twain. 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.

MENAS                       I cannot hope

Caesar and Antony shall well greet together.

His wife that’s dead did trespasses to Caesar,

His brother warred upon him, although, I think,

Not moved by Antony.          (2.1.32-42)

Well well, says Pompey, I did not see that coming. I did not think this amorous surfeiter, this wallower in pleasure, worn out by too much sex—Antony—would have put on his helmet, donned his helm, got back into uniform for such a petty war, over such a silly quarrel. (Coming from Pompey, who started it, that’s quite an admission; he might be being ironic: surely even this actual civil war isn’t enough to get Antony the lover back on manoeuvres?!) Another frank admission: his soldiership is twice the other twain. Antony’s a far better warrior, and general, than Octavius Caesar, let alone Lepidus. But let us rear the higher our opinion—it’s even better for our reputation and popularity (and is Pompey adopting a royal plural here? not impossibly)—that our stirring, the unrest and disruption that we’re causing, is apparently enough to pluck from the lap of Egypt’s widow (that is, the widow of the pharaoh, named for his land—an entirely dismissive underestimation of Cleopatra) the ne’er lust-wearied Antony. We’re actually worth getting out of bed for! Pompey’s still obsessed with sex, returning again to a fantasy of Antony’s relationship with Cleopatra, his (and her) insatiability, at it all the time. (There’s a textual quibble here: is Antony well-nigh exhausted by Cleopatra’s sexual demands—near lust-wearied—or untiring, never lust-wearied?) At any rate, Pompey flatters himself: Antony’s just going to have to put his back into something else for a bit.

Menas is still sceptical, and hence positive, about the scenario that’s brewing, though. I cannot hope Caesar and Antony shall well greet together. They’re not going to get on, they’re not going to be able to agree a course of action. After all—Menas the pirate is well-informed and politically savvy, again—Antony’s wife that’s dead (Fulvia) did trespasses to Caesar; she opposed him, wronged him, offended him, and Antony’s brother too, Lucius—he actually warred upon Caesar, fought against him, although (to be fair) not, I think, at Antony’s instigation. Interesting times, says Menas the pirate, far better at seeing the big picture than Pompey.