ANTONY         ’Tis spoken well.

Were we before our armies, and to fight,

I should do thus.

[Antony and Caesar embrace.] Flourish

CAESAR                      Welcome to Rome.

ANTONY         Thank you.

CAESAR          Sit.

ANTONY         Sit, sir.

CAESAR          Nay then.

[They sit]

ANTONY         I learn you take things ill which are not so,

Or being, concern you not.

CAESAR          I must be laughed at

If or for nothing or a little I

Should say myself offended, and with you

Chiefly i’th’ world; more laughed at that I should

Once name you derogately, when to sound your name

It not concernèd me.             (2.2.25-35)

 

The two-dogs-sniffing-eachother dynamic continues, to the point of ridiculousness, in a series of courteous one-upmanship moves, assertions of status and dominance. Antony seizes it first by agreeing with Lepidus, oh, ’tis spoken well, of course we’re going to behave like the gentlemen we are. Even if we were standing here at the heads of our armies (point out, implicitly, that they both have armies at their command) and to fight, if it had reached that point of open warfare (implicitly: it could) I should do thus. Big dominance move, going in for a hug, perhaps catching chilly Caesar off-guard with physical intimacy. One-nil to Antony, and a trumpet flourish (This little episode can be very funny—an added and important dimension, to have the audience laughing at these apparently great men and their games.) (The stage direction Antony and Caesar embrace is editorial, though, and editors differ: Antony’s thus could suggest embracing Lepidus rather than Caesar, or simply Antony calling for the flourish. I like the suggestion that Antony goes in for a manly hug with Caesar, though, it makes sense in this atmosphere of masculine competition and status games, as well as Antony’s physical easiness and presence in comparison with Caesar’s don’t touch me vibe.)

 

Welcome to Rome, says Caesar, stating the entirely obvious (there can be another laugh) but it’s a status move again; Antony’s as Roman as he is, and they’re equals, although Antony is the older man. So Antony’s thank you can have a bit of an edge to it, who are you to welcome me to my birthright, my own city then? Then Caesar, perhaps awkwardly, really gets it wrong, inviting Antony to sit, as he’d do in extending courtesy to a subordinate. Sit, sir, Antony’s reply, is probably him ironically and pointedly extending the same courtesy back to Caesar, asserting his status in turn and the fact that they are equals, but the temptation (especially in a modern dress production) is to go for a bigger laugh with Antony showing his cards much more plainly, sit, sir as in, call me sir, you insolent boy. Caesar knows he’s got it wrong and sort of capitulates, nay, then. And they sit down, together, Caesar perhaps awkwardly, Antony at his ease or seeming to be, Lepidus perhaps sitting too, resignedly, ignored by the other two; two-nil, more or less, to Antony now.

 

Antony continues to press his advantage, with his smooth, pointed opener: I learn you take things ill which are not so, or being, concern you not. You’ve been sticking your nose into other people’s business, willfully misinterpreting me and my actions, putting the worst possible gloss on things. Butt out, puppy, and mind your own business. Caesar has regained some of his composure and replies with the kind of knotty, stiff response that takes a bit of working out, and so prevents an immediate angry comeback. (And, sitting down, the physical differences between the two men can be neutralized; they are, at least superficially, more equal.) Well, I must be laughed at, properly mocked and ridiculed, if I’ve been taking offence for no reason or merely at trivial things, say myself offended, and above all by you. (I have good cause; I’m not making things up and blowing it out of proportion, he’s saying.) Then he does manage to land a blow: and I should be mocked even more at that I should once name you derogately, mention you in negative terms when actually to sound your name it not concerned me. Because actually I haven’t been talking about you at all, or at least only when I absolutely have to. (The audience knows differently, of course, that Caesar’s obsessed with Antony and what he’s been up to.) Two-one to Antony, still, but Caesar’s got a bit of push back.