ENOBARBUS              From the barge

A strange invisible perfume hits the sense

Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast

Her people out upon her, and Antony,

Enthroned i’th’ market-place, did sit alone,

Whistling to th’air, which but for vacancy

Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too,

And made a gap in nature.

AGRIPPA                                 Rare Egyptian!           (2.2.210-217)

Enobarbus’s words have acted like that strange invisible perfume wafting from the barge, bewitching the hearers and enchanting all their senses; the actual mention of perfume gives the passage an even more heady quality, intoxicating and immersive (and magical: all perfume is invisible, but this is extra invisible, despite its potent effects). Even the adjacent wharfs, the riverbanks, are imagined as being affected by it, hit, overcome; everything goes a bit woozy. And the city has emptied out, cast her people out upon her, crowds streaming towards the river to see, to experience this vision—and so Antony, enthroned in the market-place, all dressed up in the forum, did sit alone, twiddling his thumbs and whistling to the air (it’s a lovely picture, of a self-conscious schoolboy). Even the airitself would have gone to gaze on Cleopatra too, but for vacancy; that would leave an actual vacuum, and made a gap in nature. Only the laws of physics are immune to Cleopatra’s extraordinary charms, it seems. Rare Egyptian! interjects Agrippa again, reminding the hearers of Cleopatra’s exoticism, her otherness, just—WOW.