Enter Antony, Caesar, and Octavia between them

ANTONY         The world and my great office will sometimes

Divide me from your bosom.

OCTAVIA                                All which time,

Before the gods my knee shall bow my prayers

To them for you.

ANTONY         [to Caesar] Good night, sir.— My Octavia,

Read not my blemishes in the world’s report.

I have not kept my square, but that to come

Shall all be done by th’ rule. Good night, dear lady.

OCTAVIA        Good night, sir.

CAESAR                                  Good night.

[Exeunt Caesar and Octavia]              (2.3.1-9)

Well, no time has been wasted, it seems—and the marriage with Octavia is apparently going to happen, despite Enobarbus’s doubts and reservations. Antony is, after all, the wiliest of politicians, and he’s already being canny in what is, presumably, his first meeting with Octavia, with her brother Caesar hanging on every word. The world and my great office will sometimes divide me from your bosom. It’s work, see, pressure, responsibility: sometimes I have to work late at the office, really late, and go on these work trips too. I won’t always be able to come home to you. I’m very busy and important. Antony doesn’t come out of this little exchange very well, although Octavia doesn’t have to be a dupe or an innocent; her response—all which time, before the gods my knee shall bow my prayers to them for you—can be knowing, even ironic: every moment you’re away, I’ll be praying for you! But perhaps it’s more powerful if it’s full of genuine good will and devotion. Good night, sir. Antony doesn’t answer Octavia, perhaps it’s too much even for him to respond to this apparent protestation of loyal support in good faith, or he can be saying a pointed piss off to his future brother-in-law, look, can’t I even have a moment with My New Fiancée in private, just the two of us? And a note of embarrassment, he knows he’s on thin ice, and that Octavia has surely Heard Things: look, my Octavia, read not my blemishes in the world’s report. Don’t believe everything you hear about me, all the tittle-tattle and gossip about me and my peccadilloes. I have not kept my square; ok, I’ve not always been on the straight and narrow, behaved in the best possible way. But from now on, that to come, shall all be done by th’ rule. I’ll be a changed man, a reformed character. What you see is what you get. (Does even Antony believe this? Perhaps. He needs to be liked; he needs to believe in his own virtue. Also, he can’t resist the ladies.) Good night, dear lady; he can play it embarrassed, bashful, polite, even genuinely, surprisingly affectionate, recognising Octavia’s virtue and responding to her warm protestations. Good night, sir, she says, politely. Innocent and trusting, or dignified and knowing, even ironically echoing Antony’s words to Caesar? Lots of choices, even going in for a kiss. But Caesar’s still there, as this soon-to-be-married couple size each other up, play whatever subtexts they decide on. Good night, Caesar says, determinedly, ending this tricky little encounter on his terms, not Antony’s, and off he goes with his sister; they’re not married yet, and he’s not taking any chances.