ANTONY Be it art or hap,
He hath spoken true. The very dice obey him,
And in our sports my better cunning faints
Under his chance. If we draw lots, he speeds.
His cocks do win the battle still of mine
When it is all to nought, and his quails ever
Beat mine, inhooped, at odds. I will to Egypt;
And though I make this marriage for my peace,
I’th’ East my pleasure lies.
[Enter Ventidius]
O, come, Ventidius
You must to Parthia, your commission’s ready.
Follow me, and receive’t.
Exeunt (2.3.30-40)
Be it art or hap, his own skill and power or else just good luck, this soothsayer hath spoken true, says Antony. He understands; he’s totally got the dynamic between me and Caesar, and the uncanny way in which Caesar always beats me. The very dice obey him, when we’re playing. Caesar always wins, even in games of pure chance. And in our sports my better cunning faints under his chance. Whenever we’re competing against each other in any way, even though I’m craftier, better at strategy, more skilful, better prepared—it always goes his way. He’s just luckier. If we draw lots, he speeds; he wins every coin-toss. His cocks do win the battle still of mine (here, Antony could be referring either to the fighting cocks that they personally own and train, or simply that they bet on; either is possible), and his quails (fighting quails are a thing, who knew?) ever beat mine, inhooped, at odds. They fight in a circle or ring, inhooped—and even when the odds are entirely favourable to me, his birds always win. This passage is only lightly adapted from Plutarch, but its activities, especially the gambling, would be entirely familiar to a Jacobean audience, especially its young men, especially those with a military background. What comes through here is Antony’s obsessive competitiveness, particularly with Caesar, and also his superstitious nature. He’s going to keep trying to get one over Caesar, even as he believes, on some level, that he never will.
But there’s also a decision and a confirmation. I will to Egypt, back to Cleopatra, just as Enobarbus said I would. And though I make this marriage for my peace, both to buy some breathing space personally and because it’s politically expedient, the strategically savvy thing to do, i’th’ East my pleasure lies. Pleasure, not love, although that not to say that love isn’t meant, but the syntax suggests that peace and pleasure are antithetical (as are marriage and pleasure, ironically reinforced by the assonance on peace and East). Whatever grand passion Antony has with Cleopatra, it’s not peaceful, and returning it will not further peace’s cause. Then, snap, back to the efficient general, entirely in control, shutting down this little moment of self-revelation: O come, Ventidius you must to Parthia—Antony’s in charge, decisive—your commission’s ready (I had this planned all along, that you would take command of the forces there on my behalf)—follow me (I’m the leader) and receive it.