Enter Lepidus, Maecenas, and Agrippa

LEPIDUS         Trouble yourselves no further. Pray you, hasten

Your generals after.

AGRIPPA                     Sir, Mark Antony

Will e’en but kiss Octavia, and we’ll follow.

LEPIDUS         Till I shall see you in your soldier’s dress,

Which will become you both, farewell.

MAECENAS                                        We shall,

As I conceive the journey, be at the Mount

Before you, Lepidus.

LEPIDUS                                 Your way is shorter.

My purposes do draw me much about.

You’ll win two days upon me.

MAECENAS/AGRIPPA                       Sir, good success.

LEPIDUS                     Farewell.

Exeunt                                     (2.4.1-10)

 

A tiny scene, easily cut-able in terms of character and plot – so what’s it doing? Why’s it here? It makes sense most in terms of what follows it—a return to Egypt and Cleopatra—and so it’s a buffer between Antony saying that he will return to Egypt and a scene set in Egypt itself, which would be too obvious; it resists a straightforward transition between Antony and Cleopatra. It’s a scene of bustle, Romans Roman-ing, being organised, military, strategic, knowing exactly what they’re doing and having a clear sense of how it’ll play out. There’s a campaign to be fought, a battle to be won—against Pompey (remember him?) (Or, these are the boring little men, just doing what they’re told, obeying orders—Antony’s orders—Roman automata.) It reinforces the rhythm of Rome, its precise, orderly tempo (at least on the surface) in comparison with the more languorous tempo of Egypt. And it gives Lepidus a bit of scope as a character, and as an actor, to assert himself.

 

Lepidus is first given a moment of being in charge, urging haste (or just being fussy and anxious) as the scene begins mid conversation: trouble yourselves no further. Pray you, hasten your generals after. Get on with it; enough talk, time for action, hurry. Agrippa perhaps rolls his eyes, ok, we’re just doing the politics, SIR, Mark Antony will e’en but kiss Octavia and we’ll follow. As soon as we see the marriage concluded (suggesting their enduring scepticism as to whether it’ll go ahead?) we’re out of here, we’ll be there. Lepidus perhaps recoils a bit from the push-back with a back-handed compliment: till I shall see you in your soldier’s dress, which will become you both, farewell. Alright then, goodbye for now, until I see you in uniform, then—which you’re both going to look fabulous in, by the way. (Although he could be being ironic: get yourselves sorted, get out of your designer suits and put your money where your mouth is.) Maecenas needles back, possibly: well, even if we don’t leave until after the wedding, we shall, as I conceive the journey (no, I’m not going to follow the directions you’ve just given me exhaustively), be at the Mount before you, Lepidus. (Because we’ve got sat-nav and better wheels.) (Mount Misena is where Pompey is.) Your way is shorter (Lepidus is smooth and no fool, at least not all the time). My purposes do draw me much about—I’ve got a lot to do along the way, so I’ll take longer, obviously; I have responsibilities, I’m a busy man, entrusted with important things. You’ll win two days upon me, because, really, you don’t have anything else to do except get yourselves there, do you? You’ve only got one job. Sir, good success—if in doubt, retreat into politeness and speaking in unison, decide Maecenas and Agrippa, Lepidus not being quite the butt and push-over they were expecting. Farewell, says Lepidus. Last word.