POMPEY                     Know, then,

I came before you here a man prepared

To take this offer. But Mark Antony

Put me to some impatience. Though I lose

The praise of it by telling, you must know,

When Caesar and your brother were at blows,

Your mother came to Sicily, and did find

Her welcome friendly.

ANTONY                     I have heard it, Pompey,

And am well studied for a liberal thanks

Which I do owe you.

POMPEY                     Let me have your hand.

I did not think, sir, to have met you here.

ANTONY         The beds i’th’ East are soft; and thanks to you,

That called me timelier than my purpose hither;

For I have gained by’t.          (2.6.39-52)

 

Pompey can be more upfront now: know, then, I came before you here a man prepared to take this offer. I was always going to accept your terms, I know that and you know that; we’ve all to some extent been going through the motions. But seeing Antony here, that put me to some impatience, made me even more eager to do so. And now he addresses Antony directly: though I lose the praise of it by telling, though it would be better to keep this quiet, to be discreet and modest, you must know that when Caesar and your brother were at blows—clever Pompey, reminding Antony (and Caesar) of the enmity between their families in the past, and reminding Caesar (and Antony) that the latter’s loyalty might therefore be questionable—your mother came to Sicily, to my part of the world, my turf, and did find her welcome friendly. We gave her sanctuary there. I have heard it, Pompey (he almost certainly has, but Antony’s not going to give Pompey any advantage of surprise here even if he hasn’t) and am well studied for a liberal thanks which I do owe you. I’m entirely prepared to give you my most heartfelt thanks for that. Let me have your hand, replies Pompey, and so for a moment at least it’s the two of them, shaking hands, closing a deal and perhaps forming an alliance, shutting out Caesar and Lepidus.

 

Pompey pushes further with this in his next comment: I did not think, sir, to have met you here. The implication’s clear: I thought you couldn’t tear yourself away from Cleopatra, I thought you were off the scene for good. That’s what I’d been led to believe. Bit of a nudge and a wink, man-to-man. (Additional subtext: I’m well informed; I have spies everywhere.) Antony knows what’s going on here and presses his own advantage, flattering that man-to-man nudge, oh yes, the beds in the East are soft, know what I mean? It gets a laugh, usually. Oh yes indeed, I was detained, bit of a wrench. (Also, perhaps, the option of playing it down, closing it down, because after all he’s now married to Octavia: well, that’s all in the past, yes, Egypt’s lovely, moving right along.) But, thanks to you, that called me timelier than my purpose thither, that made my leaving Egypt all the more urgent because of the trouble you’ve been causing—well, I have gained by it. Is this a gallant, politic, reference to the marriage to Octavia, said with a significant glance at Caesar (and in some productions Octavia is present here) or a reference to other kinds of gain, his return to full participation in the triumvirate, for instance? Lots of possibilities—and always the certainty that Antony is wily, politically savvy, always keeping his options open, always looking for the next and most expedient thing.