POMPEY         I know thee now. How far’st thou, soldier?

ENOBARBUS                                                  Well,

And well am like to do, for I perceive

Four feasts are toward.

POMPEY                                 Let me shake thy hand.

I never hated thee. I have seen thee fight

When I have envied thy behaviour.

ENOBARBUS              Sir,

I never loved you much, but I ha’ praised ye

When you have well deserved ten times as much

As I have said you did.

POMPEY                     Enjoy thy plainness. It nothing ill becomes thee.

Aboard my galley I invite you all.

Will you lead, lords?

CAESAR, ANTONY and LEPIDUS      Show’s the way, sir.

POMPEY         Come.

Exeunt. Manent Enobarbus and Menas          (2.6.73-83)

 

I know thee now, says Pompey to Enobarbus, oh gawd, it’s you again, and he relaxes, having been about to tear a strip off this presumptuous soldier, who’s somehow butted into the conversation between the leaders. How far’st thou, soldier? How are you doing, dude? Yeah, I’m good, mate, well, replies Enobarbus, playing up his casual, good-time, no standing on ceremony man-about-mess (we know he’s much more complex than that, but it’s a persona he drops into easily, and to excellent dramatic and political effect), and well am like to do, and I’m only going to get better, continue to do well for myself, because I perceive four feasts are toward. With Lepidus, Antony, Caesar and Pompey all promising to feast each other, there are four parties in the offing, and Enobarbus is proposing to make the most of each and every one of them. Let me shake thy hand, says Pompey, perhaps seizing this opportunity to get down with the men, I never hated thee, even though you’re squarely on Antony’s side. I have seen thee fight when I have envied thy behaviour. I know you’re good value in battle, a brave and honourable soldier. (Another unseen side to Enobarbus, if this is more than mere flattery.) Typically, Enobarbus deflects, turns the compliment to get a laugh by talking back to Pompey, trying his luck a bit: sir, I never loved you much (he’s not going to pretend they’re mates, just for the sake of it) but I have praised ye when you have well deserved ten times as much as I have said you did. I’ve been known to say you’re OK, up to a point, when you’ve done something spectacular. Enjoy thy plainness, says Pompey, don’t ever stop saying what you think in favour of pretty speeches and empty courtesy and compliments (a glance, perhaps, at the smoother Romans), it nothing ill becomes thee. It suits you to speak your mind, and you get away with it. And he turns to the others: aboard my galley I invite you all. Party time! Will you lead, lords? Walk this way. Show us the way, sir, Caesar, Antony and Lepidus respond, and, with Pompey in the lead—come, he says—they’re off. But the scene doesn’t end there, as might be expected, it’s not going to be allowed to conclude with these shows of amity and union. The leaders are gone: what do their soldiers and allies think about this turn of events?