MENAS           We looked not for Mark Antony here. Pray you, is he married to Cleopatra?

ENOBARBUS  Caesar’s sister is called Octavia.

MENAS           True, sir. She was the wife of Caius Marcellus.

ENOBARBUS  But she is now the wife of Marcus Antonius.

MENAS           Pray ye, sir?

ENOBARBUS  ’Tis true.

MENAS           Then is Caesar and he for ever knit together.

ENOBARBUS  If I were bound to divine of this unity I would not prophesy so.

MENAS           I think the policy of that purpose made more in the marriage than the love of the parties.

ENOBARBUS  I think so, too. But you shall find the band that seems to tie their friendship together will be the very strangler of their amity.            (2.6.106-119)

Menas now changes tack slightly, to a topic that’s becoming familiar among the play’s Roman (and other) men: he wants to know about Cleopatra, but he’s approaching the subject obliquely, perhaps a bit embarrassed by his fascination, his prurience. We looked not for Mark Antony here; didn’t expect to see him. Pray you, is he married to Cleopatra? And there might be emphasis on married, the implication being, or is it just a raging affair? or, is it not that serious, how settled is he in Egypt, what are his ties there? Fascination, either way. Enobarbus is brilliant in his deflection here; he doesn’t want to talk about Cleopatra, and he also knows (at this stage better than Menas) what’s really at stake. Caesar’s sister is called Octavia. Menas doesn’t twig, he’s still thinking about Cleopatra, hoping he’s going to get some juicy details. Yes yes, true, sir, I know. She was the wife of Caius Marcellus. But who cares about her? But now she is the wife of Marcus Antonius. You can almost hear Enobarbus’s smugness, not least in the neatness of his phrasing; here’s something that Menas doesn’t know. Pray ye, sir? What? (or, even, WTAF?) replies Menas. Oh yes, says Enobarbus, smugly, ’tis true. I KNOW.

To his credit, Menas immediately grasps what this means: then is Caesar and he for ever knit together. That’s what’s going on, that changes everything. Enobarbus is realistic, and still enjoying his privileged information, with nicely pompous phrasing, perhaps a touch of camp: ooooo, do we really think so? if I were bound to divine of this union I would not prophesy so. I wouldn’t bet on it, no, if I had to make a prediction about the future of this marriage. I think the policy of that purpose made more in the marriage than the love of the parties, says Menas; well, he’s grasped the point, but it’s hardly a subtle one. This is all about the politics, about strategy! It’s not about love at all! (This pirate is a romantic!) I think so too, replies Enobarbus, possibly with an eye-roll: noooo, you reckon? But you shall find the band that seems to tie their friendship together will be the very strangler of their amity—and this is the interesting bit, not least because it indicates Enobarbus’s political sharpness, and his cynicism. The very thing, the band (or bond) that seems to unite them (that is, Caesar and Antony) will be the thing that frustrates and ends their alliance. (The extremity of strangler here is striking, it’s a violent image.) What can he be getting at?