(ENOBARBUS  Most worthy sir, you therein throw away

The absolute soldiership you have by land;

Distract your army, which doth most consist

Of war-marked footmen; leave unexecuted

Your own renowned knowledge; quite forgo

The way which promises assurance, and

Give up yourself merely to chance and hazard

From firm security.

ANTONY                     I’ll fight at sea.           (3.7.41-8)

Enobarbus tries again, stubborn, courteous, and persistent; one of the central notes of his character—his tendency to say what he thinks, his lack of interest in the performance of any kind of courtiership, his cheerful willingness to give offence—lands here. He’s not going to give up, and so now his appeal is to Antony’s own experience as a tactician and his ego. Most worthy sir, if you fight Caesar at sea you therein throw away the absolute soldiership you have by land. You simply jettison your greatest advantage over him, your mastery of your army, your own superiority as a general. None better on land. And you distract your army, here distract meaning divide them up—between the ships—breaking apart their customary battle formations. They’re mostly war-marked footmen, experienced infantry used to fighting together—you’d be preventing them from using their hard-won skills, putting them in unfamiliar situations in which they couldn’t do their job. And you leave unexecuted your own renowned knowledge: you’re simply throwing away all your experience as a general, as a strategist, without drawing on it in the slightest. You are turning your back on the way which promises assurance, the tactics which give you the best chance of success, and give yourself merely to chance and hazard from firm security. Fighting at sea, that’s an unknown; it’s a matter of luck, there are so many different forces at play. You could be entering into a fight confident in your own superior strength, your vast battlefield experience, the experience of your soldiers. Instead you’ll be relying on chance, the vagaries of wind and wave. You’d be a fool to fight Caesar at sea, cavalier to the point of sheer stupidity in forgoing all your many advantages.

But Antony can’t, won’t listen. I’ll fight at sea. (And what has Cleopatra been doing while this desperate conversation—desperate on Enobarbus’s part, at least, has been going on?)