Enter Antony with Attendants

ANTONY         Hark, the land bids me tread no more upon’t,

It is ashamed to bear me. Friends, come hither.

I am so lated in the world that I

Have lost my way for ever. I have a ship

Laden with gold. Take that, divide it, fly,

And make your peace with Caesar.

ATTENDANTS                       Fly? Not we.               (3.11.1-6)

Following immediately on from the discussion between Scarus, Canidius and Enobarbus in the previous scene about Antony’s disastrous actions at Actium, whether it’s all over, whether they should cut their losses and go over to Caesar now, here’s Antony himself, and in a terrible state. That the attendants aren’t identified—anonymous servants, ordinary soldiers—emphasises that his closest lieutenants were those in the previous scene, now on the point of abandoning him. And Antony is full of shame; he might stagger or fall or even throw himself to the ground, suggesting that he’s only just come ashore and is not yet accustomed to the lack of the ship’s motion beneath his feet, that he’s exhausted, overcome. He interprets this staggering or this fall morally: hark, the land bids me tread no more upon’t, it is ashamed to bear me. I can’t even stand upright any longer, I’ve messed things up so badly. I’m a disgrace. His attendants are watching, waiting, perhaps from some way off, as he has to say to them—the friends is conciliatory, humble—come hither. This is how things are now. I am so lated in the world that I have lost my way for ever. The image is of nightfall, the loss of sunlight, daylight, clarity: the play has passed its noon and this is a conceit that will return again and again from this point onwards. From now on I’m going to be stumbling around in the dark, aimless, pointless, lost; benighted. Antony’s in a bad way, and he wants his men to leave him. I have a ship laden with gold (of course he does). Take that, divide it, fly, and make your peace with Caesar. With money you’ll be able to buy your way into his favour, assure him of your loyalty, as well as having some reward for your service to me. Save yourselves; you can’t save me. Fly? Not we. Antony still commands loyalty from his men, it seems, perhaps the ones for whom strategy and game-plan and politicking mean less than his hard-won reputation as a battlefield leader, his charisma as a fighter. To them he’s still Antony.