CLEOPATRA O, my lord, my lord,
Forgive my fearful sails! I little thought
You would have followed.
ANTONY Egypt, thou knew’st too well
My heart was to thy rudder tied by th’ strings,
And thou shouldst tow me after. O’er my spirit
Thy full supremacy thou knew’st, and that
Thy beck might from the bidding of the gods
Command me.
CLEOPATRA O, my pardon! (3.11.54-61)
No wit, no sharp reproach, no opening salvo in a quarrel of recriminations and blame: o, my lord, my lord, forgive my fearful sails! It was my fault, all my fault, fleeing from the fight, hoisting sails and getting out of there. I little thought you would have followed. (I thought you were too clever, too brave, too experienced; I didn’t think I mattered to you that much. I didn’t think you loved me that much.) The reply is heavy, weary, all too honest: Egypt, thou knew’st too well my heart was to thy rudder tied by th’ strings, and thou shouldst tow me after. You’ve only ever had to whistle. Look at how I’ve come back and back. I follow your every move, I can’t take my eyes off you. I am your creature, utterly in your thrall. I’m bound to you; you have my heart and where you go—I must follow. We’re one flesh. (Of course it can be played in a tone of bitter recrimination, you fool, of course I followed you, I can’t help it, you’ve bewitched me. But I prefer the ruefully sentimental version.) And—there might be a touch of asperity—o’er my spirit thy full supremacy thou knew’st. You knew that. You knew I’d follow you, that you have always had me in your power. Thy beck might from the bidding of the gods command me, your slightest nod, a raised eyebrow, a look, the smallest thing, the most trivial request—if I were undertaking a god-given mission, under orders, under urgency, I’d give it all up to be there to do your will. Your smallest, smallest wish is my command, and everything else can go hang. O, my pardon! I didn’t think, it was my fault, forgive me. But also, I didn’t realise. I’ve never been able to believe that you loved me enough. I’m sorry.