ANTONY         To let a fellow that will take rewards

And say ‘God quite you’ be familiar with

My playfellow your hand, this kingly seal

And plighter of high hearts! O that I were

Upon the hill of Basan to outroar

The hornèd herd! For I have savage cause,

And to proclaim it civilly were like

A haltered neck which does the hangman thank

For being yare about him.    (3.13.123-131)

Jealousy, that’s what it’s actually about, possessiveness—and vulnerability, and hurt, and insecurity. How could you? says Antony, coming to the point. How could you let—him—so much as kiss your hand? To let a fellow that will take rewards and say ‘God quite you’, smarmy and insinuating, low-born and flattering, ‘thank you, ma’am’—how could you let that grease-ball be familiar with my playfellow your hand, this kingly seal and plighter of high hearts! How could you let him come near you, let alone touch you? that hand of yours, it’s mine. And here, surely, Antony can take Cleopatra’s hand; playfellow is oddly childlike, the sting’s starting to go out of his insults (thank goodness, although the slurs remain, hanging in the air)—your hand in my hand, the unspoken, understood contract between us, sealed with the clasp of our hands, joining us, plighting our troth as firmly and finally as the oaths we have never sworn, and binding our noble hearts and lives together? How could you? (Does she start to soothe him like a child, shush, calm down. Or does she hold her ground, stand on her dignity?) O that I were upon the hill of Basan to outroar the horned herd! I would roar like a bull, yes, but also, you’ve given me horns, made me cuckold, betrayed me. (Does Antony start to realise that he’s sounding a bit silly now, blowing this so far out of proportion?) For I have savage cause (debatable—although it did sound as if Cleopatra was actually planning to betray him—but he’s not responding to that, interestingly) and to proclaim it civilly, take it lying down, saying, politely, excuse me, do you mind, sorry about this—that’d be like a haltered neck, someone about to be hanged, with the noose already around their neck (as was the case with people executed in early modern England, who would be taken to the gallows, sometimes in a cart, in such a state) thanking the hangman for being yare about him, making it quick.