Enter Antony, Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Charmian, Iras, with others

ANTONY         He will not fight with me, Domitius?

ENOBARBUS  No.

ANTONY                                 Why should he not?

ENOBARBUS  He thinks, being twenty times of better fortune,

He is twenty men to one.

ANTONY                                 Tomorrow, soldier,

By sea and land I’ll fight. Or I will live

Or bathe my dying honour in the blood

Shall make it live again. Woot thou fight well?

ENOBARBUS  I’ll strike, and cry ‘Take all!’

ANTONY                                             Well said.       (4.2.1-8)

Antony is incredulous; this is an ongoing conversation: he will not fight with me, Domitius? He is Caesar, Domitius is Enobarbus, his first name, apparently; for Antony to use it is informal and friendly (another contrast with Caesar’s style) but it is also metrically easier than Enobarbus. The point is, though, no, Caesar’s refused the challenge to single combat. Why should he not? What reasons is he giving, if any? Enobarbus isn’t going to speculate, perhaps sparing Antony a little (because Caesar is young and fit and Antony isn’t, not anymore; because Caesar has a massive advantage and he’d be a fool to throw it away on something as inherently chancy as single combat). He thinks, being twenty times of better fortune, he is twenty men to one. Caesar knows that he’s on a lucky streak, and certainly more than you; he thinks he’s invincible on the battle field through sheer force of numbers. (And he’s right.) Whatever, Enobarbus can make it sound like a joke, can take the sting out of it. Antony’s full of bravado (and, presumably, drink) as well as stoic acceptance: tomorrow, soldier, by sea and land I’ll fight. I’ll throw everything at it, all my ships and all my men. Or I will live or bathe my dying honour in the blood shall make it live again. Either I live, and triumph, or else, if I die, at least I’ll go down fighting, having restored my honour, revived it with the blood of my foes. (Antony having a little proto-Coriolanus moment.) Better to die on your feet than live on your knees, huh? Woot thou fight well? What about you, mate? Are you going all in, fight to the death? Enobarbus has to play along: I’ll strike—surely a gesture there—and cry ‘Take all!’ Here goes nothing, in for a penny, do or die. Well said.