Enter Antony and Cleopatra, with others [including Charmian]
ANTONY [calling] Eros, mine armour, Eros!
CLEOPATRA Sleep a little.
ANTONY No, my chuck. Eros, come, mine armour, Eros!
Enter Eros [carrying Antony’s armour]
ANTONY Come, good fellow, put thine iron on.
If fortune be not ours today, it is
Because we brave her. Come.
CLEOPATRA Nay, I’ll help, too.
What’s this for?
ANTONY Ah, let be, let be! Thou art
The armourer of my heart. False, false! This, this!
CLEOPATRA Sooth, la, I’ll help. Thus it must be. (4.4.1-8)
Bustle, movement; lighting might suggest the time of day: morning? still dark, even? Has anyone slept, even if they’ve been to bed? Antony and Cleopatra might have just got up, their attendants following, hurriedly; it wouldn’t be unexpected for Antony to be arming while it’s still dark, so there could be torches. Eros, mine armour, Eros! Time to get ready. Eros’s name resonates; he’s still a relatively new character. Sleep a little: come back to bed, says Cleopatra, and try to get some more sleep. No time, though: no, my chuck, darling, dear heart, the intimate, familiar partly jarring with the bustle, the calling for arms, but also so affectionate. Despite the context, it’s perhaps one of the most domestic, intimate moments so far; after all, Cleopatra’s always trying to get Antony back into bed. Hurry up, Eros (perhaps he’s been trying desperately to rest too): come, mine armour, Eros! And when he appears: come, good fellow (potentially intimate again; Eros is, like the servants in the earlier scene, a good fellow, not sirrah, for instance). Put thine iron on: it’s Antony’s armour, but Eros’s because he’s the armourer, it’s his responsibility. But the idea of putting on iron: it’s a chill, momentarily, in the scene. Time to get tough. If fortune be not ours today, if luck isn’t with us, if we don’t win, it’s because we defy her, because we’re not ready. Come. Eros seems to be a bit slow, perhaps just careful, deliberate—perhaps a little inexperienced, young; sleepy. Cleopatra wants to stay close, and also sees an opportunity for play: nay, I’ll help too! Let me have a go! And it can be flirty, seductive, or endearingly goofy (rather than annoying): what’s this for? The laugh’s even better if it’s a completely unidentifiable piece of armour, but there can’t be much, because there isn’t time, in theatrical terms, to put on much. A breastplate, perhaps some leg armour, gauntlets, sword belt. Ah, let be, let be! Don’t worry, stay out of it, don’t touch! Thou art the armourer of my heart! You’re the one who protects me, makes me brave! It can be knowingly soppy, a deflection, or suddenly sincere. Only a moment: false, false! No, not like that! Honestly! This, this! Look, Eros knows what he’s doing. It goes here. Sooth, la, I’ll help. Alright! Let me have a go. (She’s like a child.) Thus it must be. Look, there! All done. Haven’t I done well? Aren’t I the best armourer!