ANTONY Well, well,
We shall thrive now. Seest thou, my good fellow?
Go put on thy defences.
EROS Briefly, sir.
CLEOPATRA Is not this buckled well?
ANTONY Rarely, rarely.
He that unbuckles this, till we do please
To doff’t for our repose, shall hear a storm.
Thou fumblest, Eros, and my queen’s a squire
More tight at this than thou. Dispatch. O, love,
That thou couldst see my wars today, and knew’st
The royal occupation! Thou shouldst see
A workman in’t. (4.4.8-18)
Well, well—Antony indulges her—yes, that’s it, that’s better. We shall thrive now: everything’s going to be alright; of course we’re going to win, now that you’ve done this! Seest thou, my good fellow? Look, Eros, Cleopatra’s got it right. (Antony could be grumpy, but I think not; it’s playful, indulgent of her rather than an admonition of him.) Go put on thy defences: you really need to go and put on your own armour now. Briefly, sir; yes, in a minute. (Potential for comedy if Eros is in fact undoing the all fastenings that Cleopatra has buckled up, so as to do them properly.) Is not this buckled well? she asks. It could be a questioning accusation, if Eros is redoing, but also simply the smug unconcern of a child, look at me, haven’t I done well, isn’t mine best, don’t you like me best? (you do, don’t you.) Rarely, rarely! Yes, it’s absolutely splendid, the best buckling, yes you are my favourite. He that unbuckles this, anyone that tries to take it off me—and logically it might be his sword-belt that Cleopatra’s buckled?—till we do please to doff’t for our repose, shall hear a storm. I’m not having anyone remove my sword until it’s bedtime, or at least time to rest—anyone tries to do that, I’ll give them hell. Antony is in swaggering, imperious good form, showing off to Cleopatra (perhaps reassuring her?) as well as indulging her. Thou fumblest, Eros—Eros is nervous, he knows what the odds are in this battle, and also all eyes are on him and Antony’s not making it easy; neither is Cleopatra—and my queen’s a squire more tight at this than thou. You’re making a mess of it! She’s really good, a born squire—and squire is chivalric, as if Antony is off to joust for his lady’s favour, rather than leading a nervous, much diminished army against Caesar’s well-oiled military machine. Indulge, indulge. But strategy in it too: keep Cleopatra flattered and content and she is less likely to make a scene and really get in the way, or take up time and energy. Dispatch. Get on with it, Eros! Antony’s finding all of this quite a turn on, actually, and Cleopatra almost certainly is too: o, love, that thou couldst see my wars today, and knew’st the royal occupation! If only you could see me in battle, plying my trade, the noblest that there is. Thou shouldst see a workman in’t, a real expert, a true craftsman. I’m damn good at my job, and I wish you could see me in action…