Enter Antony

ANTONY                                 All is lost.

This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me.

My fleet hath yielded to the foe, and yonder

They cast their caps up, and carouse together

Like friends long lost. Triple-turned whore! ’Tis thou

Hast sold me to this novice, and my heart

Makes only wars on thee. Bid them all fly;

For when I am revenged upon my charm,

I have done all. Bid them all fly. Be gone.

[Exit Scarus]   (4.13.9-17)

Antony’s reappearance confirms Scarus’s words, both concerning the battle and Antony’s own state of mind: he’s all over the place in his mood and his actions, and he’s now enraged and despairing: all is lost, Antony says, judging by what he’s seen of the purported sea battle. This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me: he’s blaming Cleopatra, again, for the conduct of her ships, and rather than incompetence or cowardice (as at Actium) he now diagnoses treachery. My fleet hath yielded to the foe, given themselves up without even the pretense of a fight—it was all a sham—because now, yonder they cast their caps up, and carouse together like friends long lost. The soldiers and sailors are celebrating together; they’ve been on the same side all along; he perhaps imagines them mocking him together. (The evocation of the former enemies carousing together recalls Antony’s own party with Pompey.) Triple-turned whore! It’s all Cleopatra’s fault—and he now imagines that she’s turned her attentions personally to Caesar; she’s triple-turned because she’s been the lover of Julius Caesar, Gnaeus Pompey (Pompey’s father), and Antony himself. Cleopatra’s imagined inconstancy shapes and echoes Antony’s fortunes (and she becomes a version of Fortune herself, fickle)—but he’s also lashing out, cursing her—and he can only imagine that it’s personal, that it’s not a failure of strategy or numbers on his part. ’Tis thou has sold me to this novice, to Caesar (whom Antony persists in imagining as an inexperienced boy, not a serious opponent) and therefore my heart makes only wars on thee. That’s all I care about now, your betrayal—I don’t care about this battle, or the war. Bid them all fly, he tells Scarus; dismiss the troops, tell them to run and save themselves (or go over to Caesar). For when I am revenged upon my charm, when I’ve dealt with that enchantress, that witch, Cleopatra, I have done all; I’m done, it’s over. Bid them all fly! Go on, tell them to get out. And you too. Be gone.