CW: discussion of suicide

Enter Eros

EROS               What would my lord?

ANTONY                                 Since Cleopatra died

I have lived in such dishonour that the gods

Detest my baseness. I, that with my sword

Quartered the world, and o’er green Neptune’s back

With ships made cities, condemn myself to lack

The courage of a woman; less noble mind

Than she which by her death our Caesar tells

‘I am conqueror of myself.’  (4.15.55-62)

Eros is so polite, so normal: how can I help? What can I do for you? He knows how desperate Antony is; he can be imagined as having overheard at least some of what he’s said—and still, what would my lord? Antony perhaps doesn’t engage, although he could address himself to Eros directly; he’s mostly thinking out loud. Since Cleopatra died I have lived in such dishonour that the gods detest my baseness. It’s a matter of minutes since Antony heard of Cleopatra’s apparent death, but it’s changed everything, and Antony can’t stand himself a moment longer: I disgust myself, I hate myself; I’ve betrayed everything I have lived by, lost my reputation, my honour, and the gods despise me for it; I’ve lost their favour too. The man I used to be! I, that with my sword quartered the world! I was a conqueror; I carved up the world, I made the empire. I had such fleets of ships at my command that o’er green Neptune’s back with ships I made cities, as if I had built across the waves, not merely sailed on it. Shall I condemn myself even more for lacking the courage of a woman? for not being able to follow Cleopatra’s example? for not having the guts to kill myself? Am I really going to demonstrate a less noble mind than she which by her death our Caesar tells ‘I am conqueror of myself’? Cleopatra’s shown me what to do; she has died undefeated, by her own hand, defying Caesar, unconquered. Surely I am capable of doing the same?