Enter Soothsayer
ANTONY Now, sirrah. You do wish yourself in Egypt?
SOOTHSAYER Would I had never come from thence, nor you
Gone thither.
ANTONY If you can, your reason?
SOOTHSAYER I see it in my motion, have it not in my tongue.
But yet hie you again to Egypt.
ANTONY Say to me
Whose fortunes shall rise higher: Caesar’s or mine?
SOOTHSAYER Caesar’s. Therefore, O Antony, stay not by his side.
Thy daemon, that thy spirit which keeps thee, is
Noble, courageous, high, unmatchable,
Where Caesar’s is not. But near him thy angel
Becomes afeard, as being o’erpowered. Therefore
Make space enough between you. (2.3.10-21)
Bit weird, this, the soothsayer popping up in Rome. No matter, and the weirdness is almost knowingly pointed out by Antony with his greeting: now, sirrah. You do wish yourself in Egypt? Bet you’d rather be there. That’s where you really belong; weather’s better too. Would I had never come from thence, the soothsayer agrees. (Why’s he come—at Antony’s instigation or request? Perhaps—so, Antony’s superstitious. The detail of the soothsayer accompanying him to Rome is in the source.) And would Antony had never gone thither, gone to Egypt at all. Bad for Antony, and also, it seems, bad for Egypt, says this Egyptian soothsayer. If you can, if you’re able to tell me, what’s your reason for saying that? Explain yourself, says Antony. I see it in my motion, have it not in my tongue, says the soothsayer. It’s just a feeling I have, I can’t explain it, can’t quite put it into words. But yet hie you again to Egypt. Go back!
Antony’s got other matters on his mind, though, other pressing concerns. Say to me, whose fortunes shall rise higher: Caesar’s or mine? Who’s going to come out on top? Who’s going to win? Despite the truce, the marriage, Antony’s still entirely clear that this is a contest, a rivalry between them. And the soothsayer is unequivocal: Caesar’s fortunes will rise higher. He’ll win in the end. Therefore, O Antony, stay not by his side. Get out of here. Then he offers a striking insight into Antony’s character and way of being. Thy daemon, that thy spirit which keeps thee—your soul and very essence, Antony—is noble, courageous, high, unmatchable, where Caesar’s is not. You’re his superior in every way; you run rings around him. You’re the greater man in every respect, when you’re not with him. And yet somehow, when you’re in his presence, near him, thy angel becomes afeard, as being o’erpowered. Something about him cows you, diminishes you, curbs your noble spirit, makes you less. At some deep level you’re afraid of him. Therefore make space enough between you. The only solution is to get away from him, put some distance between you. Get out of here.