[He] sits down
Enter Cleopatra led by Charmian[, Iras,] and Eros
EROS Nay, gentle madam, to him. Comfort him.
IRAS Do, most dear Queen.
CHARMIAN Do. Why, what else?
CLEOPATRA Let me sit down. O, Juno!
[She sits down]
ANTONY No, no, no, no, no.
EROS [to Antony] See you here, sir?
ANTONY O fie, fie, fie!
CHARMIAN Madam.
IRAS Madam. O, good Empress!
EROS Sir, sir. (3.11.25-34)
Antony’s in a bad way: the stage direction, sits down, is in the earliest text (Folio, 1623), and it seems likely that he sits on the ground, abject and distressed, alone at last—as he thinks—with his terrible self-reproach, remorse, and despair. And so enter Cleopatra, at the least apprehensive, or unwilling, and exhausted—and she, after all, was in the battle too, so disastrously—so it’s not surprising that she is led by her women, encouraged and perhaps physically supported. Eros too, now apparently a go-between character, as much part of Cleopatra’s entourage as of Antony’s. He’s the one who speaks to Cleopatra when, as seems likely, she hangs back or turns to go: nay, gentle madam, to him. Go on, he needs you, no matter what. Comfort him. This emboldens Iras, do, most dear Queen, and Charmian, who can have a note of extra pleading, and pragmatism: do. Why, what else? what else can you do, what else is there to be done? They all speak carefully, kindly, even lovingly, to their mistress, as gentle madam, most dear Queen; no reproaches here, although they must all be too well aware that this is all ultimately her fault.
At least Cleopatra isn’t running away if she’s asking to sit down, but she could be faint, weak, legs giving way. O, Juno! she says, and there’s pathos, perhaps, in her invocation both of a Roman deity, not Isis, and that Juno is the goddess of marriage, all too often at war with her erring husband. A weariness. There can be a moment of anxiety, on stage and indeed in the audience, at Antony’s next utterance—no, no, no, no, no—denial, rebuttal, disbelief; is it directed at Cleopatra, a rejection, the beginning of a terrible, final row? No, he hasn’t even noticed her, it seems, so lost is he in his own head. So now it’s Eros, again, who intervenes, tries to facilitate: see you here, sir? do you know who this is, who’s come to see you? as one might say to a sick or frightened child, a bewildered old person. O fie, fie, fie! Is that directed to Cleopatra? It can be, but probably not; more self-reproach. You absolute fool, you idiot, how could you be so stupid? FFS, as it were. Cleopatra’s distressed—perhaps she thinks that he is speaking to her, or that he’s deliberately ignoring her—or she tries to get up to go, or she slumps further to the ground, prompting her attendants again: Madam! Madam! O, good Empress! And Antony’s still suffering: Sir, sir, Eros cajoles him. Come back to us. The faithful servants, Cleopatra’s girls, this new-ish man of Antony’s—they’re trying to keep things going, trying to get their mistress and master through this, by getting them to recognise, forgive, and take refuge in each other.
