ANTONY                     Now I must

To the young man send humble treaties, dodge

And palter in the shifts of lowness, who

With half the bulk o’th’ world played as I pleased,

Making and marring fortunes. You did know

How much you were my conqueror, and that

My sword, made weak by my affection, would

Obey it on all cause.

CLEOPATRA              Pardon, pardon!        (3.11.61-8)

Antony doesn’t engage with Cleopatra yet, quite; he’s got to finish saying his piece, rueful and realistic and full of self-reproach—but not, really, rebuking her, or not with any great sharpness. Now I must to the young man send humble treaties. I’ve got to beg and grovel, to that boy, Caesar, whom I refuse to name, whom I have always overshadowed and regarded as a lightweight. (Caesar was indeed twenty years younger; this is all partly about Antony himself realising that he is no longer young, and that war and politics is a young man’s game.) I must dodge and palter in the shifts of lowness, haggle and hustle and cut a deal, humiliate myself, act like someone shifty and dishonourable—me, who with half the bulk of the world played as I pleased, making and marring fortunes. I was the boss, the man, my word was law, my honour was sovereign. I was in control; I set the terms, for half the empire. And yet, even though I had all that power, you did know—he finally comes to Cleopatra—how much you were my conqueror. I ruled half the world, and you ruled—you rule—me. You knew my sword, made weak by my affection (and here Antony ruefully, self-woundingly employs the language of emasculation; you’ve unmanned me, he says) would obey it on all cause. I’ve always been guided, and been led, by my love, my passionate devotion to you, above everything else, above reason itself. In the moment, he believes it utterly (it would be churlish to say, but, Octavia?) and so, it seems, does Cleopatra—and she still pleads, pardon, pardon. A shouting match had seemed not unlikely, full of bitterness and reproach, but instead, there’s self-awareness, realism, truth. Antony could make the choice to shout, be fierce, but actually I think that the fight has gone out of him—and it’s striking that he only engages with Cleopatra and she with him, their loyal attendants are ignored. The two of them are all that matter in this moment, again. It’s only about them.