Enter the Ambassador with Antony

ANTONY                     Is that his answer?

AMBASSADOR                       Ay, my lord.

ANTONY         The Queen shall then have courtesy, so she

Will yield us up.

AMBASSADOR           He says so.

ANTONY                                             Let her know’t.

[To Cleopatra]

To the boy Caesar send this grizzled head,

And he will fill thy wishes to the brim

With principalities.

CLEOPATRA  That head, my lord?  (3.13.13-18)

The pace has picked up: the ambassador is indeed returned and he’s already relayed Caesar’s offer (that isn’t really an offer at all, it’s an offer-that-can’t-be-refused, or so he thinks) to Antony; no need for the audience to hear it all again. Is that his answer? Ay, my lord. That’s it. Now a reminder of perhaps the most salient point of Caesar’s terms: the Queen shall then have courtesy, so she will yield us up. So, if Cleopatra hands Antony over, alive or dead, then she’ll be able to have whatever she wants. Yes, he says so, confirms the ambassador—perhaps with an embarrassed/curious glance at Cleopatra; he is, after all, not a proper diplomat, he doesn’t have a poker face. Let her know’t: go on, you tell her, says Antony. He—wants to see Cleopatra’s reaction? is confident that she’ll find it ridiculous, offensive even? is worried that he’ll see her hesitate? is simply amused by the prospect of this amateur ambassador having to find the words? Whatever, Antony seems to reconsider immediately, and she’s presumably been listening already, and so he reiterates, brutally: yes, that’s the deal on the table: to the boy Caesar (he never misses the opportunity to have a dig) send this grizzled head, my old, past-it, grey head (in contrast with that beardless boy) and he will fill thy wishes to the brim with principalities. He’ll give you everything you want, all the territory, all the kingdoms for your children. (It’s an image of excess entirely at home in Alexandria; it’s certainly not Caesar’s own language.) Antony can be incredulous, laughing at the ludicrousness of this situation they’re now in; he can also be bitter, despairing. Cleopatra has to have an instant take on the situation, one of horror, perhaps? or is it arch disbelief and even ridicule: what, that head, my lord? Presumably there’s a gesture, even a reaching out to him, anticipating a stroke, a ruffle of his greying hair. How will Antony respond?

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