ANTONY         [calling] Approach, there!—Ah, you kite! Now, gods and devils,

Authority melts from me of late. When I cried ‘Ho!’,

Like boys unto a muss kings would start forth,

And cry ‘Your will?’—Have you no ears? I am

Antony yet.

[Enter servants]

Take hence this jack, and whip him.

ENOBARBUS  [aside to Thidias] ’Tis better playing with a lion’s whelp

Than with an old one dying. (3.13.88-94)

Antony was already in a bad mood and now he’s in a worse one, as he yells for servants: approach, there! Get in here! Ah, you kite! That’s addressed to Cleopatra, briefly, in disgust, dismissively—you whore—before he switches back to the servants and the fact that they’re not arriving at a run to do his bidding. Now, gods and devils, authority melts from me of late. It’s as if no one listens to me anymore, no one obeys my orders. Time was, when I cried ‘Ho!’, hey, jump to it, like boys unto a muss kings would start forth, and cry ‘Your will?’ I had only to shout and it was as if even kings and princes, great men would leap into action as if they were boys playing a game, scrabbling for nuts and sweetmeats scattered on the ground,* waiting to be given their orders: ‘you called, my lord? How can we be of service?’ Have you no ears? The servants still haven’t appeared. Are you deaf? I am Antony yet, I’m still your boss and your leader, I’m still myself, and you answer to me. Finally the servants appear (perhaps a line earlier, to be berated for their slowness: have you lost your actual hearing, oafs?) And yes, take hence this jack, this knave, this cheeky upstart, and whip him. Told you so, says Enobarbus, to Thidias, or he might as well. ’Tis better playing with a lion’s whelp than with an old one dying. You may have thrown your lot in with the rising man, Caesar, the cub, the next generation—but don’t underestimate the old soldier, the great man on his way down. He can still fight like hell, and there’s life in the old lion yet.

* a lolly-scramble, in Antipodean parlance…