Enter Eros
EROS They are beaten, sir, and our advantage serves
For a fair victory.
SCARUS Let us score their backs
And snatch ’em up as we take hares, behind.
’Tis sport to maul a runner.
ANTONY [to Eros] I will reward thee
Once for thy sprightly comfort, and tenfold
For thy good valour. Come thee on.
SCARUS I’ll halt after.
Exeunt (4.8.8-13)
They’re beaten, sir, crows Eros, not just metaphorically but literally: we’ve thrashed them! And our advantage serves for a fair victory: we’ve got them, we’ll surely win this now. (So the sense is that this is a skirmish; the battle isn’t quite over yet, or at least they can’t be certain.) Scarus is defiantly bloodthirsty, despite his wounds: let us score their backs, chase them from the field, whip them, wound them even as they run away; we should snatch ’em up as we take hares, behind. ’Tis sport to maul a runner. Scarus wants to hunt their opponents, take them prisoner (perhaps), hurt and humiliate them: Antony’s troops are now (at least potentially) the dogs of war; victory’s in sight, it seems, and so they can afford to have some fun, like hunters playing with their quarry. Scarus may be valiant and stoic, but he’s not coming out of this very well, and Caesar’s disciplined troops are very far from being panicked, timid, terrified hares. It’s the adrenaline talking, partly, but it introduces a note of hubris, albeit not in Antony himself, that’s significant. It’s telling, perhaps, that Antony doesn’t reply to Scarus, doesn’t echo his bloodthirsty sentiments. His concern is for Eros; he’s touchingly proud of him. I will reward thee once for thy sprightly comfort—at last, a messenger who’s brought good news, news that cheers the spirits! And tenfold for thy good valour. That’s my brave boy. Come thee on; let’s go. I’ll halt after, says Scarus; there could be a slightly bitter note of, don’t mind me, I’ll just limp along behind you, bleeding profusely. Or he could still be high on the battle—I’ll follow you! Don’t worry about waiting for me! Here we go!