ANTONY                                 My nightingale,

We have beat them to their beds. What, girl, though grey

Do something mingle with our younger brown, yet ha’ we

A brain that nourishes our nerves, and can

Get goal for goal of youth. Behold this man.

Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand;

Kiss it, my warrior. He hath fought today

As if a god, in hate of mankind, had

Destroyed in such a shape.  (4.9.18-26)

My nightingale—Cleopatra is sweet-voiced, apparently, and seductive; she sings her best songs at night—we have beat them to their beds. We chased them back to their camp; we’ve absolutely crushed them, humiliated them. Then one of those pivots which both Antony and Cleopatra make: Cleopatra is fairy, daystar, shining light—and also girl: what, girl, though grey do something mingle with our younger brown—I know I’m getting on a bit, grizzled around the temples, thin on top—but I can still cut it, there’s life in the old dog yet, and plenty of it. Yet ha’ we a brain that nourishes our nerves. I’ve still got it, the mental sharpness and the physical strength; my mind sustains and guides my muscles. Antony’s claiming superiority to younger men, because age and experience give him greater prowess and skill in battle—and, implicitly, in bed. We can, he says, get goal for goal of youth, win as many victories, match the young guys goal for goal, and beat them to the finish. Still got it!

Oh yes, Scarus, standing there, expectant, feeling more and more of an idiot, a spare wheel, sidelined by this near-foreplay. Behold this man. Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand: give him your hand to kiss, as a sign of your favour and praise. Kiss it, my warrior. Now Scarus has to be encouraged, perhaps overcome, frozen, dumbstruck. (One remembers that—so long ago—in Enobarbus’s speech, it was Cleopatra’s perfume which was one of her most overwhelming aspects. She must be imagined as utterly intoxicating here too.) Antony’s remembered himself a bit, shifts back slightly to being the generous general: he hath fought today as if a god, in hate of mankind, had destroyed in such a shape. He fought like an absolute hero, like a god taking vengeance on humanity, only taking on human form in order to do so. It’s a way of thinking about Antony himself that others, including Cleopatra, also adopt, that he’s a god among men.