ANTONY O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more.
Fortune and Antony part here; even here
Do we shake hands. All come to this? The hearts
That spanieled me at heels, to whom I gave
Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets
On blossoming Caesar; and this pine is barked
That overtopped them all. (4.13.18-24)
Antony hasn’t often been left alone to soliloquise, but now he is, for a brief, vivid moment. O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more. It’s a statement of (suicidal?) intent, albeit a circumlocution: I’m not going to live to see another sunrise. This is it. Fortune and Antony part here; even here do we shake hands. My luck has run out, and it’s all downhill from here. Farewell, fortune! All come to this? Is this really how it ends? He can’t quite believe the anti-climax; he’s not in the thick of battle, he’s watching from afar as a battle hasn’t even taken place. Then a series of extraordinary conceits: the hearts that spanieled me at heels, the men, friends and followers, who were so loyal to me, who fawned on me and flattered me like dogs (but it’s still quite a charming image, these doting spaniels, following him around, full of affection and loyalty), to whom I gave their wishes—I rewarded them with everything they asked for!—that’s all gone. They’re fickle: instead of bestowing the sweetness of their loyal service on me, their love, even (and he’s partly thinking of Cleopatra too, in this strange, sensual conceit) all my former followers do discandy, melt their sweets on blossoming Caesar. They melt away, slobbering like dogs, careless of the treats they’ve been given—and they have turned their attention, their loyalty to Caesar, who’s the coming man, blossoming, flowering into his power. He’s the one now, he’s on the up: men flock to him, give him all their protestations of service, all the sweetness of their flattery. Meanwhile this pine is barked that overtopped them all. I was the tallest tree, this pine (unlike that pine, the one I just stood by, to survey the scene at sea); I was their superior in all things, the acknowledged leader. And now I’m finished, mortally wounded like a ring-barked tree, stripped of my protection, abandoned by my friends and followers. Vulnerable and alone.