Enter Antony

CHARMIAN                 But here comes Antony.

CLEOPATRA   I am sick and sullen.

ANTONY         I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose.

CLEOPATRA   Help me away, dear Charmian, I shall fall.

It cannot be thus long—the sides of nature

Will not sustain it.

ANTONY                     Now, my dearest queen.

CLEOPATRA   Pray you, stand farther from me.

ANTONY                                 What’s the matter?   (1.3.13-18)

Indeed, right on cue, here comes Antony, so that Cleopatra can demonstrate the success (or otherwise) of her methods of keeping him enthralled. She makes a lightning fast assessment of his mood—cheerful? full of purpose?—so it would seem, because she has to be the opposite: I am sick and sullen, she says, sullen not so much sulky here as serious, solemn. I am sorry to give breathing to my purpose, is Antony’s opener—no particular salutation, but rather an apology; I’m sorry to have to say what I’m about to say. But Cleopatra isn’t even going to acknowledge him: help me away, dear Charmian, I shall fall; she’s fainting, clutching her women, her head, her heart, not listening—not obviously listening—to what he’s saying. (She’s hanging on every word.) It cannot be thus long—I can’t put up with this much longer, this suffering, this pain, this agony—the sides of nature will not sustain it. My heart will burst, my frail little body just won’t be able to cope any more. And she sighs and swoons, one eye on Antony all the while. How much attention is he paying? Is he used to this kind of performance? Is he genuinely concerned when he says now, my dearest queen, or just steeling himself, getting on with the job, undeterred by whatever histrionics (whether familiar or not) he’s being presented with. Good choices for an actor to be able to make. Pray you, stand farther from me, perhaps not even acknowledging it’s him? just, give me some air, let me breathe, I feel faint. Fanning herself, leaning on Charmian and Iras. And finally, he notices—or has to concede that he’s noticed, and it could be resigned, slightly short, let’s get this bit out of the way as quickly as possible—or it could be real worry. What’s the matter? (What’s the matter now? What’s the matter this time? Choices, choices…)