Antony and Cleopatra, Act 1, Scene 2

Lord Alexas, sweet Alexas, most anything Alexas, almost most absolute Alexas, where’s the soothsayer that you praised so to th’ queen? O, that I knew this husband which you say must charge his horns with garlands!

Lord Alexas, sweet Alexas, almost-anything-you-like Alexas, very nearly utterly perfect Alexas, where's the fortune-teller you praised so highly to the queen? Oh, if only I knew this husband who, you say, must hang garlands on his horns!

Soothsayer!

Soothsayer!

Your will?

What do you want?

Is this the man? Is’t you, sir, that know things?

Is this the man? Is it you, sir, who knows things?

In nature’s infinite book of secrecy A little I can read.

In nature's endless book of secrets I can read a little.

Show him your hand.

Show him your hand.

Bring in the banquet quickly; wine enough Cleopatra’s health to drink.

Bring the banquet in quickly, with enough wine to drink Cleopatra's health.

Good, sir, give me good fortune.

Please, sir, give me good fortune.

I make not, but foresee.

I don't make fortunes; I foresee them.

Pray, then, foresee me one.

Then please foresee one for me.

You shall be yet far fairer than you are.

You will become far more beautiful than you are now.

He means in flesh.

He means fatter.

No, you shall paint when you are old.

No, he means you'll wear make-up when you're old.

Wrinkles forbid!

Heaven keep the wrinkles away!

Vex not his prescience. Be attentive.

Don't disturb his foresight. Pay attention.

Hush!

Quiet!

You shall be more beloving than beloved.

You will love more than you are loved.

I had rather heat my liver with drinking.

I'd rather heat up my liver with drinking.

Nay, hear him.

No, listen to him.

Good now, some excellent fortune! Let me be married to three kings in a forenoon and widow them all. Let me have a child at fifty, to whom Herod of Jewry may do homage. Find me to marry me with Octavius Caesar, and companion me with my mistress.

Come on now, some wonderful fortune! Let me be married to three kings in one morning and be widowed by them all. Let me have a child at fifty, one whom Herod of Jewry will bow down to. Arrange for me to marry Octavius Caesar, and so be my mistress's equal.

You shall outlive the lady whom you serve.

You will outlive the lady you serve.

O, excellent! I love long life better than figs.

Oh, excellent! I love a long life better than figs.

You have seen and proved a fairer former fortune Than that which is to approach.

The fortune you have already had and experienced is finer than the one that is coming.

Then belike my children shall have no names. Prithee, how many boys and wenches must I have?

Then it seems my children will have no names. Please, how many boys and girls am I going to have?

If every of your wishes had a womb, And fertile every wish, a million.

If every one of your wishes had a womb, and every wish were fertile, a million.

Out, fool! I forgive thee for a witch.

Get out, fool! I pardon you because you're only a witch.

You think none but your sheets are privy to your wishes.

You think nothing but your bedsheets are in on your wishes.

Nay, come, tell Iras hers.

No, come on, tell Iras her fortune.

We’ll know all our fortunes.

We'll all have our fortunes told.

Mine, and most of our fortunes tonight, shall be drunk to bed.

My fortune, and most of ours tonight, will be to go to bed drunk.

There’s a palm presages chastity, if nothing else.

Here's a palm that predicts chastity, if nothing else.

E’en as the o’erflowing Nilus presageth famine.

Just the way the flooding Nilus predicts famine.

Go, you wild bedfellow, you cannot soothsay.

Get away, you wild bedmate, you're no fortune-teller.

Nay, if an oily palm be not a fruitful prognostication, I cannot scratch mine ear. Prithee, tell her but workaday fortune.

No, if a damp palm isn't a sign of fruitfulness, then I can't scratch my own ear. Please, just tell her an ordinary, everyday fortune.

Your fortunes are alike.

Your fortunes are the same.

But how, but how? give me particulars.

But how, how? Give me the details.

I have said.

I've said what I have to say.

Am I not an inch of fortune better than she?

Am I not an inch better off in fortune than she is?

Well, if you were but an inch of fortune better than I, where would you choose it?

Well, if you were just an inch better off in fortune than I am, where would you want that inch?

Not in my husband’s nose.

Not on my husband's nose.

Our worser thoughts heavens mend! Alexas—come, his fortune! his fortune! O, let him marry a woman that cannot go, sweet Isis, I beseech thee, and let her die too, and give him a worse, and let worse follow worse, till the worst of all follow him laughing to his grave, fiftyfold a cuckold! Good Isis, hear me this prayer, though thou deny me a matter of more weight; good Isis, I beseech thee!

May heaven reform our dirtier thoughts! Alexas — come on, his fortune! His fortune! Oh, sweet Isis, I beg you, let him marry a woman who can't walk, and let her die too, and then give him a worse one, and let worse follow worse, until the worst of them all follows him laughing to his grave, a cuckold fifty times over! Good Isis, grant me this prayer, even if you refuse me something more important; good Isis, I beg you!

Amen. Dear goddess, hear that prayer of the people! For, as it is a heartbreaking to see a handsome man loose-wived, so it is a deadly sorrow to behold a foul knave uncuckolded. Therefore, dear Isis, keep decorum and fortune him accordingly!

Amen. Dear goddess, hear that prayer of the people! For just as it breaks your heart to see a handsome man with an unfaithful wife, so it is a deadly grief to see a filthy scoundrel who isn't a cuckold. So, dear Isis, keep things proper and give him the fortune he deserves!

Amen.

Amen.

Lo now, if it lay in their hands to make me a cuckold, they would make themselves whores but they’d do’t!

Look at that — if it were in their power to make me a cuckold, they'd turn themselves into whores rather than miss the chance!

Hush, Here comes Antony.

Quiet, here comes Antony.

Not he, the queen.

Not him — the queen.

Saw you my lord?

Have you seen my lord?

No, lady.

No, my lady.

Was he not here?

Wasn't he here?

No, madam.

No, madam.

He was disposed to mirth; but on the sudden A Roman thought hath struck him. Enobarbus!

He was in a cheerful mood, but all at once a thought of Rome struck him. Enobarbus!

Madam?

Madam?

Seek him and bring him hither. Where’s Alexas?

Go find him and bring him here. Where's Alexas?

Here, at your service. My lord approaches.

Here, at your service. My lord is coming.

We will not look upon him. Go with us.

We won't even look at him. Come with us.

Fulvia thy wife first came into the field.

Fulvia, your wife, was the first to take the field.

Against my brother Lucius.

Against my brother Lucius.

Ay. But soon that war had end, and the time’s state Made friends of them, jointing their force ’gainst Caesar, Whose better issue in the war from Italy Upon the first encounter drave them.

Yes. But that war soon ended, and the situation at the time made them allies, joining their forces against Caesar, who had the better of it in the war and drove them out of Italy at the first battle.

Well, what worst?

All right, what's the worst of it?

The nature of bad news infects the teller.

Bad news by its nature infects the one who brings it.

When it concerns the fool or coward. On. Things that are past are done with me. ’Tis thus: Who tells me true, though in his tale lie death, I hear him as he flattered.

Only when it's a fool or a coward who's hearing it. Go on. Things that are past are finished as far as I'm concerned. It's like this: whoever tells me the truth, even if there's death in his story, I listen to him as though he were flattering me.

Labienus— This is stiff news—hath with his Parthian force Extended Asia from Euphrates His conquering banner shook from Syria To Lydia and to Ionia, Whilst—

Labienus — this is hard news — with his Parthian army has stretched his conquest over Asia from the Euphrates; he shook his conquering banner from Syria to Lydia and Ionia, while —

“Antony”, thou wouldst say—

"Antony," you were going to say —

O, my lord!

Oh, my lord!

Speak to me home; mince not the general tongue. Name Cleopatra as she is called in Rome; Rail thou in Fulvia’s phrase, and taunt my faults With such full licence as both truth and malice Have power to utter. O, then we bring forth weeds When our quick minds lie still, and our ills told us Is as our earing. Fare thee well awhile.

Speak to me bluntly; don't soften what people in general are saying. Call Cleopatra what she's called in Rome. Abuse me in Fulvia's own language, and mock my faults as freely as truth and spite together are able to. Oh, we grow nothing but weeds when our lively minds lie idle, and being told our faults is our ploughing. Goodbye for a while.

At your noble pleasure.

As you nobly wish, sir.

From Sicyon, ho, the news? Speak there!

What's the news from Sicyon? Speak up there!

The man from Sicyon—

The man from Sicyon —

Is there such a one?

Is there such a man?

He stays upon your will.

He's waiting for your orders.

Let him appear.

Let him come in.

These strong Egyptian fetters I must break, Or lose myself in dotage.

I must break these strong Egyptian chains, or lose myself in infatuation.

What are you?

Who are you?

Fulvia thy wife is dead.

Fulvia your wife is dead.

Where died she?

Where did she die?

In Sicyon: Her length of sickness, with what else more serious Importeth thee to know, this bears.

In Sicyon. How long her illness lasted, along with everything else more serious that it matters for you to know, this contains.

Forbear me.

Leave me.

There’s a great spirit gone! Thus did I desire it. What our contempts doth often hurl from us, We wish it ours again. The present pleasure, By revolution lowering, does become The opposite of itself. She’s good, being gone. The hand could pluck her back that shoved her on. I must from this enchanting queen break off. Ten thousand harms, more than the ills I know, My idleness doth hatch. How now, Enobarbus!

A great spirit is gone! And this is what I wanted. What our scorn often throws away from us, we wish were ours again. The pleasure we have now, sinking as the wheel turns, becomes the opposite of itself. She's good, now that she's dead. The hand that pushed her away could pull her back. I must break away from this bewitching queen. Ten thousand harms, worse than the troubles I already know about, are being hatched by my idleness. Well, Enobarbus!

What’s your pleasure, sir?

What do you want, sir?

I must with haste from hence.

I must leave here quickly.

Why then we kill all our women. We see how mortal an unkindness is to them. If they suffer our departure, death’s the word.

Why then we'll kill all our women. We know how deadly the least unkindness is to them. If they have to put up with our leaving, death is the result.

I must be gone.

I have to go.

Under a compelling occasion, let women die. It were pity to cast them away for nothing, though, between them and a great cause they should be esteemed nothing. Cleopatra, catching but the least noise of this, dies instantly. I have seen her die twenty times upon far poorer moment. I do think there is mettle in death which commits some loving act upon her, she hath such a celerity in dying.

If the reason is urgent, let the women die. It would be a shame to throw them away for nothing, though set beside a great cause they ought to count as nothing. Cleopatra, catching the faintest hint of this, will die on the spot. I've seen her die twenty times over far smaller matters. I do think there's something arousing in death that performs some act of love on her, she has such speed in dying.

She is cunning past man’s thought.

She's craftier than any man can imagine.

Alack, sir, no; her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love. We cannot call her winds and waters sighs and tears; they are greater storms and tempests than almanacs can report. This cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a shower of rain as well as Jove.

Oh no, sir, not at all; her passions are made of nothing but the purest essence of true love. We can't call her winds and waters mere sighs and tears; they are greater storms and tempests than the almanacs can record. This can't be cunning in her; if it is, then she can make a rainstorm as well as Jove can.

Would I had never seen her!

I wish I had never seen her!

O, sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece of work, which not to have been blest withal would have discredited your travel.

Oh, sir, then you would have left a marvellous piece of workmanship unseen, and not to have been blessed with that sight would have made your travels a waste.

Fulvia is dead.

Fulvia is dead.

Sir?

Sir?

Fulvia is dead.

Fulvia is dead.

Fulvia?

Fulvia?

Dead.

Dead.

Why, sir, give the gods a thankful sacrifice. When it pleaseth their deities to take the wife of a man from him, it shows to man the tailors of the earth; comforting therein that when old robes are worn out, there are members to make new. If there were no more women but Fulvia, then had you indeed a cut, and the case to be lamented. This grief is crowned with consolation; your old smock brings forth a new petticoat: and indeed the tears live in an onion that should water this sorrow.

Why then, sir, offer the gods a sacrifice of thanks. When it pleases their divinities to take a man's wife from him, it points him to the tailors of this world; the comfort being that when old clothes are worn out, there are people to make new ones. If there were no other women but Fulvia, then you really would have suffered a loss, and the case would be worth mourning. This grief is crowned with consolation: your old smock produces a new petticoat, and honestly, the tears that should water this sorrow live in an onion.

The business she hath broached in the state Cannot endure my absence.

The trouble she has started in the state cannot stand my being away.

And the business you have broached here cannot be without you, especially that of Cleopatra’s, which wholly depends on your abode.

And the business you have started here can't go on without you — especially Cleopatra's, which depends entirely on your staying.

No more light answers. Let our officers Have notice what we purpose. I shall break The cause of our expedience to the Queen, And get her leave to part. For not alone The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches, Do strongly speak to us, but the letters too Of many our contriving friends in Rome Petition us at home. Sextus Pompeius Hath given the dare to Caesar, and commands The empire of the sea. Our slippery people, Whose love is never linked to the deserver Till his deserts are past, begin to throw Pompey the Great and all his dignities Upon his son, who, high in name and power, Higher than both in blood and life, stands up For the main soldier; whose quality, going on, The sides o’ th’ world may danger. Much is breeding Which, like the courser’s hair, hath yet but life And not a serpent’s poison. Say our pleasure To such whose place is under us, requires Our quick remove from hence.

No more flippant replies. Let our officers be told what we intend. I'll explain the reason for our sudden departure to the Queen, and get her permission to go. For it isn't only Fulvia's death, along with more pressing matters, that speaks urgently to us; there are also letters from many friends who are working for us in Rome, calling us home. Sextus Pompeius has challenged Caesar, and rules the sea. Our fickle people, whose love is never attached to the man who deserves it until his deserving is over, are beginning to transfer Pompey the Great and all his honours onto his son, who, high in reputation and power — and higher still in spirit and vigour — sets himself up as the chief soldier; and if his standing keeps growing, it could endanger the whole framework of the world. Much is coming to life that, like a horsehair, has life so far but not yet a serpent's venom. Tell those whose rank is below ours that our will requires us to leave here quickly.

I shall do’t.

I'll do it.