Antony and Cleopatra, Act 1, Scene 5

Charmian!

Charmian!

Madam?

Yes, madam?

Ha, ha! Give me to drink mandragora.

Ha, ha! Give me a drink of mandragora.

Why, madam?

Why, madam?

That I might sleep out this great gap of time My Antony is away.

So that I can sleep through this huge stretch of time while my Antony is away.

You think of him too much.

You think about him too much.

O, ’tis treason!

Oh, that's treason!

Madam, I trust not so.

Madam, I hope not.

Thou, eunuch Mardian!

You, Mardian, the eunuch!

What’s your highness’ pleasure?

What would your highness like?

Not now to hear thee sing. I take no pleasure In aught an eunuch has. ’Tis well for thee That, being unseminared, thy freer thoughts May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast thou affections?

Not to hear you sing, not now. I take no pleasure in anything a eunuch has. It's lucky for you that, having no seed in you, your thoughts can roam more freely without flying out of Egypt. Do you have desires?

Yes, gracious madam.

Yes, gracious madam.

Indeed?

Really?

Not in deed, madam, for I can do nothing But what indeed is honest to be done. Yet have I fierce affections, and think What Venus did with Mars.

Not in action, madam, since I can do nothing but what is actually decent to do. Still, I have fierce desires, and I think about what Venus did with Mars.

O, Charmian, Where think’st thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he? Or does he walk? Or is he on his horse? O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony! Do bravely, horse, for wot’st thou whom thou mov’st? The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm And burgonet of men. He’s speaking now, Or murmuring “Where’s my serpent of old Nile?” For so he calls me. Now I feed myself With most delicious poison. Think on me That am with Phœbus’ amorous pinches black, And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Caesar, When thou wast here above the ground, I was A morsel for a monarch. And great Pompey Would stand and make his eyes grow in my brow; There would he anchor his aspect, and die With looking on his life.

Oh, Charmian, where do you think he is now? Is he standing, or sitting? Or is he walking? Or is he on his horse? Oh, lucky horse, to carry the weight of Antony! Behave splendidly, horse, for do you know whom you carry? The half-Atlas of this earth, the arm and helmet of men. He's speaking now, or murmuring, "Where's my serpent of old Nile?" — for that's what he calls me. Now I'm feeding myself with the most delicious poison. Is he thinking of me, who am darkened by the sun's loving pinches, and deeply wrinkled by time? Broad-browed Caesar, when you were here above the ground, I was a delicacy fit for a king. And great Pompey would stand and fix his eyes on my forehead as though they were rooted there; there he would anchor his gaze, and die gazing at the woman who was his life.

Sovereign of Egypt, hail!

Greetings, ruler of Egypt!

How much unlike art thou Mark Antony! Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath With his tinct gilded thee. How goes it with my brave Mark Antony?

How unlike Mark Antony you are! Yet, since you come from him, that great elixir has gilded you with its colour. How is my splendid Mark Antony?

Last thing he did, dear queen, He kissed—the last of many doubled kisses— This orient pearl. His speech sticks in my heart.

The last thing he did, dear queen, was kiss this eastern pearl — the last of many kisses upon kisses. His words are fixed in my heart.

Mine ear must pluck it thence.

My ear must pull them out of it.

“Good friend,” quoth he, “Say, the firm Roman to great Egypt sends This treasure of an oyster; at whose foot, To mend the petty present, I will piece Her opulent throne with kingdoms. All the east, Say thou, shall call her mistress.” So he nodded And soberly did mount an arm-gaunt steed, Who neighed so high that what I would have spoke Was beastly dumbed by him.

"Good friend," he said, "tell her that the steadfast Roman sends great Egypt this treasure taken from an oyster; and to make up for so small a gift, at her feet I will add kingdoms to her already rich throne. Tell her that all the east shall call her its mistress." Then he nodded and gravely mounted a lean-limbed horse, which neighed so loudly that whatever I was going to say was drowned out by the animal.

What, was he sad or merry?

Well, was he serious or cheerful?

Like to the time o’ th’ year between the extremes Of hot and cold, he was nor sad nor merry.

Like the season of the year that lies between the extremes of hot and cold, he was neither serious nor cheerful.

O well-divided disposition!—Note him, Note him, good Charmian, ’tis the man; but note him: He was not sad, for he would shine on those That make their looks by his; he was not merry, Which seemed to tell them his remembrance lay In Egypt with his joy; but between both. O heavenly mingle!—Be’st thou sad or merry, The violence of either thee becomes, So does it no man else.—Met’st thou my posts?

Oh, what a perfectly balanced temper! — Notice him, notice him, good Charmian, that's the man; but notice him: he wasn't serious, because he wanted to shine on those who take their expressions from his; he wasn't cheerful, which seemed to tell them that his thoughts remained in Egypt with his joy; but somewhere between the two. Oh, what a heavenly mixture! — Whether you're serious or cheerful, the extreme of either suits you, as it suits no other man. — Did you meet my messengers?

Ay, madam, twenty several messengers. Why do you send so thick?

Yes, madam, twenty separate messengers. Why do you send them so frequently?

Who’s born that day When I forget to send to Antony Shall die a beggar.—Ink and paper, Charmian.— Welcome, my good Alexas.—Did I, Charmian, Ever love Caesar so?

Whoever is born on the day I forget to send word to Antony will die a beggar. — Ink and paper, Charmian. — Welcome, my good Alexas. — Charmian, did I ever love Caesar this much?

O that brave Caesar!

Oh, that splendid Caesar!

Be choked with such another emphasis! Say “the brave Antony.”

May you choke if you stress his name like that again! Say "the splendid Antony."

The valiant Caesar!

The brave Caesar!

By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth If thou with Caesar paragon again My man of men.

By Isis, I'll make your teeth bleed if you ever again compare my man of men with Caesar.

By your most gracious pardon, I sing but after you.

Begging your most gracious pardon, I'm only echoing what you used to say.

My salad days, When I was green in judgment, cold in blood, To say as I said then. But come, away, Get me ink and paper. He shall have every day a several greeting, Or I’ll unpeople Egypt.

That was my green youth, when my judgment was unripe and my blood was cold, to speak as I spoke then. But come, off with you, get me ink and paper. He shall have a separate greeting every day, or I'll empty Egypt of its people.