Antony and Cleopatra, Act 1, Scene 5

Charmian!

Charmian!

Madam?

Yes, madam?

Ha, ha! Give me to drink mandragora.

Ha, ha! Give me mandragora to drink.

Why, madam?

Why, madam?

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

So that I could 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 does your highness want?

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 just now. I take no pleasure in anything a eunuch has. It's lucky for you that, since you have no seed, your freer thoughts can't fly away out of Egypt. Do you have desires?

Yes, gracious madam.

Yes, gracious madam.

Indeed?

Really — in deed?

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 deed, madam, because I can do nothing except what is in fact 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! Carry yourself well, horse, for do you know whom you are carrying? 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?" — because that's what he calls me. Now I'm feeding myself with the most delicious poison. Does he think of me, who am blackened by Phoebus' loving pinches, and deeply wrinkled by time? Broad-browed Caesar, when you were here above the ground, I was a dainty bite fit for a king. And great Pompey would stand and fix his eyes on my forehead; there he would anchor his gaze, and die from looking at the woman who was his life.

Sovereign of Egypt, hail!

Hail, Sovereign 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 medicine has gilded you with its tincture. How is it going with my brave 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 to kiss — the last of many repeated kisses — this eastern pearl. His words are lodged 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 of an oyster; and at her feet, to make up for so small a present, I will add kingdoms to her rich throne. Tell her that all the east shall call her 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 beast.

What, was he sad or merry?

Tell me, was he sad or cheerful?

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

Like the time of year that falls between the extremes of hot and cold, he was neither sad 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 was not sad, because he wanted to shine on those who take their expressions from his; he was not cheerful, which seemed to tell them that his memory stayed in Egypt with his joy; but he was between the two. Oh, heavenly mixture! — Whether you are sad 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 thick and fast?

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 when I forget to send to Antony will die a beggar. — Ink and paper, Charmian. — Welcome, my good Alexas. — Charmian, did I ever love Caesar like this?

O that brave Caesar!

Oh, that brave Caesar!

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

May you choke on another outburst like that! Say "the brave Antony."

The valiant Caesar!

The valiant Caesar!

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

By Isis, I'll give you bloody teeth if you compare Caesar again with my man of men.

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

With your most gracious pardon, I'm only singing the tune you taught me.

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.

Those were my salad days, when I was unripe in judgement, cold in the blood, to talk as I talked 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 people.