Act 1, Scene 1

Original Text

*Alexandria. A Room in Cleopatra's palace. Enter Demetrius and Philo.* PHILO. Nay, but this dotage of our general's O'erflows the measure. Those his goodly eyes, That o'er the files and musters of the war Have glowed like plated Mars, now bend, now turn The office and devotion of their view Upon a tawny front. His captain's heart, Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst The buckles on his breast, reneges all temper And is become the bellows and the fan To cool a gipsy's lust.

Modern English

*Alexandria. A room in Cleopatra's palace. Demetrius and Philo enter.* PHILO. No, I'm telling you — our general's infatuation has gone way too far. Those eyes of his, that once blazed over battle lines and troop musters like the war god himself, now turn and bend all their attention, all their devotion, toward a dark-skinned face. His soldier's heart — the one that used to burst its armor buckles in the thick of great battles — has abandoned all self-control and become nothing more than a fan cooling an Egyptian woman's desire.

Original Text

*Flourish. Enter Antony and Cleopatra, her Ladies, the Train, with Eunuchs fanning her.* Look where they come: Take but good note, and you shall see in him The triple pillar of the world transform'd Into a strumpet's fool. Behold and see. CLEOPATRA. If it be love indeed, tell me how much. ANTONY. There's beggary in the love that can be reckoned.

Modern English

*Trumpets sound. Antony and Cleopatra enter with her ladies, their attendants, and eunuchs fanning her.* Look, here they come. Watch closely, and you'll see with your own eyes how the man who was one of the three pillars of the world has been turned into a fool for a whore. See for yourself. CLEOPATRA. If this really is love, tell me — how much do you love me? ANTONY. Any love you can put a number on isn't worth having.

Original Text

CLEOPATRA. I'll set a bourn how far to be beloved. ANTONY. Then must thou needs find out new heaven, new earth. *Enter a Messenger.* MESSENGER. News, my good lord, from Rome. ANTONY. Grates me, the sum.

Modern English

CLEOPATRA. Then I'll set the limits of how much I want to be loved. ANTONY. In that case, you'll have to find a new heaven and a new earth. *A Messenger enters.* MESSENGER. News from Rome, my lord. ANTONY. The short version. And make it quick.

Original Text

CLEOPATRA. Nay, hear them, Antony. Fulvia perchance is angry; or who knows If the scarce-bearded Caesar have not sent His powerful mandate to you: "Do this or this; Take in that kingdom and enfranchise that. Perform't, or else we damn thee." ANTONY. How, my love?

Modern English

CLEOPATRA. No, listen to them, Antony. Maybe Fulvia's upset about something — or who knows, maybe that barely-grown Caesar has sent his great commands to you: "Do this, do that; conquer this kingdom, free that one. Do as you're told, or face our wrath." ANTONY. What are you saying, my love?

Original Text

CLEOPATRA. Perchance! Nay, and most like. You must not stay here longer; your dismission Is come from Caesar; therefore hear it, Antony. Where's Fulvia's process?—Caesar's I would say? Both? Call in the messengers. As I am Egypt's queen, Thou blushest, Antony, and that blood of thine Is Caesar's homager; else so thy cheek pays shame When shrill-tongued Fulvia scolds. The messengers!

Modern English

CLEOPATRA. Maybe? No — almost certainly. You can't stay here any longer; your dismissal has come from Caesar, so listen to it, Antony. Where's the summons from Fulvia — or Caesar, I should say? Both? Bring in the messengers. By my crown as Egypt's queen, you're blushing, Antony — that color in your cheeks shows you answer to Caesar, or else it's the same blush you get when sharp-tongued Fulvia gives you a scolding. The messengers!

Original Text

ANTONY. Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch Of the ranged empire fall! Here is my space. Kingdoms are clay. Our dungy earth alike Feeds beast as man. The nobleness of life Is to do thus [*Embracing*]; when such a mutual pair And such a twain can do't, in which I bind, On pain of punishment, the world to weet We stand up peerless.

Modern English

ANTONY. Let Rome dissolve into the Tiber, and the whole arch of the empire crumble to dust! This is where I belong. Kingdoms are dirt. The same filthy earth feeds animals and kings alike. The finest thing in life is this — [*He embraces her*] — when two people perfectly matched can share it together, and in that I'll dare the whole world to know and prove there is no pair that equals us.

Original Text

CLEOPATRA. Excellent falsehood! Why did he marry Fulvia, and not love her? I'll seem the fool I am not. Antony Will be himself. ANTONY. But stirred by Cleopatra. Now, for the love of Love and her soft hours, Let's not confound the time with conference harsh. There's not a minute of our lives should stretch Without some pleasure now. What sport tonight?

Modern English

CLEOPATRA. Beautiful nonsense! Then why did he marry Fulvia without loving her? I'll play the fool he takes me for. Antony will always be himself. ANTONY. Only when Cleopatra stirs him. Come — for the sake of love and all its gentle hours, let's not waste our time on harsh conversation. Not a single minute of our lives should pass without some pleasure in it. What shall we do tonight?

Original Text

CLEOPATRA. Hear the ambassadors. ANTONY. Fie, wrangling queen! Whom everything becomes—to chide, to laugh, To weep; whose every passion fully strives To make itself, in thee fair and admired! No messenger but thine, and all alone Tonight we'll wander through the streets and note The qualities of people. Come, my queen, Last night you did desire it. Speak not to us. *[Exeunt Antony and Cleopatra with the Train.]*

Modern English

CLEOPATRA. Hear what the ambassadors have to say. ANTONY. Oh, you quarrelsome queen! Everything suits you — scolding, laughing, weeping; every feeling in you strains to be beautiful, and somehow is! No messengers but yours. Tonight, just us two, we'll wander the city streets and watch how people live. Come, my queen — you wanted to do exactly this last night. Don't speak to us. *[Antony and Cleopatra exit with their attendants.]*

Original Text

DEMETRIUS. Is Caesar with Antonius prized so slight? PHILO. Sir, sometimes when he is not Antony, He comes too short of that great property Which still should go with Antony. DEMETRIUS. I am full sorry That he approves the common liar who Thus speaks of him at Rome, but I will hope Of better deeds tomorrow. Rest you happy! *[Exeunt.]*

Modern English

DEMETRIUS. Does Caesar really matter so little to Antony? PHILO. Sir, there are times when he stops being Antony — when he falls so far short of what that name should mean, what it has always meant. DEMETRIUS. It grieves me that he's proving right every gossip who talks about him this way back in Rome. Still, I'll hold out hope for better from him tomorrow. Good night. *[They exit.]*