Enobarbus’s Description of Cleopatra - Line-by-Line Paraphrase

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, Act 2, Scene 2

Original: I will tell you.
Modern: I’ll tell you about it.

Original: The barge she sat in, like a burnish’d throne,
Modern: The boat she sat in was like a polished throne,

Original: Burn’d on the water: the poop was beaten gold;
Modern: It glowed on the water—the back deck was made of hammered gold.

Original: Purple the sails, and so perfumed that
Modern: The sails were purple and so heavily perfumed that

Original: The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver,
Modern: Even the winds fell in love with them; the oars were made of silver,

Original: Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made
Modern: Which rowed in time to flute music, and made

Original: The water which they beat to follow faster,
Modern: The water they hit seem to follow the boat faster,

Original: As amorous of their strokes. For her own person,
Modern: As if in love with their rowing. As for Cleopatra herself,

Original: It beggar’d all description: she did lie
Modern: She was beyond all description—she reclined

Original: In her pavilion, cloth-of-gold of tissue,
Modern: In her canopy made of gold fabric,

Original: O’er-picturing that Venus where we see
Modern: Looking even more beautiful than paintings of Venus where

Original: The fancy outwork nature: on each side her
Modern: The artist’s imagination surpasses real life. On each side of her

Original: Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids,
Modern: Stood beautiful young boys with dimples, looking like smiling Cupids,

Original: With divers-colour’d fans, whose wind did seem
Modern: With multi-colored fans, and the breeze from these fans seemed

Original: To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
Modern: To make her delicate cheeks glow even as they cooled them—

Original: And what they undid did.
Modern: They created the very effect they were supposed to prevent.

Original: Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides,
Modern: Her ladies-in-waiting, like sea nymphs,

Original: So many mermaids, tended her i’ the eyes,
Modern: Like mermaids, watched her every glance,

Original: And made their bends adornings: at the helm
Modern: And made even their bows look graceful. At the steering wheel

Original: A seeming mermaid steers: the silken tackle
Modern: What looked like a mermaid was steering; the silk ropes

Original: Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands,
Modern: Swelled at the touch of those soft-as-flowers hands

Original: That yarely frame the office. From the barge
Modern: That skillfully did the work. From the boat

Original: A strange invisible perfume hits the sense
Modern: An exotic, invisible perfume struck the senses

Original: Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast
Modern: Of the nearby docks. The city poured

Original: Her people out upon her; and Antony,
Modern: Its people out to see her; and Antony,

Original: Enthroned i’ the market-place, did sit alone,
Modern: Sitting on his throne in the marketplace, sat alone,

Original: Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy,
Modern: Whistling to the empty air—which, if it wouldn’t create a vacuum,

Original: Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too,
Modern: Would have gone to look at Cleopatra too,

Original: And made a gap in nature.
Modern: And left a hole in nature itself.

Original: Upon her landing, Antony sent to her,
Modern: When she came ashore, Antony sent a messenger to her,

Original: Invited her to supper: she replied,
Modern: Inviting her to dinner. She replied

Original: It should be better he became her guest;
Modern: That it would be better if he came as her guest instead,

Original: Which she entreated: our courteous Antony,
Modern: Which she requested. Our polite Antony,

Original: Whom ne’er the word of ‘No’ woman heard speak,
Modern: Who has never said the word “no” to any woman,

Original: Being barber’d ten times o’er, goes to the feast,
Modern: After being groomed and shaved over and over, goes to the feast,

Original: And for his ordinary pays his heart
Modern: And for his meal he pays with his heart

Original: For what his eyes eat only.
Modern: For what only his eyes could feast upon.

Original: I saw her once
Modern: I saw her once

Original: Hop forty paces through the public street;
Modern: Skip forty steps through the public street,

Original: And having lost her breath, she spoke, and panted,
Modern: And when she’d lost her breath, she spoke while panting,

Original: That she did make defect perfection,
Modern: In such a way that she made her flaw seem perfect,

Original: And, breathless, power breathe forth.
Modern: And even breathless, she radiated power.

Original: Never; he will not:
Modern: Never—he won’t leave her.

Original: Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
Modern: Age cannot make her fade, nor can familiarity make stale

Original: Her infinite variety: other women cloy
Modern: Her endless charm and changes. Other women sicken

Original: The appetites they feed: but she makes hungry
Modern: The desires they satisfy, but she makes you more hungry

Original: Where most she satisfies; for vilest things
Modern: The more she satisfies you. Even the worst things

Original: Become themselves in her: that the holy priests
Modern: Look good on her—so much so that even the holy priests

Original: Bless her when she is riggish.
Modern: Bless her when she’s being sexually promiscuous.

In Act II, Scene 2 of “Antony and Cleopatra,” the triumvirs Antony, Octavius Caesar, and Lepidus meet in Rome to address the tensions that have arisen between Antony and Caesar. Caesar accuses Antony of failing to provide military aid when requested and of showing disrespect to his messengers. Antony defends himself, acknowledging some negligence due to his time in Egypt but denying deliberate offense. The discussion grows heated as they air their grievances, with their respective followers—Enobarbus for Antony and Maecenas and Agrippa for Caesar—attempting to mediate and encourage reconciliation for the sake of their common cause against Pompey, who threatens their power from his position at sea.

To cement the alliance and heal the breach between the two leaders, Agrippa proposes that Antony marry Caesar’s sister, Octavia, who is described as a woman of virtue and beauty. Both triumvirs agree to the match, seeing it as a strategic union that will bind them together and strengthen their political partnership. After the formal discussions conclude, Enobarbus remains behind with Maecenas and Agrippa, and they discuss Antony’s life in Egypt. Enobarbus delivers his famous description of Cleopatra’s magnificent arrival on her barge to meet Antony, painting a vivid picture of her irresistible beauty and the splendor of her court, making it clear that despite the political marriage to Octavia, Antony’s heart remains captivated by the Egyptian queen.

Antony and Cleopatra follows the tragic downfall of Mark Antony, one of Rome’s three ruling triumvirs, who becomes consumed by his passionate love affair with Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt. The play opens with Antony already established in Alexandria, neglecting his Roman duties while reveling in the exotic pleasures of Cleopatra’s court. When news arrives that his wife Fulvia has died and that Pompey threatens Roman territories, Antony reluctantly returns to Rome, where he reconciles with Octavius Caesar and marries Caesar’s sister Octavia to strengthen their political alliance, temporarily abandoning Cleopatra.

Despite his marriage to Octavia, Antony cannot resist returning to Egypt and Cleopatra, effectively declaring war on Rome and Caesar. The political and personal tensions culminate in the naval Battle of Actium, where Cleopatra’s fleet flees mid-battle, and Antony, following her, seals both their military defeat and political doom. Back in Egypt, as Caesar’s forces close in, the lovers face their inevitable destruction with a series of miscommunications and desperate acts.

The tragedy reaches its climax when Cleopatra, fearing Antony’s rage, sends word that she has died. Devastated, Antony falls on his sword but survives long enough to be carried to Cleopatra’s monument, where he dies in her arms. Rather than face the humiliation of being paraded through Rome as Caesar’s prisoner, Cleopatra takes her own life by allowing an asp (cobra) to bite her. The play ends with Caesar’s arrival to find both lovers dead, and his recognition of their tragic grandeur, ordering them to be buried together with full honors.