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Shakespeare's Monologues



Antony — “Since Cleopatra died,I have liv'd in such dishonour, that the gods” — Antony & Cleopatra, Act 4, Scene 12, line 69



Antony & Cleopatra Play summary   ·IV xii 69Scene summary  · Verse
Antony

Antony. Since Cleopatra died,
I have lived in such dishonour, that the gods
Detest my baseness. I, that with my sword
Quarter'd the world, and o'er green Neptune's back
With ships made cities, condemn myself to lack
The courage of a woman; less noble mind
Than she which by her death our Caesar tells
'I am conqueror of myself.' Thou art sworn, Eros,
That, when the exigent should come, which now
Is come indeed, when I should see behind me
The inevitable prosecution of
Disgrace and horror, that, on my command,
Thou then wouldst kill me: do't; the time is come:
Thou strikest not me, 'tis Caesar thou defeat'st.
Put colour in thy cheek.

Eros. The gods withhold me!
Shall I do that which all the Parthian darts,
Though enemy, lost aim, and could not?


Antony.
Eros,   
Wouldst thou be window'd in great Rome and see
Thy master thus with pleach'd arms, bending down
His corrigible neck, his face subdued
To penetrative shame, whilst the wheel'd seat
Of fortunate Caesar, drawn before him, branded
His baseness that ensued?

Eros. I would not see't.

Antony. Come, then; for with a wound I must be cured.
Draw that thy honest sword, which thou hast worn
Most useful for thy country.
Modern paraphrasing 👆 Click for a double-spaced PDF of this monologue

Original: Since Cleopatra died,
Modern: Ever since Cleopatra died,

Original: I have lived in such dishonour, that the gods
Modern: I have lived in such shame that the gods

Original: Detest my baseness. I, that with my sword
Modern: Hate my cowardice. I, who with my sword

Original: Quarter’d the world, and o’er green Neptune’s back
Modern: Conquered the world, and across the green ocean

Original: With ships made cities, condemn myself to lack
Modern: Created fleets like floating cities, now condemn myself for lacking

Original: The courage of a woman; less noble mind
Modern: The courage of a woman; having a less noble spirit

Original: Than she which by her death our Caesar tells
Modern: Than she who by her death tells our Caesar

Original: ‘I am conqueror of myself.’ Thou art sworn, Eros,
Modern: ‘I have conquered myself.’ You have sworn to me, Eros,

Original: That, when the exigent should come, which now
Modern: That when the urgent moment should arrive, which now

Original: Is come indeed, when I should see behind me
Modern: Has truly come, when I would see behind me

Original: The inevitable prosecution of
Modern: The unavoidable pursuit of

Original: Disgrace and horror, that, on my command,
Modern: Disgrace and horror, that upon my command,

Original: Thou then wouldst kill me: do’t; the time is come:
Modern: You would then kill me: do it; the time has come:

Original: Thou strikest not me, ‘tis Caesar thou defeat’st.
Modern: You’re not striking me, you’re defeating Caesar.

Original: Put colour in thy cheek.
Modern: Get some courage in your face.

Original: Eros,
Modern: Eros,

Original: Wouldst thou be window’d in great Rome and see
Modern: Would you want to be looking out a window in great Rome and see

Original: Thy master thus with pleach’d arms, bending down
Modern: Your master with arms bound together, bowing down

Original: His corrigible neck, his face subdued
Modern: His surrendering neck, his face overcome

Original: To penetrative shame, whilst the wheel’d seat
Modern: With piercing shame, while the wheeled chariot

Original: Of fortunate Caesar, drawn before him, branded
Modern: Of victorious Caesar, pulled in front of him, marked

Original: His baseness that ensued?
Modern: The cowardice that followed?

Original: Come, then; for with a wound I must be cured.
Modern: Come then; I must be healed by a wound.

Original: Draw that thy honest sword, which thou hast worn
Modern: Draw that faithful sword of yours, which you have carried

Original: Most useful for thy country.
Modern: So usefully for your country.

Antony & Cleopatra — Act IV, Scene xii

In this scene, Antony receives word that his naval forces have surrendered to Caesar without a fight, and he becomes convinced that Cleopatra has betrayed him by secretly negotiating with the enemy. Enraged and devastated, Antony turns his fury toward Cleopatra, vowing to punish her for what he believes is her treachery. He curses her bitterly, declaring that the trust he placed in her has cost him everything, and he calls upon the gods to witness his wrath. His soldiers and attendants observe his violent emotional state, and the scene captures Antony at perhaps his most unraveled, his military identity stripped away and his personal loyalties shattered in his own mind.

Cleopatra enters and Antony confronts her with explosive anger, threatening her with dire consequences and speaking in language that is both furious and grief-stricken. Fearing for her life, Cleopatra retreats, and her attendants urge her to lock herself away for her own safety. Antony’s rage continues to build even as she withdraws, and he speaks of his ruined honor and the totality of his losses. The scene ends with Cleopatra sending her attendant Mardian to Antony with a false message that she has taken her own life, a desperate measure intended to pacify his fury and turn his anger back into love.

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.