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ANTONY

(to THIDIAS ) If that thy father live, let him repent
Thou wast not made his daughter, and be thou sorry
To follow Caesar in his triumph, since
140Thou hast been whipped for following him. Henceforth
The white hand of a lady fever thee;
Shake thou to look on ’t. Get thee back to Caesar.
Tell him thy entertainment. Look thou say
He makes me angry with him, for he seems
145Proud and disdainful, harping on what I am,
Not what he knew I was. He makes me angry,
And at this time most easy ’tis to do ’t,
When my good stars, that were my former guides,
Have empty left their orbs and shot their fires
150Into th’ abysm of hell. If he mislike
My speech and what is done, tell him he has
Hipparchus, my enfranchèd bondman, whom
He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture,
As he shall like, to quit me. Urge it thou.
155Hence with thy stripes, begone!

ANTONY

(to THIDIAS ) If your father is alive, let him be sorry you weren’t born a daughter. And you should be sorry to follow Caesar in his triumphal parade, since you have been whipped for following him. From now on, you should tremble and grow feverish whenever you see the white hand of a lady. Get yourself back to Caesar. Tell him how you’ve been treated. Be sure you tell him he makes me angry with him, because he seems proud and disdainful, harping on what I am now rather than what he knows. He makes me angry—and that’s easy to do right now, now that my lucky stars have abandoned me. If he doesn’t like what I’ve said or done, remind him that he holds Hipparchus, a slave I freed. He may whip, or hang, or torture him as he pleases. Then we will be even. Recommend that to him. Take your whipping scars and go.
Exit THIDIAS
THIDIAS exits.

CLEOPATRA

                                                               Have you done yet?

CLEOPATRA

Are you done yet?

ANTONY

Alack, our terrene moon is now eclipsed,
And it portends alone the fall of Antony.

ANTONY

You, my earthly moon, are now eclipsed, and that alone foretells my ruin.