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Modern Text |
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!
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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.
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Exit
THIDIAS
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THIDIAS
exits.
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CLEOPATRA Have
you done yet?
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CLEOPATRA Are you done yet?
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ANTONY Alack, our terrene moon is now eclipsed,
And it portends alone the fall of Antony.
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ANTONY You, my earthly moon, are now eclipsed, and that alone foretells
my ruin.
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