Enobarbus: I will tell you. The barge she sat in, like a burnish’d throne, Burned on the water: the poop was beaten gold; Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were lovesick with them; the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, It beggar’d all description: she did lie In her pavilion, cloth-of-gold of tissue, O’erpicturing that Venus where we see The fancy outwork nature: on each side her Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, With divers-colour’d fans, whose wind did seem To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool, And what they undid did. Agrippa: O, rare for Antony. Enobarbus: Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides, So many mermaids, tended her i’ th’ eyes, And made their bends adornings. At the helm A seeming mermaid steers: the silken tackle Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands That yarely frame the office. From the barge A strange invisible perfume hits the sense Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast Her people out upon her; and Antony, Enthroned i’ th’ marketplace, did sit alone, Whistling to th’ air; which, but for vacancy, Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too, And made a gap in nature. Agrippa: Rare Egyptian! Enobarbus: Upon her landing, Antony sent to her, Invited her to supper. She replied It should be better he became her guest; Which she entreated. Our courteous Antony, Whom ne’er the word of “No” woman heard speak, Being barbered ten times o’er, goes to the feast, And for his ordinary, pays his heart For what his eyes eat only. Agrippa: Royal wench! She made great Caesar lay his sword to bed; He plowed her, and she cropped. Enobarbus: I saw her once Hop forty paces through the public street; And having lost her breath, she spoke, and panted, That she did make defect perfection, And, breathless, pow’r breathe forth. Maecenas: Now Antony must leave her utterly. Enobarbus: Never; He will not: Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety. Other women cloy The appetites they feed, but she makes hungry Where most she satisfies; for vilest things Become themselves in her, that the holy priests Bless her when she is riggish.
Robin Williams would have been an amazing Enobarbus. Wouldn't he! Not telling who else I would have in my cast. Ofttimes magic is invisible. My first London West End gig as an actor was playing tiny parts in an Antony and Cleopatra production starring Vanessa Redgrave and Timothy Dalton. How good does life get and how sad when there is seems no 'higher' no matter how hard you try. (In my case there was higher. Eventually. A little.) The calibre of that cast. Oh to be young and carefree. Theater is such a strange beast. It seems totally defunct in a world obsessed with itself. And yet the world was always obsessed with its own moral/financial codes. It is amazing just how powerful still is an Arthur Miller or Eugene O'Neill play. It seems absurd that power. Yet it is one of the realist things you will ever encounter.
May I add that Ms Redgrave has some VERY interesting movies releasing in the next year or so. She is indefatigable- bravely having helmed a documentary Sea Sorrow. She gives hope in and for a world when there seems so little left. To watch the burning truth of her eyes on screen and that burning truth upon the stage. Few actresses can equal that gift.
Now: are you behaving yourself Bette Midler;) ! ? I certainly hope not! ;)
