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.
Age can't wither her, nor habit dull Her endless variety: other women tire The appetites they satisfy: but she leaves you hungry Even as she fills you up; for even the lowest things Become divine in her: the holy priests Bless her even when she's scandalous.
Domitius Enobarbus · Act 2, Scene 2
Enobarbus describes Cleopatra to astonished Romans in language that has haunted readers for four centuries. The speech defends Antony's loss by making it inevitable—she is not a woman but a force of nature, a paradox that satisfies by denying satisfaction. It is the play's most lavish tribute to the power of feminine allure, and it proves Enobarbus right: we understand how a soldier can lose the world for her.
I am not married, Caesar: let me hear Agrippa further speak.
I'm not married, Caesar: let me hear Agrippa speak some more.
Mark Antony · Act 2, Scene 2
Agrippa has just proposed that Antony marry Octavius Caesar's sister Octavia to bind the triumvirs together. Antony's denial that he is married to Cleopatra is technically true but spiritually false—he belongs to Egypt already. The line marks the moment Antony chooses the political marriage that will fail, setting him on the path to ruin.
The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water: the poop was beaten gold; Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick 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.
The barge she was in, like a shining throne, Burned on the water: the back was pure gold; The sails were purple, and so fragrant that The winds seemed to fall in love with them; the oars were silver, And kept rhythm to the sound of flutes, making The water they rowed faster, as if it wanted to follow them.
Domitius Enobarbus · Act 2, Scene 2
This is the opening of Enobarbus's legendary account of Cleopatra's first meeting with Antony on the river Cydnus. The poetry itself performs the seduction—everything glows, moves, and yearns toward her. The line establishes that Antony's fall is not a failure of will but surrender to beauty so absolute it animates the natural world itself.