Ah, this thou shouldst have done, And not have spoke on’t! In me ’tis villany; In thee’t had been good service. Thou must know, ’Tis not my profit that does lead mine honour; Mine honour, it. Repent that e’er thy tongue Hath so betray’d thine act: being done unknown, I should have found it afterwards well done; But must condemn it now. Desist, and drink.
Ah, you should have done this, And not talked about it! For me, it would have been dishonorable; But for you, it would have been a good deed. You must understand, It’s not my gain that drives my honor; It’s my honor that drives me. You should regret ever mentioning Your plan: if it had been done quietly, I would have found it well done later; But now I must condemn it. Stop, and drink.
Pompey · Act 2, Scene 7
Pompey rebukes Menas for offering to betray Caesar and Antony, saying the act would have been service if Menas had done it in silence, but villany now that it is spoken. The exchange persists because it reveals Pompey's moral code: he wants power, but not at the cost of explicit betrayal. He chooses honor over the world, and loses both.
These three world-sharers, these competitors, Are in thy vessel: let me cut the cable; And, when we are put off, fall to their throats: All there is thine.
These three men who share the world, these rivals, Are on your ship: let me cut the rope; And when we’re free, we can attack them: Everything they have will be yours.
Menas · Act 2, Scene 7
Menas offers to kill Caesar, Antony, and Lepidus on Pompey's ship and give him the world. The proposal lands because it shows how close the play comes to a different ending—how fragile the balance of power is, how easily it could tip. It reveals that ambition and betrayal are never far apart, and that loyalty is always just one murder away from becoming treachery.
Wilt thou be lord of all the world?
Do you want to be the ruler of the whole world?
Menas · Act 2, Scene 7
Menas asks Pompey if he wants to rule the world, offering him the means. The question cuts because it names the secret ambition that drives the play's action—every man here wants to be lord of all. It shows how easily power corrupts language itself, turning murder and betrayal into a simple question about desire.
