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.
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.
Naught, naught all, naught! I can behold no longer: The Antoniad, the Egyptian admiral, With all their sixty, fly and turn the rudder: To see't mine eyes are blasted.
Nothing, nothing at all, nothing! I can't watch anymore: The Egyptian admiral, with all sixty of their ships, Is fleeing and steering away: It's so bad I can't bear to see it.
Domitius Enobarbus · Act 3, Scene 10
At the Battle of Actium, Cleopatra's fleet has turned and fled, and Antony has chased after her, abandoning his navy and his victory. Enobarbus watches in horror as the greatest military leader on earth throws away triumph for love. The repetition of naught marks the moment the play's tragic arc becomes irreversible.
Thrice-nobler than myself! Thou teachest me, O valiant Eros, what I should, and thou couldst not. My queen and Eros Have by their brave instruction got upon me A nobleness in record: but I will be A bridegroom in my death, and run into't As to a lover's bed.
You're three times nobler than I am! You've taught me, brave Eros, what I should do, and you couldn't. My queen and Eros Have taught me a nobility worth recording: But I'll be a bridegroom in my death, and run into it As if it were a lover's bed.
Domitius Enobarbus · Act 4, Scene 14
Eros has killed himself rather than obey Antony's command to kill him. Antony learns nobility from his servant's courage and decides to meet death as a lover meets his beloved. The line shows Antony transforming his shame into a final act of will—he will make his death mean something by choosing it.
