He calls me boy, and chides as he had power
To beat me out of Egypt. My messenger
He hath whipped with rods; dares me to personal combat,
Caesar to Antony. Let the old ruffian know
I have many other ways to die; meantime
Laugh at his challenge.
He calls me boy, and chides as he had power To beat me out of Egypt. My messenger He hath whipped with rods; dares me to personal combat, Caesar to Antony. Let the old ruffian know I have many other ways to die; meantime Laugh at his challenge.
He calls me boy, and chides as he had power To beat me out of Egypt. My messenger He hath whipped with rods; dares me to personal combat, Caesar to Antony. Let the old ruffian know I have many other ways to die; meantime Laugh at his challenge.
he calls me boy, and chides as he had power to beat me out of egypt. my messenger he hath whipped with rods; dares me to personal combat, caesar to an
Caesar's 'Poor Antony' is one of the most loaded two-word exits in the play. It is not mocking — it is pitying. Caesar is not cruel; he is comprehensive. He has already moved past the challenge, past the battle, past Antony — he's thinking about the feast and the logistics and the final campaign. 'Poor Antony' is the thought of a man who has won and is tidying up. What makes it interesting is that Caesar is also, in some sense, right: Antony is to be pitied, not feared. The tragedy is that a man this magnificent should end by being pitied by the man who bested him.
Caesar must think,
When one so great begins to rage, he’s hunted
Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now
Make boot of his distraction. Never anger
Made good guard for itself.
Caesar must think, When one so great begins to rage, he’s hunted Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now Make boot of his distraction. Never anger Made good guard for itself.
Caesar must think, When one so great begins to rage, he’s hunted Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now Make boot of his distraction. Never anger Made good guard for itself.
caesar must think, when one so great begins to rage, he’s hunted even to falling. give him no breath, but now make boot of his distraction. never ange
Let our best heads
Know that tomorrow the last of many battles
We mean to fight. Within our files there are,
Of those that served Mark Antony but late,
Enough to fetch him in. See it done,
And feast the army; we have store to do’t,
And they have earned the waste. Poor Antony!
Let our best heads Know that tomorrow the last of many battles We mean to fight. Within our files there are, Of those that served Mark Antony but late, Enough to fetch him in. See it done, And feast the army; we have store to do’t, And they have earned the waste. Poor Antony!
Let our best heads Know that tomorrow the last of many battles We mean to fight. Within our files there are, Of those that served Mark Antony but late, Enough to fetch him in. See it done, And feast the army; we have store to do’t, And they have earned the waste. Poor Antony!
let our best heads know that tomorrow the last of many battles we mean to fight. within our files there are, of those that served mark antony but late
The Reckoning
A brief, cold scene of winning. Caesar doesn't rage at Antony's challenge — he laughs. Then he feeds his army on the men who used to serve Antony. The phrase 'Poor Antony!' as the final word of the scene is Caesar's truest self: not cruelty, but a kind of efficient pity for a man he has already defeated in his mind.
If this happened today…
The winning bidder in an acquisition hears that the old CEO sent a personal challenge to a public debate. He chuckles, shows it to his advisor. 'Should we respond?' 'Of course not.' 'Good. Throw a party for the staff — the ones who transferred over.' He signs off on the catering order. 'Poor guy,' he says, walking out.