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 scolds as if he had the power to drive me out of Egypt. He whipped my messenger with rods and dares me to fight him personally—Caesar against Antony. Let that old ruffian know I have many other ways to die; in the meantime, let's laugh at his challenge.
He's calling me boy and acting like he can kick me out of Egypt. He beat up my messenger and now he's daring me to a one-on-one fight. Tell that old bum I've got plenty of other ways to go—meanwhile, let's just laugh at this stupid challenge.
he called me boy whipped my messenger challenges me to fight that old ruffian let's laugh at him
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 should understand that when someone so powerful grows angry, he's being driven toward his fall. Don't give him time to breathe; exploit his distraction now. Anger never defends itself well.
Caesar needs to remember that when a powerful guy gets furious, he's heading for a crash. Don't let him catch his breath—use how crazy he's getting right now. Anger is terrible at protecting you.
when the powerful get angry they're heading for a fall don't give him time to breathe use his rage against him
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 commanders know that tomorrow we're fighting the last of many battles. Among our forces we have enough men who recently served Antony to capture him. Make it happen, and give the army a feast—we have plenty to spare and they've earned it. Poor Antony!
Tell our best officers that tomorrow is the last battle we'll fight. We've got enough soldiers in our ranks who used to serve Antony that we can bring him down. Make it happen and throw a feast for the army—we've got plenty of food and they deserve it. Poor guy.
tomorrow is the final battle we have enough former antony soldiers to capture him feast the army they've earned it
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.