In act 1, scene 3 the Queen reveals herself to be an actress of formidable range, feigning illness, turning Antony’s words against him, taunting and perversely misbelieving him, while making false accusations to her own advantage. Her intentions in this scene are clear, telling Charmian that if she ‘should find him sad’, tell Antony she is dancing, and if she should find him happy, that she is ‘sudden sick’. As Antony enters she begins to use all her wiles to prevent him from leaving. Her capriciousness is evident throughout, protesting she is ‘sick and sullen’, pretending faintness and asking Charmian to help her away, before telling Antony to stand further away from her. She taunts him, accusing him of hearing good news from Fulvia, whom she contemptuously describes as ‘the married woman’, cutting into and completing his lines of blank verse. She gives Antony no opportunity to talk about his departure as she declares she is ‘mightily betrayed.’ Antony has sworn false love to Fulvia and to herself in ‘made-mouth vows’, which involve only his lips, not his heart. As Antony tries to speak, she dismisses him and derisively reminds him of the hyperbolic language he had used when he first wooed her, describing the timeless beauty of her face by declaring ‘eternity was in our lips and eyes, bliss in our brows bent’, and her divine origin, with the words ‘none our parts so poor but was a race of heaven.’ Now Cleopatra has again shown her high intelligence, because either she is just as beautiful now, or Antony is a rotten liar.
Cleopatra’s loss of control in act 2, scene 5 shows not only her tempestuous nature but also the true extent of her feelings for Antony. The scene begins with the Queen fondly recalling experiences with Antony. She had out-drunk him, dressed him up in her clothes and worn his sword, with which he had won the battle of Philippi. Her daydreaming and the sudden interruption that follows set up an antithesis between her fantasizing and the harsh reality of what has just happened. A messenger arrives and Cleopatra immediately fears the worst, asking if her lover is dead. Her emotions swing wildly as she first says that such news would kill her, then says that she will give gold and offer her hand for the messenger to kiss if he reports that Antony is alive. Her volatile emotions are shown in her response to the messenger’s reassurance that Antony is alive. The messenger tries to give his news but Cleopatra is caught up in her own fears. She declares the messenger’s face looks too ‘tart’ to report good news, and then says that if the news is bad he should come ‘like a fury’. Again he tries to deliver his report, and again Cleopatra unleashes a torrent of threats and promises of reward, one moment seeming about to strike him, the next promising to set him in ‘a shower of gold’ and give him rich pearls. The messenger delivers his news in small snippets- that Antony is well, and friendlier with Caesar than before. Despite the happy reception of each of these pieces of news, the messenger is aware he must get to his main point that will undoubtedly provoke the Queen’s ungovernable wrath once more. Two short lines create a fantastic moment of suspense- the messenger attempts to push on to the bad news that Antony has married Octavia with the words ‘but yet, madam’, to which Cleopatra replies ‘I do not like but yet.’ The audience savours the anticipation of the fury that is about to descend on this hapless messenger. The Queen embroiders on her distaste for ‘But yet’, gives a quick recap of what she has gathered so far and finally demands the messenger should make all clear. Shakespeare strings out the suspense a little longer, leading up to the messenger’s admission that Antony is bound to Octavia ‘for the best turn i’th’bed’. The long, drawn out delivery of this information has a cataclysmic effect on Cleopatra: ‘The most infectious pestilence upon thee!’ A hectic scene unfolds, with Cleopatra striking and throwing abuse at the messenger, threatening to tear out his eyes and ‘unhair’ his head. She seizes him and drags him around by the hair, still shrieking dire threats, such as ‘thou shalt be whipped with wire, and stewed in brine.’ The messenger’s all too reasonable reply, still addressing her as ‘gracious madam’, stands in marked contrast to Cleopatra’s inflamed language. But she is still completely possessed by her ever-changing emotions. She promises to make the messenger the ruler of a province if only he will say it is not so. Having once again confirmed that Antony is married, she draws a knife and threatens to kill him, but he fortunately escapes, leaving Charmian to reason with her. She reminds her that the messenger is innocent, but even her friend comes under the same ‘hairdryer treatment’, the Queen stating that ‘some innocents scape not the thunderbolt.’ Her mood does gradually calm, yet struggling to control her temper once more upon the return of the messenger she explodes ‘the gods confound thee.’ She finally accepts the reality that she has lost her lover, and lets fly a searing curse upon her own country, showing the sheer magnitude of her rage: ‘so half my Egypt were submerged and made a cistern for scaled snakes!’ The Queen comments on how ugly the messenger appears to her, and twice demands to have him confirm that Antony is married. She at last dismisses him with a wish that he be ruined by the news he has brought. Her passionate hysteria subsides, but she continues to display the self-obsessed, capricious aspects of her personality, praising her old love, Julius Caesar, above Antony. Her controlling nature is also shown when she sends Alexas to question the messenger about Octavia’s looks, age and temperament, wanting to know everything about the rival whom she thinks has stolen Antony from her, meticulously adding a final detail, ‘let him not leave out the colour of her hair.’ Her violent mood swings return as she wishes Antony gone forever, then immediately revokes it. In a striking antithetical image to round of the scene, the Queen says that ‘he (Antony) be painted one way like a Gorgon, the other way’s a Mars.’ The opposition of ‘Gorgon’ and ‘Mars’ symbolizes Cleopatra’s character just as much as Antony’s. The complexities of her character emerge again in the parting command she delivers, that Alexas also find out just how tall Octavia is, the wish to know another seemingly trivial detail just one small part of Cleopatra’s infinite variety. What can be gathered about Cleopatra in this one scene is almost as much as the rest of the first two acts. Just before the messenger appears on stage Cleopatra could be perceived as genuinely in love, or at least showing signs of being so, wistfully reminiscing about good times she has had with Antony. By the end of the scene, the audience could be forgiven for forgetting about this brief display of affection; Cleopatra has been through a frenzied, violent rage, attacking an innocent messenger and (in performance) raising her voice to one of her closest friends. We have already seen signs of her high intelligence (and abuse thereof), manipulation and self absorbed nature in the scenes leading up to the end of act 2, all in all moulding a character who thus far has been shown to be brilliant in so many ways, yet equally terrifying.
Shakespeare presents the strength of Cleopatra’s determination in act 3, scene 7, as Enobarbus attempts to dissuade her from joining Antony in the battlefield. Despite being told that in Rome, Antony, already criticized for his frivolity, is mocked for handing over his command to women and a eunuch, she hyperbolically dismisses his opinion by saying ‘Sink Rome, and their tongues rot that speak against us’. This scene also contains the only incidence of Cleopatra lacking sexual awareness, not recognizing the euphemism provided by Enobarbus that to have stallions and mares serving together in war invites disaster, as the stallions will only be interested in copulating (although the shock embedded in her response ‘what is’t you say’ could be spoken with sarcasm in performance). This display of determination on Cleopatra’s part allows Shakespeare to emphasise the level of blame placed on the Queen by both Enobarbus and Scarus for the first defeat at Actium, which we are told about in scene 10. Enobarbus’ anguished words ‘th’antoniad, the Egyptian admiral, with all their sixty, fly and turn the rudder’ immediately place the blame on the lovers. Scarus confirms the defeat, and his image ‘we have kissed away kingdoms and provinces’ immediately lays the blame squarely on the mutual infatuation of Antony and Cleopatra. He focuses more on Cleopatra, labelling her ‘ribaudred nag of Egypt’ and later likening her flight to that of a maddened cow stung by a gadfly (‘breeze’). However, in scene 13 when she asks whose fault it is, Enobarbus says ‘Antony only, that would make his will lord of his reason.’ However, his opinion disagrees with the many examples we see throughout the play of Shakespeare presenting Cleopatra as the dominant force in their relationship, thereby arguably also the one to blame for his downfall, since she is the one who ‘pulls the strings’. Indeed, in the opening scene Antony is referred to by Philo as a ‘strumpet’s fool’, a term which bears connotations of a lack of control on Antony’s part. Shakespeare seems again to want to show the Queen’s dominance early on, as in act 1, scene 2, Enobarbus jokes, ‘hush, here comes Antony’, mocking Antony’s lack of power within the relationship. As a tragedy, one of the major questions Shakespeare asks of the audience is whether Antony is to blame for his downfall, or whether he was simply a victim of his fatal flaw. The presentation of Cleopatra as the more dominant force in their relationship is an important factor in this decision.
Cleopatra is endlessly described or discussed by other characters. Enobarbus speaks of her ‘infinite variety’. For Antony, she can be an ‘enchanting queen’ or ‘foul Egyptian’; for Charmian, a ‘lass unparalleled’; for Caesar, ‘dear queen’ to her face and ‘whore’ behind her back. Her actions and words display a similarly mercurial range: bravery and cowardice, cruelty and gentleness. Taunting mockery, deviousness, capriciousness, pride, self-indulgence and humility are only a fraction of her infinite variety. At the end of the play she achieves a kind of spendour in her suicide as she strives to fulfil her immortal longings: a reunion with Antony, transcending death itself. It may be an illusion, yet another of the grandiose fantasies she constructs of herself and Antony, but it is thrillingly theatrical, and a dramatically satisfying climax to the rollercoasting emotional ride on which she takes the audience. There are numerous ways of interpreting how Shakespeare wished to present Cleopatra: the archetypal femme fatale, a wily politician, or a cunning charmer. She uses all her considerable skills to retain control of her country, and when that endeavour fails, exercises her independence in choosing death rather than humilation. In her paradoxical behaviour, we see the complex strategies of a woman who has to prosper in a male, militaristic world. In creating Cleopatra, Shakespeare offers the audience many opportunities to reflect on such themes as the nature of love, the exercise of power in personal and political relationships, and the conflicts that ensue in such relationships. The play’s constant movement, its recurring images of melting and dissolution, find their reflection in Cleopatra’s mercurial nature, and in her final attempt to transcend earthly bonds and achieve immortal union with Antony.