That you know well: something it is I would,—
O, my oblivion is a very Antony,
And I am all forgotten.[217]
(i. iii. 86.)
But thence again she passes on the instant to grave and quiet dignity:
All the gods go with you! upon your sword
Sit laurel victory! and smooth success
Be strew’d before your feet!
(i. iii. 99.)
It is the unexpectedness of her transitions, the impossibility of foreseeing what she will say or do, the certainty that whatever she says or does will be a surprise, that keeps Antony and everyone else in perpetual agitation.[218] Tranquillity and dullness fly at the sound of her name. Her love relies on provocation in both senses of the word, and to a far greater extent in Shakespeare than in Plutarch. Thus Plutarch tells how Octavius’ expedition in occupying Toryne caused dismay among Antony’s troops: “But Cleopatra making light of it: ‘And what daunger, I pray you,’ said she, ‘if Caesar keepe at Toryne?’” On which North has the long marginal note: