Pau. True, too true, my lord: If, one by one, you wedded all the world, Or, from the all that are, took fomething good, To make a perfect woman; fhe, you kill'd, Would be unparallel'd.
Leo. I think fo. Kill'd!
She I kill'd! I did fo: but thou ftrik'ft me Sorely, to fay I did; it is as bitter
Upon thy tongue, as in my thought: now, good Say fo but feldom.
Cle. Not at all, good lady:
You might have spoke a thoufand things, that
Have done the time more benefit, and grac'd Your kindness better.
Love more rich for what it gives.
§ 15. ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.
Which in the scuffles of great fights hath burst The buckles in his breaft, reneges all temper; And is become the bellows, and the fan, To cool a giply's luft.
Love, the Nobleness of Life.
Let Rome in Tyber melt! and the wide arch Of the ranged empire fali! here is my pace; Kingdoms are clay: our dungy earth alike Feeds beaft as man: the noblenefs of life is, to do thus; when fuch a mutual pair, And fuch a twain can do 't ; in which, I bind
Leo. I might have look'd upon my queen's full On pain of punishment, the world to weet,
Would the begin a fect, might quench the zeal Of all profeffors elfe; make profelytes Of who the but bid follow.
Anguish of Recollection for a loft Friend. Pr'ythce, no more; cease, thou know'st, He dies to me again, when talk'd of: fure, When I fhall fee this gentleman, thy fpeeches Will bring me to confider that, which may Unfurnish me of reafon.
The bleifed gods Purge all infection from our air, whilst you Do climate here!
What was he, that did make it? See, my lord, Would you not deem it breath'd? and that thofe veins
There is an air comes from her: What fine chifel
Could ever yet cut breath:-Let no man mock For I will kifs her.
Lover's Praife.
Fie, wrangling queen!
Whom every thing becomes, to chide, to laugh, To weep; whofe every paffion fully trives
To make itself, in thee, fair and admir'd!
Great Minds refpe&t Truth.
Mef. The nature of bad news infects the teller. Aut. When it concerns the fool, or coward.- On :
Things that are paft are done, with me 'tis thus: Who tells me true, though in his tale lie death, I hear him as he flatter'd.
Speak to me home, mince not the general tongue; Name Cleopatra as the 's call'd in Rome: Rail thou in Fulvia's phrafe; and tunt my faults With fuch full licence, as both truth and malice Have pow'r to utter. O, then we bring forth weeds When our quick winds lie ftiil; and our ills told us, Is as our caring.
Things loft valued. Forbear me.- There's a great fpirit gone! Thus did I defire it: What our contempts do often hurl from us, We wish it ours again; the prefent pleasure, By revolution lowering, docs become The oppofite of itfelf: the 's good, being gone;" The hand could pluck her back, that fhov'd her on. The Mutability of the People.
me,Whofe love is never lak'd to the deferver, Our flippery people Till his deferts are paft) begin to throw Pompey the Great, and all his dignities, Upon his fon; who, high in name and pow'r, Higher than both in blood and life, ftands up For the main foldier.
Affliction to a penitent Mind, pleafing. Pau. I am forry, Sir, I have thus far ftirr'd you; But I could afflict you further.
Or thou, the greateft foldier of the world, Art turn'd the greatest liar.
Cleopatra's anxious Tenderness.
Ant. I'll leave you, lady.
Ches. Courteous lord, one word.
Sir, you and I muft part-but that's not it :
Cleopatra on the Absence of Antony.
Wherethink it thou he is now? ftands he? or fits he? Or does he walk? or is he on his horfe?
O happy horfe, to bear the weight of Antony! Do bravely, horfe! for wot't thou whom thou mov'ft?
Sir, you and I have lov'd-but there 's not it ;- That you know well: fomething it is I would-The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm O, my oblivion is a very Antony,
And I am all-forgotten.
Cleopatra's Wishes for Antony on parting.
Your honour calls you hence; Therefore be deaf to my unpity'd folly, And all the gods go with you! Upon your fword Sit laurel'd victory! and finooth fuccefs Be ftrew'd before your feet!
Antony's Vices and Virtues.
Lep. I must not think
There are evils enough to darken all his goodness His faults, in him, feem as the fpots of heaven, More fiery by night's blacknefs; hereditary, Rather than purchas'd; what he cannot change,
Caf. You are too indulgent. Let us grant, it
Amifs to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy; To give a kingdom for a mirth; to fit And keep the turn of tipling with a flave; To reel the streets at noon, and ftand the buffet With knaves that smell of fweat: fay, this
And burgonet of man. He 's fpeaking now, Or murmuring, "Where's my ferpent of old Nile?" For fo he calls me; now I feed myself With most delicious poison: think on me That am with Phoebus' amorous pinches black, And wrinkled deep in time! Broad-fronted Cæfar, When thou waft here above the ground, I was A morfel for a monarch; and great Pompey Would ftand, and make his eyes grow in my brow; There would he anchor his afpect, and die With looking on his life.
Meffengers from Lovers, grateful.
How much unlike art thou Mark Antony! Yet, coming from him, that great medicine hath With his tinct gilded thee.
Antony's Love and Difpofition.
Ale. Good friend, quoth he,
Say," the firm Ronian to great Egypt fends This treasure of an oyfter; at whofe foot, To mend the petty prefent, I will piece be-Her opulent throne with kingdoms: all the east, Say thou, fhall call her miftrefs." So he nodded, And foberly did mount an arm-gaunt fteed, Who neigh'd fo high, that what I would have Was beaftly dumb'd by him. [fpoke
(As his compofure must be rare indeed, Whom thefe things cannot blemish) yet muft Antony
No way excufe his foils, when we do bear So great weight in his lightnefs. If he fill'd His vacancy with his voluptuoufnefs, Full furfeits, and the drynefs of his bones, Call on him for 't: but to confound fuch time, That drums him from his fport, and fpeaks as loud As his own ftate, and ours-'tis to be chid As we rate boys; who, being mature in knowledge, Pawn their experience to their prefent pleafure, And fo rebel to judgment.
Cle. Whst, was he fad, or merry? Ale. Like to the time o' th' year, between the
He was not fad; for he would fhine on thofe which feem'd to tell them, his remembrance lay That make their looks by his he was not merry; In Egypt with his joy: but between both O heavenly mingle-Be't thou fad or merry, The violence of either thee becomes; So does it no man elfe.
The Vanity of buman Wiftes.
Pom. If the great gods be juft, they shall affift The deeds of jufteft men.
Men. Know, worthy Pompey, That what they do delay, they not deny. Pom. Whiles we are fuitors to their throne, The thing we fue for. [decays
Men. We, ignorant of ourselves, Beg often our own harms, which the wife pow'rs Deny us for our good; fo find we profit, By lofing of our prayers.
Pompey's Wife for Antony's Captivity in Pleasure.
Pem. I know, they are in Rome together, Looking for Antony: but all the charms of love,
Defcription of Cleopatra's failing down the Cydnus.I The barge fhe fat in, like a burnifh'd throne, Burn'd on the water: the poop was beaten gold, Purple the fails, and fo perfumed, that The winds were love-fick with them: th' oars were filver;
Which to the tune of flutes kept ftroke, and made The water which they beat, to follow fafter, As amorous of their ftrokes. For her own perfon, It beggar'd all description: she did lie In her pavilion (cloth of gold, of tiflue), O'er-picturing that Venus, where we see The fancy out-work nature. On each fide her Stood pretty dimpled boys, like fmiling Cupids, With divers-colour'd fans, whofe wind did feem To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
And what they undid, did.
Apr. O are for Antony!
Eno. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereids, So many mermaids, tended her 1' th' cyes, And made their bands adornings. At the helm, A feeming mermaid freers; the filken tackle Swell with the touches of thofe flow'r-foft hands, That yarely frame the office. From the barge A ftrange invifi le perfume hits the fente . Of the adjacent wharf. The city caft Her people our upon her; and Antony, Enthron'd i'th male t-place, did fit alone, Whistling to th' all, which, but for vacancy, Had gone to graze & Cleopatia too, And made a g. in natare,
Cleopatra's infinite Power in pleafing. Age cannot wither her, nor cuftom itale Her infinite variety: other women cloy The appetites they feed; but the makes hungry, Where moft the fatisfies. For vileft things Becomes themfelves in her, that the holy pricfts Blefs her when the is riggifh.
The unfettled Humour of Lovers.
Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Alexar. Cleo. Give me fome mufic; mufic, moody food Of us that trade in love.
Omnes. The mufic, ho!
Enter Mardian the Eunuch.
Cico. Let it alone: let 's to billiards: come, Charmian.
Char. My arm is fore, beft play with Mardian. Cleo. As well a woman with an euruch play'd, As with a woman; come--you'll play with me, fir? Mar. As well as I can, madam. [too short,
Cleo. And when good will is thew'd,tho' it come The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now:- My mufic playing far off, I will betray Give me mine angle-we 'll to the river: there, Tawny-finn'd fithes; my bended hook fhall pierce Their flimy jaws; and, as I draw them up, I'll think them every one an Antony, And fay, Ah ha! you are caught.
Char. 'Twas merry, when
You wager'd on your angling; when your diver Did hang a falt-fish on his hook, which he With fervency drew up.
Cleo. That time!-O times!
laugh'd him out of patience; and that night I laugh'd him into patience: and next morn, Ere the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed, Then put iny tires and mantles on him, whilst I wore his fword Philippan.
Ambition, jealous of a too fuccessful Friend. O Silius, Silius!
I have done enough: a lower place, note well, May make too great an act: for learn this, Silius; Better to leave undone, than by our deed Acquire too high a fame,when him we ferve's away. O&avia's Entrance, what it should have been. Why have you ftoi'n upon us thus? You come Like Cæfar's fifter: the wife of Antony Should have an army for an ufher, and
The neighs of horfe to tel of her approach, Long ere the did appear: the trees by th' way Should have borne inen; and expectation fainted, Longing for what it had not: nay, the duft Should have afcended to the roof of heaven, Rais'd by your populous troops. But you are come The oftentation of our love, which, left unthewn, A market-maid to Rome; and have prevented Is often left unlov'd; we should have met you By fea, and land; fupplying ev'ry ftage With an augmented greeting.
In their beft fortunes ftrong; but want will perjure The ne'er-touch'd veftal.
Fortune forms our Judgment.
I fee, men's judgments are
A marrel of their fortunes; and things outward Do draw the inward quality after them, To fuffer all alike
Mine honey and I begin to fquare. The loyalty, well held to fools, does make Our faith mere folly: yet, he that can endure To follow with allegiance a fall'n lord, Des conquer hin that did his matter conquer, And earus a place i' the ftory.
Wildom fuperior to Fortune.
Willom and tortune, combating together, If that the former dare but what it can, No chrace may shake it.
Vicious Perfons infatuated by Heaven. When we in our vicioufnefs grow hard, (0 mifery en 't!) the wife gods feel our eyes Jaourown filth. drop our clear judgments, make us Awore our errors; laugh at us, while we ftrut To our confufion.
Now he'll outftare the lightning. To be furious Is, to be frighted out of fear: and, in that mood, The dove will peck the cftridge; and I fee fill A dination in our captain's brain Reitores his heart: when valour preys on reafon, It eats the fword it fights with.
A Mafter taking Leave of bis Servants. Tend me to-night;
May be, it is the period of your duty: Haply, you shall not fee me more; or if,- A mingled fhadow, Perchance to-morrow You'll ferve another mafter.
As one that takes his leave. Mine honeft friends, I turn you not away; but, like a mafter, Married to your good fervice, ftay till death: Ted me to-night two hours, I afk no more, And the gods yield you for 't.
Early rifing the Way to Eminence. This morning, like the fpirit of a youth That means to be of note, begins betimes. Antony to Cleopatra, at bis Return with Victory. O, thou day o' th' world,
Chain mine arm'd neck; leap thou, attire and all, Thro' proof of harnefs to my heart, and there Ride on the pants triumphing.
O fovereign miftrefs of true melancholy, The poisonous damp of night difpunge upon me; That life, a very rebel to my will, May hang no longer on me.
The foul and body rive not more in parting, Than greatness going off.
Antony on his faded Glory.
Ant. Sometime, we fee a cloud that's dragonifh; A vapour, fometime, like a bear, or lion, A rower'd citadel, a pendant rock,
A forked mountain, or blue promontory, With trees upon 't, that nod unto the world, And mock our eyes with air:-Thou haft feen thefe figas;
They are black vefper's pageants. Eros. Ay, my lord.
Ant. That, which is now a horfe, even with a thought
The rack diflimns, and makes it indiftinct, As water is in water.
Eros. It does, my lord.
Ant. My good knave, Eros, now thy captain is Even fuch a body: here I am Antony, Yet cannot hold this vifible fhape, my knave. I made thefe wars for Egypt; and the Queen, Whofe heart I thought I had, for the had mine, Which, whilft it was mine, had annex'd unto 't A million more, now loft; the, Eros, has Pack'd cards with Cæfar, and falfe play'd my glory Unto an enemy's triumph.
Nay, weep not, gentle Eros; there is left us Ourfelves to end ourselves.
Defcription of Cleopatra's (fuppofed) Death. Death of one perfon can be paid but once; And that he has difcharg'd. What thou wouldst Is done unto thy hand; the laft she fpake [do, Was Antony! moft noble Antony! Then in the midft a tearing groan did break The name of Antony; it was divided Between her heart and lips: the render'd life, Thy name fo buried in her.
Cleopatra on the Death of Antony. It were for me
To throw my fceptre at th' injurious gods; To tell them, that this world did equal theirs, Till they had ftol'n our jewel. All's but naught; Patience is fottifh; and impatience does Become a dog that 's mad: then is it fin, To rush into the fecret houfe of death, Ere death dare come to us? How do you, women? What, what good cheer! Why, how now, Charmian?
My noble girls!-Ah women, women! Look, Our lamp is fpent, it's out:-Good firs, take heart: fnoble,
We'll bury him: and then, what 's brave, what's Let's do it after the high Roman fashion, And make death proud to take us. Come away: This cafe of that huge fpirit now is cold.
My defolation does begin to make A better life: 'tis paltry to be Cæfar; Not being fortune, he 's but fortune's knave, A minifter of her will; and it is great To do that thing that ends all other deeds;
Dol. If it might please you,Cleo. His face was as the heavens; and thereA fun and moon; which kept their courfe, and The little O, the earth,
Dol. Moft fovereign creature,Cleo. His legs beftrid the ocean: his rear'd arm Crefted the world; his voice was propertied As all the tuned fpheres, and that to friends; But when he meant to quail and shake the orb, He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty, There was no winter in 't; an autumn 'twas That grew the more by reaping: his delights Were dolphin-like; they fhew'd his back above The element they liv'd in; in his livery Walk'd crowns and crownets; realms and iflands As plates dropt from his pocket. [were
Firm Refolution.
What poor an inftrument
May do a noble deed he brings me liberty. My refolution 's plac'd, and I have nothing Of woman in me: now from head to foot I am marble conftant: now the fleeting moon No planet is of mine.
Cleopatra's Speech on apthing the Aip. Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have Immortal longings in me. Now no more The juice of Egypt's grape fhall moift this lip: Yare, yare, good Iras; quick-methinks, I hear Antony call; I fee him roufe himself To praife my noble act: I hear him mock The luck of Cæfar, which the gods give men T'excuse their after wrath. Husband, I come: Now to that name, my courage, prove my title! I am fire, and air; my other elements I give to bafer life. So,-have you done? Come then, and take the laft warmth of my lips: Farewell, kind Charmian; Iras, long farewell. [Kies them. Iras falls and dies.
Have I the afpic in my lips? Dot fall? If thou and nature can fo gently part, The ftroke of death is as a lover's pinch, Which hurts, and is defired. Doft thou lie ftill? If thus thou vanifheft, thou tell'ft the world It is not worth leave-taking.
Char. Dillolve, thick cloud, and rain; that I may The gods themselves do weep.
Cico. This proves me bafe:
§ 16. CORIOLANUS. SHAKSPEARE. Mob.
HAT would you have, you curs!
That like nor peace nor war? The one affrights you,
The other makes you proud. He that trufts to you, Where he thould find you lions, finds you hares, Where foxes, geefe: you are no furer, no, Than is the coal of fire upon the ice,
Or hail-ftone in the fun. Your virtue is, To make him worthy, whofe offence fubdues him, And curfe that juftice did it. Who deferves greatnefs,
Deferves your hate: and your affections are
A fick man's appetite, who defires most that Which would increafe his evil. He that depends Upon your favours, fwims with fins of lead, And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye!- truft ye?
With every minute you do change a mind; And call him noble, that was now your hate, Him. vile that was your garland.
Aufidius's Hatred to Coriolanus.
-Not fleep, nor fanctuary, Being naked, fick; nor fane, nor capitol, The prayers of prefts, nor times of facrifice, Their rotten privilege and cuftom 'gainst Embarquements all of fury, shall lift up My hate to Marcius. Where I find him, were it At home, upon my brother's guard, ev'n there, Wath my fierce hand in his heart. Against the hofpitable canon, would I
An imaginary Defcription of Criolanus warring. Methinks, I hear hither your husband's drum; Sce him pluck Aufidius down by the hair; As children from a bear, the Volfci fhunning him:
Methinks I fee him ftamp thus,-and call thus,- "Come on, ye cowards! ye were got in fear, Though ye were born in Rome:" his bloody brow With his mail'd hand then wiping, forth he goes
Like to a harveft man, that 's talk'd to mow Or all, or lofe his hire.
Virg. His bloody brow! Oh, Jupiter, no blood!
Vol. Away, you fool! it more becomes a man, Than gilt his Trophy: The breafts of Hecuba, When the did fuckle Hector, look'd not lovelier Than Hector's forehead, when it spit forth blood At Grecian fiords contending.
Doing our Duty merits not Praife. Pray, now no more: my mother, Who has a charter to extol her boj, Who
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