The Plays of Shakespeare, Volume 15

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Doubleday & McClure Company, 1897
 

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Page 54 - The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water ; the poop was beaten gold, Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them, the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes.
Page 175 - tis most certain, Iras. Saucy lictors Will catch at us, like strumpets ; and scald rhymers Ballad us out o' tune : the quick comedians Extemporally will stage us, and present Our Alexandrian revels : Antony Shall be brought drunken forth, and I shall see Some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness I
Page 178 - Give me my robe, put on my crown ; I have Immortal longings in me : Now no more The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip : — Yare, yare ', good Iras ; quick.
Page 115 - 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 Does conquer him that did his master conquer, And earns a place i* the story.
Page 56 - Never; he will not; Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety : Other women cloy The appetites they feed ; but she makes hungry Where most she satisfies. For vilest things Become themselves in her ; that the holy priests Bless her when she is riggish.
Page 146 - My good knave Eros, now thy captain is Even such a body. Here I am Antony; Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave. I made these wars for Egypt; and the Queen, — Whose heart I thought I had, for she had mine; Which whilst it was mine had annex'd unto't A million more, now lost, — she, Eros, has Pack'd cards with Caesar, and false-play'd my glory Unto an enemy's triumph.
Page 146 - Sometime, we see a cloud that's dragonish, A vapour, sometime, like a bear, or lion, A tower'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 hast seen these signs; They are black vesper's pageants.
Page 157 - O, wither'd is the garland of the war, The soldier's pole is fall'n : young boys and girls Are level now with men ; the odds is gone, And there is nothing left remarkable Beneath the visiting moon.
Page 54 - So many mermaids, tended her i' the eyes, And made their bends adornings: at the helm A seeming mermaid steers: the silken tackle Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands, That yarely frame the office. From the barge A strange invisible perfume hits the sense Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast Her people out upon her; and Antony, Enthroned i...
Page 60 - Give me mine angle, we'll to the river; there, My music playing far off, I will betray Tawny-finn'd fishes; my bended hook shall pierce Their slimy jaws; and, as I draw them up, I'll think them every one an Antony, And say, "Ah, ha! you're caught.

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