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Adam Alex Antony appear Arim arms Aureng-Zebe base Beam bear beauty better bring Cæsar cause Cleo Cleopatra comes command confess dare death desire Dola Dryden English Enter Exit eyes face fair fall fate fear fight Fisc force fortune give hand happy haste head hear heard heart heaven honour hope I'll Isab judge keep kind king least leave less live look lord lost Lucif mean mind Morat move nature never Nour once pain past pity play pleased poet praise reason receive rise Roman ruin scene seems shew sight soul speak stand stay sure tell thee things thou thought Towerson true turn twas Vent virtue wish
Page 171 - tis all a cheat; Yet, fooled with hope, men favour the deceit; Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay: To-morrow's falser than the former day; Lies worse, and, while it says, we shall be blest With some new joys, cuts off what we possest.
Page 354 - I'm eager to return before I go; For, all the pleasures I have known beat thick On my remembrance. — How I long for night! That both the sweets of mutual love may try, And triumph once o'er Caesar ere we die.
Page 170 - Tis much more hard to please himself than you ; And, out of no feigned modesty, this day Damns his laborious trifle of a play ; Not that it's worse than what before he writ, But he has now another taste of wit ; And, to confess a truth, though out of time, Grows weary of his long-loved mistress, Rhyme. Passion's too fierce to be in fetters bound, And Nature flies him like enchanted ground...
Page 354 - I'll rather die, than take it. Will you go? Ant. Go ! Whither ? Go from all that's excellent ! Faith, honour, virtue, all good things forbid, That I should go from her, who sets my love Above the price of kingdoms.
Page 380 - Unmark'd of those that hear. Then she's so charming, Age buds at sight of her, and swells to youth: The holy priests gaze on her when she smiles, And with heav'd hands, forgetting gravity, They bless her wanton eyes: even I, who hate her, With a malignant joy behold such beauty, And, while I curse, desire it.
Page 361 - That men's desiring eyes were never wearied, But hung upon the object : To soft flutes The silver oars kept time ; and while they played, The hearing gave new pleasure to the sight ; And both to thought.
Page 407 - With them, the wreath of victory I made (Vain augury!) for him who now lies dead. You, Iras, bring the cure of all our ills.
Page 323 - On the utmost margin of the water-mark. Then, with so swift an ebb the flood drove backward, It slipt from underneath the scaly herd : Here monstrous phocaa panted on the shore ; Forsaken dolphins there, with their broad tails Lay lashing the departing waves : hard by them, Sea-horses' flound'ring in the slimy mud, Toss'd up their heads, and dash'd the ooze about them.