« PředchozíPokračovat »
It does, my lord. Ant. 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, while it was mine, had annex'd unto't A million more, now lost,—she, Eros, has Pack'd cards with Cæsar, and false play'd my glory Unto an enemy's triumph.Nay, weep not, gentle Eros; there is left us Ourselves to end ourselves.
DESCRIPTION OF CLEOPATRA'S SUPPOSED DEATH.
Death of one person can be paid but once; And that she has discharg'd: What thou wouldst do, Is done unto thy hand; the last she spake Was Antony! most noble Antony ! Then in the midst a tearing groan did break The name of Antony; it was divided Between her heart and lips: she render'd life, Thy name so buried in her. CLEOPATRA'S REFLECTIONS ON THE DEATH OF
ANTONY It were for me To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods; To tell them, that this world did equal theirs, Till they had stolen our jewel. All's but naught; Patience is sottish; and impatience does Become a dog that's mad: Then is it sin, To rush into the secret house of death, Ere death dare come to us?-How do
women? What, what? good cheer? Why, how now, CharMy noble girls ! —Ah,women, women! look, [mian?
Our lamp is spent, it's out:-Good sirs, take heart:--
My desolation does begin to make A better life: 'Tis paltry to be Cæsar; Not being fortune, he's but fortune's knave*, A minister of her will: And it is great To do that thing that ends all other deeds; Which shackles accidents, and bolts up change; Which sleeps, and never palates more the dung, The beggar's nurse and Cæsar's. CLEOPATRA'S DREAM, AND DESCRIPTION OF ANTONY.
Cleo. I dream'd, there was an emperor Antony;0, such another sleep, that I might see But such another man! Dol.
If it might please you, — Cleo. His face was as the heavens; and therein
stuck A sun, and moon; which kept their course, and The little O, the earth.
Most sovereign creature,— Cleo. His legs bestrid the ocean: his rear'd arm Crested the world: his voice was propertied As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends ; But when he meant to quailt and shake the orb, He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty, There was no winter in't; an autumn 'twas, * Servant.
That grew the more by reaping: His delights Were dolphin-like: they show'd his back above The element they liv'd in: In his livery [were Walk'd crowns, and crownets; realms and islands As plates* dropp'd from his pocket.
poor an instrument May do a noble deed! he brings me liberty. My resolution's plac'd, and I have nothing Of woman in me: Now from head to foot I am marble constant: now the fleetingť moon No planet is of mine.
CLEOPATRA'S SPEECH ON APPLYING THE ASP. 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, yaret, good Iras; quick.--Methinks I hear Antony call; I see him rouse himself To praise my noble act; I hear him mock The luck of Cæsar, which the gods give men To 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 baser life. So, have
done? Come, then, and take the last warmth of my lips. Farewell, kind Charmian ;-Iras, long farewell. Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall? If thou and nature can so gently part, The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, Which hurts and is desir'd. Dost thou lie still? If thus thou vanishest, thou tell’st the world It is not worth leave-taking.
+ Inconstant. Make hasta
* Silver money.
Char. Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain; that I may The gods themselves do weep!
proves me base: If she first meet the curled Antony, He'll make demand of her; and spend that kiss, Which is my heaven to have. Come, mortal wretch,
[To the asp, which she applies to her breast.
O eastern star!
O, break! O, break! Cleo. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle, O Antony!—Nay, I will take thee too:
[Applying another asp to her arm. What, should I stay“ (Falls on a bed, and dies.
Char. In this wild world ? So, fare thee well.Now boast thee, death! in thy possession lies A lass unparallel'd.
What would you bave, you curs,
* Unpolitic, to leave me to myself.
The other makes you proud. He that trusts you,
the ice, Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is, To make him worthy, whose offence subdues him, And curse that justice did it. Who deserves greatDeserves your
hate: and your affections are [ness, A sick man's appetite, who desires most that Which would increase his evil. He that depends Upon your favours, swims with fins of lead, And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye! Trust With every minute you do change your mind; [ye? ? And call him noble, that was now your hate, Him vile, that was your garland.
AN IMAGINARY DESCRIPTION OF CORIOLANUS
Vir. His bloody brow! O, Jupiter, no blood!
Vol. Away, you fool! it more becomes a man, Than gilt his trophy.
The breasts of Hecuba, When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier Than Hector's forehead, when it spit forth blood At Grecian swords contending.