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Antony Apem Attendants Bawd bear Boult bring Caes Caesar Char Charmian Cleo Cleopatra comes command daughter dead death dost doth Duke Egypt Enter Ereunt Erit Eros eyes fair father fear Fish follow fool fortune friends give gods gold gone grace Guard hand hath hear heart heaven hold honest honor I'll Iras keep kind king lady Launce leave letter live look lord madam master mean Mess mind mistress nature never night noble peace Pericles poor pray present Proteus queen SCENE sent Serv servant Silvia Sold speak Speed stand sweet tell thank thee There's thine thing Third thou thou art thou hast thought Timon Tºm true unto Valentine wish worth
Strana 230 - 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. — Methinks, I hear Antony call; I see him rouse himself To praise my noble act; I hear him mock The luck of Caesar, 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.
Strana 129 - Come not to me again : but say to Athens, Timon hath made his everlasting mansion Upon the beached verge of the salt flood ; Whom once a day with his embossed froth The turbulent surge shall cover ; thither come, And let my grave-stone be your oracle.
Strana 218 - No more, but e'en a woman, and commanded By such poor passion as the maid that milks And does the meanest chares. It were for me To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods ; To tell them that this world did equal theirs Till they had stol'n our jewel.
Strana 357 - Who is Silvia ? what is she, That all our swains commend her ? Holy, fair, and wise is she ; The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired be. Is she kind, as she is fair, For beauty lives with kindness ? Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness ; And, being help'd, inhabits there. Then to Silvia let us sing, That Silvia is excelling ; She excels each mortal thing, Upon the dull earth dwelling : To her let us garlands bring.
Strana 160 - 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.
Strana 224 - 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 quail and shake the orb, He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty, There was no winter...
Strana 325 - O, how this spring of love resembleth The uncertain glory of an April day, Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, And by and by a cloud takes all away ! He-enter PANTHINO.
Strana 218 - 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.
Strana 219 - s out ! — Good sirs, take heart : — We'll bury him ; and then, what's brave, what's noble, Let's do it after the high Roman fashion, And make death proud to take us.
Strana 161 - 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.