What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
Antony Apem Attendants Bawd bear Boult bring Cæs Cæsar Char Cleo Cleopatra comes command daughter dead death dost doth Duke Egypt Enter Eros Exeunt Exit eyes fair father fear follow fool fortune friends gentle give gods gold gone grace 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 mistress nature never night noble Pain 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 thoughts Timon true unto Valentine wish worthy
Page 228 - 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.
Page 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.
Page 37 - 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.
Page 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.
Page 222 - 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...
Page 323 - 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.
Page 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.
Page 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.
Page 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.