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... The Plays of William Shakespeare: Accurately Printed from the Text of the ... - Page 475 by William Shakespeare - 1803 Full view -
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