Imatges de pàgina
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Lie graveless; 'till the flies and gnats of Nile
Have buried them for prey!

Ant. I'm fatisfied:

Cæfar fets down in Alexandria, where

I will oppose his fate. Our force by land
Hath nobly held; our fever'd navy too

Have knit again, and float, threatning moft fea-like.
Where haft thou been, my heart? dost thou hear, Lady?
If from the field I fhould return once more
To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood;
I and my fword will earn my chronicle;
There's hope in't yet.

Cleo. That's my brave Lord.

Ant. I will be treble-finew'd, hearted, breath'd,
And fight maliciously: for when mine hours
Were nice and lucky, men did ransome lives
Of me for jefts; but now I'll fet my teeth,
And send to darkness all that stop me. Come,
Let's have one other gaudy night: call to me
All my fad Captains, fill our bowls; once more
Let's mock the midnight bell.

Cleo. It is my birth-day;

I had thought, t'have held it poor: But fince my Lord Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra.

Ant. We will yet do well.

Cleo. Call all his noble Captains to my Lord.

Ant. Do fo, we'll speak to them, and to night I'll

force

The wine peep through their scars. Come on, my

Queen;

There's lap in't yet. The next time I do fight,
I'll make Death love me: for I will contend
Even with his peftilent scythe.

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[Exeunt.

Timon of Athens.

Hamlet.

Why, what a deal of candied Courtefie
This fawning Greyhound then did proffer me

!

1 Henry IV. Eno.

No, let the candied Tongue lick abfurd Pomp;

Eno. Now he'll out-ftare the lightning; to be fu

rious,
Is to be frighted out of fear; and, in that mood,
The dove will peck the eftridge; and I fee ftill,
A diminution in our Captain's brain

Reftores his heart; when valour preys on reason,
It eats the fword it fights with: I will feek
Some way to leave him.

[Exit.

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SCENE, Cæfar's Camp.

Enter Cæfar, Agrippa, and Mecenas, with their Army. Cæfar reading a Letter.

H

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E calls me boy, and chides as he had power
To beat me out of Egypt. My messenger
He hath whipt with rods, dares me to perfo
nal Combat,

Cæfar to Antony. Let the old ruffian know,
I have many other ways to die: mean time,
Laugh at his challenge.

Mec. Cæfar must think,

When One fo Great begins to rage, he's hunted
Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now
Make Boot of his Diftraction: never anger
Made good guard for it self.

Caf. (43) Let our best heads

Know that to morrow the laft of many battels
We mean to fight. Within our files there are

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Of

That to morrow the last of Battles
We mean to fight. I might very reafonably return Mr. Pope one

very 2

of

Of those that ferv'd Mark Antony but late,
Enough to fetch him in. See, it be done;
And feaft the army; we have ftore to do't,
And they have earn'd the wafte. Poor Antony!
[Exeunt.

SCENE, the Palace in Alexandria.

Enter Antony and Cleopatra, Enobarbus, Charmian, Iras, Alexas, with others.

Ant.

HE will not fight with me, Domitius.

Ant. Why fhould he not?

Eno. He thinks, being twenty times of better fortune, He's twenty men to one.

Ant. To morrow, Soldier,

By fea and land I'll fight: or I will live,
Or bathe my dying honour in the blood

Shall make it live again. Woo't thou fight well?
Eno. I'll ftrike, and cry, "take all.

Ant. Well faid, come on:

Call forth my houfhold fervants, let's to night

Enter Servants.

Be bounteous at our meal. Give me thy hand,
Thou hast been rightly honeft; so hast thou,

And thou, and thou, and thou: you've ferv'd me well,
And Kings have been
your fellows.

Cleo. What means this?

Eno. 'Tis one of those odd tricks, which Sorrow shoots Out of the mind.

Ant. And thou art honeft too:

I wish, I could be made so many men;

of his own Civilities here, and fay, the intermediate Line is in his Ear a Verfe. But I have a better Opinion of his Ear than I have of his Industry, one of the Qualifications neceffary to a good Editor. A fmall Obfervation of the Meafure, mix'd with a little Diligence in collating, might have taught him to regulate the Lines, and to have avoided this hobbling, inharmonious, Moniler of a Verfe.

And

And all of you clapt up together in

An Antony; that I might do you service,
So good as you have done.

Omnes. The Gods forbid!

Ant. Well, my good fellows, wait on me to night; Scant not my cups, and make as much of me

As when mine Empire was your fellow too,
And fuffer'd my command.

Cleo. What does he mean?

Ene. To make his followers weep.
Ant. Tend me to night;

'May be, it is the period of your duty;
Haply, you shall not fee me more; or if,
A mangled fhadow. It may chance to morrow,
You'll ferve another mafter. I look on you,
As one that takes his leave. Mine honeft friends,
I turn you not away; but like a master
Married to your good service, stay till death;
Tend me to night two hours, I ask no more,
And the Gods yield you for't!

Eno. What mean you, Sir,

To give them this difcomfort? look, they weep.
And I, an afs, am onion-ey'd; for fhame,
Transform us not to women.

Ant. Ho, ho, ho!

Now the witch take me, if I meant it thus!
Grace grow, where thofe drops fall! my hearty friends,
You take me in too dolorous a fenfe;

I fpake t' you for your comfort, did defire you
To burn this night with torches: know, my hearts,
I hope well of to morrow, and will lead you,
Where rather I'll expect victorious life,

Than death and honour. Let's to fupper, come,
And drown confideration.

[Exeunt,

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SCENE, a Court of Guard before the Palace.

I Sold.

Enter a company of Soldiers.

BRoth

Rother, good night: to morrow is the day. 2 Sold. It will determine one way: Fare

you well.

Heard you of nothing ftrange about the streets? 1 Sold. Nothing: what news?

2 Sold. Belike, 'tis but a rumour; good night to you. 1 Sold. Well, Sir, good night.

[They meet with other Soldiers.

2 Sold. Soldiers, have careful watch.

1 Sold. And you, good night, good night.

[They place themselves in every corner of the stage.

2 Sold. Here, we; and if to morrow

Our Navy thrive, I have an abfolute hope

Our Landmen will stand up.

1 Sold. 'Tis a brave army, and full of purpose.

[Mufick of the bautboys is under the ftage

2 Sold. Peace, what noife?

1 Sold. Lift, lift!

2 Sold. Hark!

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2 Sold, No.

I Sold. Peace, I fay: what fhould this mean? 2 Sold. 'Tis the God Hercules, who loved Antony, Now leaves him.

I Sold. Walk, let's fee if other watchmen

Do hear what we do.

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...

It fings well, does it not?] Sings well? Tho' this may poffibly be a technical Term, fometimes apply'd to inftrumental Mufick; yet we owe it here, as we do fo many other Abfurdities, to the Indolence or Ignorance of our modern Editors. The old Impreffions concur in reading, as I have reftor'd the Text;

It fignes well, does it not?

i. e. Is it a good Omen? Does it portend well to our General ?

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