LOATHED LIFE.

sovereign mistress of true melancholy,

The poisonous damp of night disponge* upon me ; That life, a very rebel to my will,

May hang no longer on me.

ANTONY'S DESPONDENCY.

O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more:
Fortune and Antony part here; even here

Do we shake hands. All come to this?-The hearts
That spaniel'd me at heels, to whom I gave
Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets
On blossoming Casar; and this pine is bark'd,
That overtopp'd them all,

DEPARTING GREATNESS.

The soul and body rivet not more in parting,
Than greatness going off.

ANTONY'S REFLECTIONS ON HIS FADED GLORY.
Sometime, we see a cloud that's dragonish :
A vapour, sometime, like a bear, or lion,
A tower'd citadel, a pendant rock,

A forked mountain or blue promontory

With trees upon't, that nod unto the world,

And mock our eyes with, ajr: Thou hast seen these signs;

They are black vesper's pageants.

Eros.

Ay, my lord.

Ant. That, which is now a horse, even with a thought,

The rack dislimns; and makes it indistinct,

As water is in water.

Eros.

Ant. My good knave, E

Even such a body: here 1 am

Antony;

Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave.
I made these wars for Egypt; and the queen,-

*Discharge, as a sponge when squeezed discharges the

moisture it had imbibed.

The fleeting clouds.

+ Split.

§ Servant.

Whose heart, I thought, I had, for she had mine;
Which, whilst 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 would'st 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;

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 you, women? What, what? good cheer! Why, how now, Charmian?

My noble girls!-Ah, women, women! look,

Our lamp is spent, it'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. Come, away: This case of that huge spirit now is cold.

ACT V.

DEATH.

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 ;-
O, such another sleep, that. I might see

But such another man!

Dól.

If it might please you, Cleo. His face was as the heavens; and therein

/ stuck

A sun, and moon; which kept their course, and

lighted

The little O, the earth.

Dol.

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 quail + and shake the orb, He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty, There was no winter in't; an autumn 'twas, 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

Walk'd crowns, and crownets; realms and islands

were

As plates dropp'd from his pocket.

* Servant.

+ Crush.

+ Silver money.

FIRM RESOLUTION.

How 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 fleeting 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 ther 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 you 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.

Char. Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain;

that I may

This 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.

With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate
Of life at once untie: poor venomous fool,

* Inconstant.

Make haste.

Be angry, and dispatch, O, could'st thou speak!
That I might hear thee call great Cæsar, ass
Unpolicied* !

Char.

Cleo.

O eastern star!

Peace, peace!

Dost thou not see my baby at my breast,
That sucks the nurse asleep?

Char.
O, break! O, break!
Cleo. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle,-
O Antony!-Nay, I will take thee too:-

What should I stay

[Applying another asp to her arm. [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.

CORIOLANUS.

ACT I

A MOB.

WHAT would you have, you curs,

That like nor peace, nor war? the one affrights

you,

The other makes you proud. He that trusts you,
Where he should find you lions, finds you hares;
Where foxes, geese: You are no surer, no,
Than is the coal of fire upon 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 greatness,
Deserves your hate: and your affections are
A sick man's appetite, who desires most that
Which would increase his evil. He that depends

* Unpolitic, to leave me to myself.