My fleet have yielded to the foe; and yonder I have done all ;-Bid them all fly, begone. [Exit Scarus. 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 ANTONY RESOLVES ON SUICIDE. Ant. Eros, thou yet behold'st me? Eros. Ay, noble lord. Ant. Sometime, we see a cloud that's dragonish ; A vapour, sometime, like a bear, or lion, A tower'd citadel, a pendent rock, A forked mountain, or blue promontory With trees upon 't, that nod unto the world, And mock our eyes with air: 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. It does, my lord. Ant. My good knave, Eros, now thy captain is Unto an enemy's triumph. Nay, weep not, gentle Eros! there is left us THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. A ROOM IN THE GARTER INN. Falstaff and Bardolph. Fal. Bardolph, I say, Bard. Here, Sir. Fal. Go fetch me a quart of sack; put a toast in't. [Exit Bard.] Have I lived to be carried in a basket, like a barrow of butcher's offal, and to be thrown into the Thames? Well, if I be served such another trick, I'll have my brains ta'en out and butter'd, and give them to a dog for a New-Year's gift. The rogues slighted me into the river with as little remorse as they would have drowned a bitch's blind puppies, fifteen i' the litter; and you may know, by my size, that I have a kind of alacrity in sinking; if the bottom were as deep as Erebus, I should down. I had been drowned, but that the shore was shelvy and shallow;-a death that I abhor; for the water swells a man; and what a thing should I have been, when I had been swelled! I should have been a mountain of mummy. THE PRETENDED FAIRIES' SONG. Fal. Oh, oh, oh! Mrs. Quickly. Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire! About him, fairies; sing a scornful rhyme; And, as you trip, still pinch him to your time. Evans. It is right; indeed he is full of lecheries and iniquity. Song. Fye on sinful fantasy! Kindled with unchaste desire, Fed in heart; whose flames aspire, As thoughts do blow them, higher and higher. Pinch him, fairies, mutually; Pinch him for his villany; Pinch him, and burn him, and turn him about, THE TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. MUSIC THE FOOD OF LOVE. Duke. If music be the food of love, play on, But falls into abatement and low price, Even in a minute! so full of shapes is fancy, That it alone is high-fantastical. Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord? Duke. What, Curio? Cur. The hart. Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have: And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, THE DUKE REQUESTS THE CLOWN TO REPEAT HIS SONG. Duke. O fellow, come, the song we had last night :Mark it, Cesario; it is old, and plain : The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids, that weave their thread with bones, Do use to chaunt it; it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age. Clo. Are you ready, Sir? Duke. Ay; pr'ythee, sing. Song. Come away, come away, death, I am slain by a fair cruel maid. prepare it; My part of death no one so true Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown; My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown : Lay me, O, where Sad true lover ne'er find my grave, To weep there. THE TEMPEST. FERDINAND AND MIRANDA CONFESS THEIR MUTUAL PASSION. Fer. No, noble mistress; 't is fresh morning with me, When you are by at night. I do beseech you, (Chiefly, that I might set it in my prayers,) What is your name? Mira. Miranda :-O my father, I have broke your hest to say so! Indeed, the top of admiration; worth What 's dearest to the world! Full many a lady With so full soul, but some defect in her Mira. I do not know One of my sex; no woman's face remember, ALONSO CONSCIENCE-SMITTEN FOR HIS FORMER OFFENCE TOWARDS PROSPERO. Pro. [Aside.] Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou In their distractions: they now are in my power; Young Ferdinand, (whom they suppose is drown'd,) [Exit Prospero. Gonzalo. I' the name of something holy, Sir, why stand you In this strange stare? Alon. O, it is monstrous! monstrous! |