As flaws congealed in the spring of day. And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends; (As, force perforce, the age will pour it in,) K. HENRY IV., PART II., A. 4, s. 4. GOOD WILL SOMETIMES SUFFER UNDESERVEDLY. WHITHER should I fly? I have done no harm. But I remember now I am in this earthly world; where, to do harm, Is often laudable; to do good, sometime, Accounted dangerous folly: Why then, alas! Do I put up that womanly defence, To say, I have done no harm? The varying shore o'the world!-0 Antony! ANTONY. CLEO. So it should be, that none but Antony CLEO. I dare not, dear, (Dear my lord, pardon,) I dare not, Lest I be taken: not the imperious show Be brooch'd with me; if knife, drugs, serpents, have Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe: Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes, ANT. O, quick, or I am gone. CLEO. Here's sport, indeed!-How heavy weighs my lord! Our strength is all gone into heaviness, That makes the weight: Had I great Juno's power, The strong-wing'd Mercury should fetch thee up, And set thee by Jove's side. Yet come a little, Wishers were ever fools ;-0, come, come, come; And welcome, welcome! die, where thou hast liv'd: Quicken with kissing; had my lips that power, Thus would I wear them out. ANT. I am dying, Egypt, dying: Give me some wine, and let me speak a little. CLEO. No, let me speak; and let me rail so high, That the false housewife Fortune break her wheel, Provok'd by my offence. ANT. One word, sweet queen: Of Cæsar seek your honour, with your safety.—O! CLEO. They do not go together. ANT. Gentle, hear me; None about Cæsar trust, but Proculeius. CLEO. My resolution, and my hands, I'll trust; None about Cæsar. ANT. The miserable change now at my end, Lament nor sorrow at: but please your thoughts, In feeding them with those my former fortunes, Wherein I liv'd, the greatest prince o'the world, The noblest and do now not basely die, My countryman, a Roman, by a Roman CLEO. Noblest of men, woo't die? In this dull world, which in thy absence is The soldier's pole is fallen; young boys, and girls, Are level now with men: the odds is gone, [She faints. CHARMIAN. O madam, madam, madam! Royal Egypt's Empress! CLEO. No more, but e'en a woman; and commanded By such poor passion as the maid that milks, Patience is sottish; and impatience does 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. Ah, women, women! come; we have no friend But resolution, and the briefest end. ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A. 4, s. 13. GREAT MEN NEVER DIE. EDWARD. Sweet duke of York, our prop to lean upon; Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay!— O Clifford, boist'rous Clifford, thou hast slain The flower of Europe for his chivalry; And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him, For, hand to hand, he would have vanquish'd thee! Now my soul's palace is become a prison: Ah, would she break from hence! that this my body Might in the ground be closed up in rest: RICHARD. I cannot weep; for all my body's moisture Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart: Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great burden; For self-same wind, that I should speak withal, Is kindling coals, that fire all my breast, And burn me up with flames, that tears would quench. To weep, is to make less the depth of grief: Tears, then, for babes; blows, and revenge for me! Richard, I bear thy name, I'll venge thy death, Or die renowned by attempting it. EDW. His name that valiant duke hath left with thee; His dukedom and his chair with me is left. RICH. Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's bird, Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun : |