CLEOPATRA.

Good now, play one scene of excellent dissembling; and let it look like perfect honour.

CLEOPATRA.

Act 1, Sc. 3, l. 78.

Who's born that day

When I forget to send to Antony,

Shall die a beggar.

Act 1, Sc. 5, L. 64.

CLEOPATRA.

My salad days,

When I was green in judgment:— - cold in blood.

MENECRATES.

Act 1, Sc. 5, l. 75.

We, ignorant of ourselves,

Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers Deny us for our good; so find we profit

By losing of our prayers.

ENOBARBUS.

Act 2, Sc. 1, l. 5.

The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water: the poop was beaten gold; Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that

The winds were love-sick with them; the oars

were silver,

Which to the tune of lutes kept stroke, and made
The water which they beat, to follow faster,
As amorous of their strokes. For her own per-

son,

It beggar'd all description: she did lie
In her pavilion (cloth of gold of tissue),
O'er-picturing that Venus, where we see

The fancy outwork nature: on each side her Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids, With divers-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool, And what they undid, did.

ENOBARBUS.

Act 2, Sc. 2, l. 190.

Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale
Her infinite variety. Other women cloy
The appetites they feed, but she makes hungry
Where most she satisfies; for vilest things
Become themselves in her, that the holy priests
Bless her when she is riggish.

CLEOPATRA.

Act 2, Sc. 2, 1. 235.

A hand that kings

Have lipp'd, and trembled kissing.

CLEOPATRA.

Though it be honest, it is never good

Act 2, Sc. 5, l. 29.

To bring bad news: give to a gracious message An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell

Themselves, when they be felt.

POMPEY.

Act 2, Sc. 5, l. 85.

Well, I know not

face;

Act 2, Sc. 6, l. 54.

What harsh counts fortune casts upon my
But in my bosom shall she never come,
To make my heart her vassal.

CLEOPATRA.

Celerity is never more admir'd,
Than by the negligent.

Act 3, Sc. 7, l. 24.

ANTONY.

O'er my spirit

Thy full supremacy thou knew'st, and that
Thy beck might from the bidding of the gods

Command me.

ANTONY.

Act 3, Sc. 11, l. 59.

Fortune knows,

We scorn her most when most she offers blows.

ANTONY.

Act 3, Sc. 11, l. 73.

O, that I were

Upon the hill of Basan to outroar

The horn'd herd! for I have savage cause;
And to proclaim it civilly, were like

A halter'd neck, which does the hangman thank
For being yare about him.

ENOBARBUS.

Act 3, Sc. 13, l. 126.

When valour preys on reason,

It eats the sword it fights with.

CLEOPATRA.

Act 3, Sc. 13, l. 198.

The odds is gone,

And there is nothing left remarkable

Beneath the visiting moon.

CLEOPATRA.

Act 4, Sc. 15, l. 66.

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.

CLEOPATRA.

Act 5, Sc. 2, l. 82.

Prythee, go hence;

Or I shall show the cinders of my spirits
Through the ashes of my chance.

CHARMIAN.

Act 5, Sc. 2, l. 172.

So, fare thee well.

Now boast thee, death, in thy possession lies

A lass unparallel❜d.

Act 5, Sc. 2, 1. 313.

CYMBELINE.

FIRST GENTLEMAN.

I do not think

So fair an outward, and such stuff within

Endows a man but he.

Act 1, Sc. 1, l. 22.

There cannot be a pinch in death

More sharp than this.

N

Act 1, Sc. 1, l. 130.

IMOGEN.

Ere I could

Give him that parting kiss, which I had set
Betwixt two charming words.

IACHIMO.

Act 1, Sc. 3, 1. 34.

He sits 'mongst men like a descended god:
He hath a kind of honour sets him off,

More than a mortal seeming.

SONG.

Act 1, Sc. 6, l. 168.

Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,

Phoebus 'gins arise,

His steeds to water at those springs

On chalic'd flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes;
With everything that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise;
Arise, arise.

Act 2, Sc. 3, l. 18.

BELARIUS.

O! this life

Is nobler, than attending for a check;
Richer, than doing nothing for a bribe;
Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk;

IMOGEN.

Act 3, Sc. 3, l. 21.

Society is no comfort to one not sociable.

ARVIRAGUS.

Act 4, Sc. 2, 7. 11.

I'ld let a parish of such Clotens blood,
And praise myself for charity.

Act 4, Sc. 2, l. 167.