Antony and Cleopatra

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Bliss, Sands, 1898 - 139 pages
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Martin Beck Theatre, Katharine Cornell presents, "Antony and Cleopatra," by William Shakespeare with Kent Smith, Lenore Ulric, Ralph Clanton, Ivan Simpson, Miss Cornell, Godfrey Tearle, staged by Guthrie McClintic, settings by Leo Kerz, costumes by Valentina and John Boyt, music by Paul Nordoff.
 

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Page 136 - 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.
Page 40 - ... helm A seeming mermaid steers; the silken tackle Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands, That yarely frame the office. From the barge.. A strange invisible perfume hits the sense Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast Her people out upon her; and Antony, Enthron'd in the market-place, did sit alone, Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy, Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too, And made a gap in nature.
Page 111 - 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 Even such a body. Here I am Antony; Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave.
Page 137 - With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate Of life at once untie: poor venomous fool, Be angry, and dispatch.
Page 82 - Egypt, thou knew'st too well, My heart was to thy rudder tied by the strings, And thou shouldst tow me after : o'er my spirit Thy full supremacy thou knew'st, and that Thy beck might from the bidding of the gods Command me. Clco. O, my pardon ! Ant. Now I must To the young man send humble treaties, dodge And palter in the shifts of lowness ; who With half the bulk o' the world pla/d as I pleas'd, Making and marring fortunes.
Page 136 - 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, yare, good Iras ; quick.
Page 40 - 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.
Page 139 - If they had swallow'd poison, 'twould appear By external swelling : but she looks like sleep, As she would catch another Antony In her strong toil of grace.
Page 120 - No more, but e'en a woman; and commanded By such poor passion as the maid that milks, And does the meanest chares.
Page 29 - 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.

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