Genre - Drama. You are on the page - 8
EOPATRA. Hear the ambassadors. ANTONY. Fie, wrangling queen! Whom everything becomes,--to chide, to laugh, To weep; whose every passion fully strives To make itself in thee fair and admir'd! No messenger; but thine, and all alone To-night we'll wander through the streets and note The qualities of people. Come, my queen; Last night you did desire it:--speak not to us. [Exeunt ANTONY and CLEOPATRA, with their Train.] DEMETRIUS. Is Caesar with Antonius priz'd so slight? PHILO. Sir, sometimes when
've some business to talk over with the old lady.FARNCOMBE. [Nodding to ROPER and then coming forward and addressing MRS. UPJOHN.] I-- er-- I think I'll go for a little walk and come back later on, if I may. MRS. UPJOHN. [Contentedly.] Oh, jest as you like. FARNCOMBE. [Moving towards the door.] In about a quarter-of-an-hour. MRS. UPJOHN. If we don't see you again, I'll tell Lil you've been 'ere. FARNCOMBE. [At the door.] Oh, but you will; you will see me again. MRS. UPJOHN. Well, please
obviously disregards all the canons and unities and other things which every well-bred dramatist is bound to respect that his work is really unworthy of serious criticism (orthodox). Indeed he knows no more about the dramatic art than, according to his own story in "The Man of Destiny," Napoleon at Tavazzano knew of the Art of War. But both men were successes each in his way--the latter won victories and the former gained audiences, in the very teeth of the accepted theories of war
COUNTESS. Be thou blest, Bertram, and succeed thy father In manners, as in shape! thy blood and virtue Contend for empire in thee, and thy goodness Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Rather in power than use; and keep thy friend Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence, But never tax'd for speech. What heaven more will, That thee may furnish and my prayers pluck down, Fall on thy head! Farewell.--My lord, 'Tis an unseason'd
her worth. In my true heart I find she names my very deed of love; Only she comes too short,--that I profess Myself an enemy to all other joys Which the most precious square of sense possesses, And find I am alone felicitate In your dear highness' love.Cor. [Aside.] Then poor Cordelia! And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love's More richer than my tongue. Lear. To thee and thine hereditary ever Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom; No less in space, validity, and pleasure Than that
y the sea.CATHLEENHow would they be Michael's, Nora. How would he go the lengthof that way to the far north? NORAThe young priest says he's known the like of it. "If it'sMichael's they are," says he, "you can tell herself he's got aclean burial by the grace of God, and if they're not his, letno one say a word about them, for she'll be getting her death,"says he, "with crying and lamenting." [The door which Nora half closed is blown open by a gust ofwind.]