Act IV, Scene vii: Under the Walls of Alexandria.
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| | ANTONY: | |
| | We have beat him to his camp. Run one before | |
| | And let the queen know of our gests.—To-morrow, | |
| | Before the sun shall see us, we'll spill the blood | |
| | That has to-day escap'd. I thank you all; | |
| | For doughty-handed are you, and have fought | |
| | Not as you serv'd the cause, but as't had been | |
| | Each man's like mine; you have shown all Hectors. | |
| | Enter the city, clip your wives, your friends, | |
| | Tell them your feats; whilst they with joyful tears | |
| | Wash the congealment from your wounds and kiss | |
| | The honour'd gashes whole.—[To SCARUS.]Give me thy hand; | |
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| | To this great fairy I'll commend thy acts, | |
| | Make her thanks bless thee. O thou day o' the world, | |
| | Chain mine arm'd neck; leap thou, attire and all; | |
| | Through proof of harness to my heart, and there | |
| | Ride on the pants triumphing. | |
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| | CLEOPATRA: | |
| | Lord of lords! | |
| | O infinite virtue, com'st thou smiling from | |
| | The world's great snare uncaught? | |
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| | ANTONY: | |
| | Mine nightingale, | |
| | We have beat them to their beds. What, girl! though grey | |
| | Do something mingle with our younger brown, yet ha' we | |
| | A brain that nourishes our nerves, and can | |
| | Get goal for goal of youth. Behold this man; | |
| | Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand;— | |
| | Kiss it, my warrior: he hath fought to-day | |
| | As if a god, in hate of mankind, had | |
| | Destroyed in such a shape. | |
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| | CLEOPATRA: | |
| | I'll give thee, friend, | |
| | An armour all of gold; it was a king's. | |
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| | ANTONY: | |
| | He has deserv'd it, were it carbuncled | |
| | Like holy Phoebus' car.—Give me thy hand: | |
| | Through Alexandria make a jolly march; | |
| | Bear our hack'd targets like the men that owe them: | |
| | Had our great palace the capacity | |
| | To camp this host, we all would sup together, | |
| | And drink carouses to the next day's fate, | |
| | Which promises royal peril.—Trumpeters, | |
| | With brazen din blast you the city's ear; | |
| | Make mingle with our rattling tabourines; | |
| | That heaven and earth may strike their sounds together, | |
| | Applauding our approach. | |
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