Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Ant. One paine of punishment, the world to weete
Ant. We stand vp Peerelesse.
Cleo. Cleo.
Cleo. Excellent falshood:
Cleo. Why did he marry Fuluia, and not loue her?
Cleo. Ile seeme the Foole I am not. Anthony will be himselfe.
Ant. Ant.
Ant. But stirr'd by Cleopatra.
Ant. Now for the loue of Loue, and her soft houres,
Ant. Let's not confound the time with Conference harsh;
Ant. There's not a minute of our liues should stretch
Ant. Without some pleasure now. What sport to night?
Cleo. Heare the Ambassadors.
Ant. Fye wrangling Queene:
Ant. Whom euery thing becomes, to chide, to laugh,
Ant. To weepe: who euery passion fully striues
Ant. To make it selfe (in Thee) faire, and admir'd.
Ant. No Messenger but thine, and all alone, to night