You have seen and prov’d a fairer former fortune Than that which is to approach.
—My lord approaches.
Our overplus of shipping will we burn; And, with the rest full-mann’d, from the head of Actium Beat the approaching Caesar.
Most noble sir, arise; the queen approaches: Her head’s declin’d, and death will seize her, but Your comfort makes the rescue.
Approach, and speak.
Approach, ho! all’s not well: Caesar’s beguil’d.
—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.
Our Italy Shines o’er with civil swords: Sextus Pompeius Makes his approaches to the port of Rome; Equality of two domestic powers Breed scrupulous faction: the hated, grown to strength, Are newly grown to love: the condemn’d Pompey, Rich in his father’s honour, creeps apace Into the hearts of such as have not thriv’d Upon the present state, whose numbers threaten; And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge By any desperate change.
You come not Like Caesar’s sister: the wife of Antony Should have an army for an usher, and The neighs of horse to tell of her approach Long ere she did appear; the trees by the way Should have borne men; and expectation fainted, Longing for what it had not; nay, the dust Should have ascended to the roof of heaven, Rais’d by your populous troops: but you are come A market-maid to Rome; and have prevented The ostentation of our love, which left unshown Is often left unlov’d; we should…