Shakespeare's Tragedy of Macbeth

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F. Hart, 1881 - 104 páginas
 

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Página 81 - She should have died hereafter; There would have been a time for such a word. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death.
Página 23 - Come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood; Stop up the access and passage to remorse, That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose...
Página 45 - They hailed him father to a line of kings : Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown, And put a barren sceptre in my gripe, Thence to be wrench'd with an unlineal hand, No son of mine succeeding.
Página 103 - The raven himself is hoarse That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan Under my battlements. Come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full Of direst cruelty ! make thick my blood ; Stop up...
Página 18 - This supernatural soliciting Cannot be ill, cannot be good : — if ill, Why hath it given me earnest of success, Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor : If good, why do I yield to that suggestion ^Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair, — And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, Against the use of nature...
Página 36 - I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal, For it must seem their guilt. Exit. Knocking within MACBETH. Whence is that knocking? How is't with me, when every noise appals me? What hands are here? Ha! they pluck out mine eyes. Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red.
Página 35 - Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane, You do unbend your noble strength, to think So brainsickly of things. Go get some water, And wash this filthy witness from your hand. Why did you bring these daggers from the place? They must lie there: go carry them, and smear The sleepy grooms with blood.
Página 56 - I pray you, speak not ; he grows worse and worse ; Question enrages him : at once, good night : — > Stand not upon the order of your going, But go at once.
Página 32 - Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee : I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Página 25 - This guest of summer, The temple-haunting martlet, does approve, By his loved mansionry, that the heaven's breath Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze. Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle : Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed, The air is delicate.

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