Macbeth

Capa
J. M. Dent & Company, 1902 - 106 páginas

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Passagens conhecidas

Página lxviii - Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses, Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still, And on thy blade and dudgeon* gouts of blood, Which was not so before. There 's no such thing: It is the bloody business which informs Thus to mine eyes.
Página lviii - For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires ! Let not light see my black and deep desires. The eye wink at the hand ! yet let that be, Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.
Página lii - Are ye fantastical, or that indeed Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner You greet with present grace, and great prediction Of noble having, and of royal hope, That he seems rapt withal; to me you speak not: If you can look into the seeds of time, And say, which grain will grow, and which will not, Speak then to me, who neither beg, nor fear, Your favours, nor your hate.
Página 38 - I conjure you, by that which you profess, Howe'er you come to know it, answer me : Though you untie the winds and let them fight Against the churches ; though the yesty waves Confound and swallow navigation up ; Though bladed corn be lodged and trees blown down ; Though castles topple on their warders...
Página lv - 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 lxviii - Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth, Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear Thy very stones prate of my whereabout, And take the present horror from the time, Which now suits with it. Whiles I threat, he lives : Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.
Página 56 - Fife had a wife ; where is she now ? What, will these hands ne'er be clean ? No more o' that, my lord, no more o' that : you mar all with this starting.
Página 20 - Duncan is in his grave; After life's fitful fever he sleeps well; Treason has done his •worst: nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, Can touch him further.
Página liii - A prosperous gentleman; and to be king Stands not within the prospect of belief, . No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence You owe this strange intelligence? or why Upon this blasted heath you stop our way With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge you. \Witches vanish. Ban. The earth hath bubbles as the water has, And these are of them : whither are they vanish'd?
Página 1 - tis not done; the attempt and not the deed Confounds us. Hark! I laid their daggers ready; He could not miss them. Had he not resembled My father as he slept I had done 't.

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