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The Works of William Shakespeare The Plays Edited from the ..., 1112 tomai
William Shakespeare,Richard Grant White
Visos knygos peržiūra - 1889
ancient answer appears Attendants bear believe better blood bring comes Count daughter death Duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes face fair father fear fellow fool fortune friends give gone hand hast hath head hear heart heaven hold honour hope horse I'll Italy JOHNS JOHNSON Kath keep kind king lady leave live look lord Macb Macbeth Macd madam marry master mean mind mistress nature never night noble once Paul play poor pray present queen reason SCENE seems sense servant serve Shakspeare sleep speak stand stay STEEV sweet tell thank thee There's thine thing thou thou art thought true wife Witch woman young
41 psl. - 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.
58 psl. - O Proserpina, For the flowers now, that, frighted, thou let'st fall From Dis's waggon! daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty ; violets, dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes, Or Cytherea's breath ; pale primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength, a malady Most incident to maids; bold oxlips, and The crown-imperial ; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one ! O, these I lack.
23 psl. - I have given suck, and know How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me: I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums, And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this.
26 psl. - Now o'er the one half world Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse The curtain'd sleep; witchcraft celebrates Pale Hecate's offerings, and wither'd murder, Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace. With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design Moves like a ghost.
29 psl. - Infirm of purpose ! Give me the daggers : the sleeping and the dead Are but as pictures : 'tis the eye of childhood That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal ; For it must seem their guilt.
22 psl. - Was the hope drunk Wherein you dress'd yourself? Hath it slept since? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely ? From this time Such I account thy love.
21 psl. - To plague the inventor: This even-handed justice Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice To our own lips. He's here in double trust: First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, Strong both against the deed ; then, as his host, Who should against his murderer shut the door, Not bear the knife myself.
46 psl. - Too terrible for the ear. The times have been That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end ; but now they rise again, With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, And push us from our stools.
25 psl. - 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. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling, as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind; a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain ? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw.