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Achilles Ajax Andronicus arms bear better blood bring brother Clot comes dead death deed doth Emperor Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair fall father fear felf fhall fhould fight fleep fome fons fool foul fpeak friends ftand ftill fuch fweet fword give Gods Guid hand hath head hear heart heav'n Hector hold honour I'll Italy keep King Lady Lavinia leave live look Lord Lucius Macb Macbeth Macd Mach Marcus matter mean moft muft nature never night noble peace Poft poor pray Prince Queen Roffe Roman Rome SCENE ſpeak tears tell thank thee thefe Ther there's theſe thing thou thou art thought Titus tongue Troi Troilus true Ulyf what's whofe wife Witch worthy
191 psl. - Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes : Those scraps are good deeds past : which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done...
83 psl. - Your face, my thane, is as a book, where men May read strange matters : To beguile the time, Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.
91 psl. - 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.
85 psl. - Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off...
111 psl. - Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake : Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog...
106 psl. - 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.
103 psl. - Come, seeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day; And with thy bloody and invisible hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond Which keeps me pale!
127 psl. - To bed, to bed; there's knocking at the gate: come, come, come, come, give me your hand: what's done cannot be undone: to bed, to bed, to bed.