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arms art thou Arthur Attendants Aumerle Bagot banish'd Banquo bastard bishop of Carlisle Blanch blood Bolingbroke bosom breath Bushy castle cousin crown Dauphin dead death deed doth Duch duke duke of Hereford duke of Norfolk earth England Enter king Enter macbeth Exeunt Exit eyes fair farewell father Faulconbridge fear Fleance France friends Gaunt gentle give grace grief hand hath hear heart Heaven Hereford hither honor Hubert James Gurney John of Gaunt King John King Richard Lady Macbeth land liege live look lord Macb Macd Macduff madam majesty murder night noble Norfolk Northumberland Pandulph pardon peace Pern prince Queen Rosse royal Salisbury SCENE Shakspeare shame sleep Soldiers sorrow soul speak stand sweet sword tears thane of Cawdor thee thine thou art thou hast tongue traitor treason uncle Witch words York
Page 25 - tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly: If the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch, 'With his surcease, success ; that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here. But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, — We'd jump the life to come...
Page 14 - Might yet enkindle you unto the crown, Besides the thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange : And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths ; Win us with honest trifles, to betray us In deepest consequence Cousins, a word, . I pray you.
Page 218 - This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.
Page 64 - I am in blood Stepp'd in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er : Strange things I have in head, that will to hand ; Which must be acted ere they may be scann'd.
Page 98 - 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.
Page 26 - 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. Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valour As thou art in desire ? Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem, Letting "I dare not" wait upon "I would," Like the poor cat i
Page 94 - I have lived long enough : my way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf ; And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have ; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
Page 31 - 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?