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Antigonus Autolycus Bafi Banquo Baptista Bian Bianca Bion BIONDELLO blood Bohemia Camillo Count daughter death dost doth Duke Enter Exeunt Exit eyes father fear Fleance fool friends Gent gentleman give Gremio hand hath hear heart heaven honour Hortensio Illyria is't JOHNS JOHNSON Kate Kath KATHARINA king knave knock lady look lord Lucentio Macb Macbeth Macd Macduff madam maid Malvolio marry master mean mistress Narbon never noble OLIVIA Padua Petruchio play poor pr'ythee pray queen Re-enter Rousillon SCENE servant Shakspeare Shefi Sicilia signior Sir ANDREW AGUE-CHEEK sir Toby Sir TOBY BELCH Sirrah speak STEEV swear sweet tell thane thee There's thine thing thou art thou hast thought Tranio Vincentio WARB What's wife Witch word
Page 41 - 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.
Page 58 - 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.
Page 23 - 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.
Page 26 - 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.
Page 29 - 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.
Page 22 - 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.
Page 21 - 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.
Page 46 - 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.
Page 25 - 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.