Macbeth: A Tragedy in Five Acts (Google eBook)

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W. Taylor, 1848 - Promptbooks - 60 pages
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Page 23 - 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?
Page 16 - It is too full o' the milk of human kindness, To catch the nearest way. Thou wouldst be great ; Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily ; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win: thou'dst have, great Glamis, That which cries, "Thus thou must do, if thou have it" ; And that which rather thou dost fear to do, Than wishest should be undone.
Page 15 - The Prince of Cumberland! That is a step On which I must fall down, or else o'erleap, 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.
Page 11 - That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth, And yet are on't ? Live you ? or are you aught That man may question ? You seem to understand me, By each at once her choppy finger laying Upon her skinny lips. — You should be women, And yet your beards forbid me to interpret That you are so.
Page 39 - Avaunt ! and quit my sight ! let the earth hide thee! Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold ; Thou hast no speculation in those eyes Which thou dost glare with ! Lady M.
Page 13 - New honours come upon him, Like our strange garments, cleave not to their mould But with the aid of use.
Page 32 - They hailed him father to a line of kings : Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown, And put a barren sceptre in my gripe, Thence to be wrench'd with an unlineal hand, No son of mine succeeding.
Page 56 - I have almost forgot the taste of fears : The time has been, my senses would have cool'd To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir As life were in't: I have supp'd full with horrors; Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, Cannot once start me.
Page 20 - 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 40 - It will have blood, they say ; blood will have blood : Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak ; Augurs, and understood relations, have By magot-pies, and choughs, and rooks, brought forth The secret'st man of blood.

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