What people are saying - Write a review
User Review - Flag as inappropriate
Piece of sh*t, Shakespeare is so overplayed.
All's Anglo-Saxon Antony and Cleopatra Banquo blood called castell cloth College Compare 2 Henry Compare King Lear Compare Richard Compare The Merchant conjectured Coriolanus Cotgrave Cymbeline death deed Duncan Dunsinane Dyce Edition emendation England English enimies Enter MACBETH Exeunt Extra fcap fcap fear Fleance formerly Fellow French gives Hamlet hand Hanmer hath haue heaven Hecate Holinshed honour Johnson King John King Lear Lady Macbeth Lady Macduff Lennox lord Malcolm Malone means Measure for Measure Merchant of Venice metaphor Midsummer Night's Dream murder nature noble Othello Oxford passage play Pope read quotes Romeo and Juliet Ross scene Scotland Second Witch sense Shakespeare Siward slain sleep speak spelt Steevens Tempest thane of Cawdor thee theyr things thou thought Timon of Athens Troilus and Cressida Twelfth Night verb vnto vpon weird sisters Winter's Tale word
Page 111 - There is a history in all men's lives, Figuring the nature of the times deceased : The which observed, a man may prophesy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life ; which in their seeds, And weak beginnings lie intreasured. Such things become the hatch and brood of time...
Page 16 - 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 6 - Are ye fantastical, or that indeed Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner You greet with present grace, and great prediction Of noble having, and of royal hope, That he seems rapt withal; to me you speak not: If you can look into the seeds of time, And say, which grain will grow, and which will not, Speak then to me, who neither beg, nor fear, Your favours, nor your hate.
Page 89 - Remember thee? Yea, from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, All saws of books, all forms, all pressures past, That youth and observation copied there...
Page 35 - Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck, Till thou applaud the deed. 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 ! Light thickens, and the crow 50 Makes wing to the rooky wood; Good things of day begin to droop and drowse, Whiles night's black agents to their preys do rouse.
Page 99 - O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him, When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds And sails upon the bosom of the air.
Page 11 - Yet do I fear thy nature; 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 16 - Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place Did then adhere, and yet you would make both: They have made themselves, and that their fitness now Does unmake you. I have given suck, and know How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me...
Page 21 - But wherefore could not I pronounce, Amen ? I had most need of blessing, and Amen stuck in my throat.
Page 35 - O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife! Thou know'st that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives. Lady M. But in them nature's copy's not eterne. Macb. There's comfort yet, they are assailable; Then be thou jocund: ere the bat hath flown His cloister'd flight; ere to black Hecate's summons The shard-borne beetle with his drowsy hums Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done A deed of dreadful note.