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Achilles Agam Agamemnon Ajax Alcib Alcibiades Antenor Apem Apemantus Appears Athens Banquo Bawd blood Boult breath Calchas Cawdor Cleon command Cres Cressida daughter deed Diomed Dionyza dost doth Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair father fear feast Flav Fleance fool fortune friends Gent give gods gold Grecian Greeks hand Hark hast hath hear heart heaven Hect Hector Helen Helicanus hither honest honour king Lady live look lord Timon Lucullus Lysimachus Macb Macbeth Macd Macduff Marina Menelaus ne'er Nest Nestor never night noble Pandarus Patr Patroclus peace Pericles Poet pray Priam prince prince of Tyre prithee Rosse SCENE Serv Servant Shakspere sleep speak sweet sword tell Thai Thaisa thane Tharsus thee Ther there's Thersites thine thing thou art thought thyself Troilus Trojan Troy Tyre Ulyss What's Witch word worthy wouldst
Page 21 - The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts, And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry 'Hold, hold!
Page 31 - Methought I heard a voice cry 'Sleep no more ! Macbeth does murder sleep,' — the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast, — Lady M. What do you mean ? Macbeth. Still it cried 'Sleep no more !' to all the house: 'Glamis hath murder'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more ; Macbeth shall sleep no more.
Page 25 - 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. 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 16 - 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 29 - 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. Thou sure and firm-set earth, Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear Thy very stones prate of my whereabout, And take the present horror from the time, Which now suits with it.
Page 238 - Nothing but our undertakings ; when we vow to weep seas, live in fire, eat rocks, tame tigers ; thinking it harder for our mistress to devise imposition enough than for us to undergo any difficulty imposed. This is the monstruosity in love, lady, that the will is infinite, and the execution confined ; that the desire is boundless, and the act a slave to limit.
Page 25 - Like the poor cat i' the adage ?* Macb. Prithee, peace! I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more is none. Lady M. What beast was 't, then, That made you break this enterprise to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man; And, to be more than what you were, you would Be so much more the man.
Page 28 - 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. Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going ; And such an instrument I was to use. Mine eyes are made the fools o...
Page 172 - Come not to me again : but say to Athens, Timon hath made his everlasting mansion Upon the beached verge of the salt flood ; Who once a day with his embossed froth The turbulent surge shall cover : thither come, And let my grave-stone be your oracle.
Page 182 - Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait On purpose laid to make the taker mad: Mad in pursuit and in possession so; Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme; A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe; Before a joy proposed; behind a dream. All this the world well knows; 'yet none knows well To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell. cxxx My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips...