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Antigonus Autolycus Bafi Baft Banquo Baptista Bian Bianca Bion blood Bohemia Camillo Clown Count daughter death dost doth Duke Eaceunt Enter Exeunt Exit eyes father fear Fleance fool friends Gent gentleman give Gremio hand hath hear heart heaven honour Hortensio Illyria JOHNS Kate Kath king knave knock lady look lord Lucentio Macb Macbeth Macd Macduff madam maid Malvolio marry master mean mistress Narbon never noble on’t Padua Petruchio pr’ythee pray queen Rath Re-enter ring Rosse Rousillon SCENE servant Shakspeare Shef signior Sir Toby Sir Toby BELCH Sirrah speak STEEV swear sweet tell thane thee there’s thine thing thou art thou hast thought Tranio WARB weird sisters What’s wife Witch woman word
Page 27 - 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.
Page 28 - Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses, Or else worth all the rest ; I see thee still, And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood, Which was not so before. There's no such thing : It is the bloody business which informs Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er the one...
Page 44 - 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 Makes wing to the rooky wood : Good things of day begin to droop and drowse; Whiles night's black agents to their prey do rouse.
Page 19 - Come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full Of direst cruelty ! make thick my blood ; Stop up the access and passage to remorse, That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between The effect and it!
Page 57 - Say there be; Yet nature is made better by no mean, But nature makes that mean: so, o'er that art, Which you say adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock, And make conceive a bark of baser kind By bud of nobler race: this is an art Which does mend nature, — change it rather; but The art itself is nature.
Page 48 - 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: This is more strange Than such a murder is.
Page 67 - Tis call'd the evil : A most miraculous work in this good king ; Which often, since my here-remain in England, I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven. Himself best knows : but strangely-visited people, All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye, The mere despair of surgery, he cures ; Hanging a golden stamp about their necks, Put on with holy prayers : and 'tis spoken, To the succeeding royalty he leaves The healing benediction.
Page 58 - What you do, Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet, I'd have you do it ever: when you sing, I'd have you buy and sell so; so give alms; Pray so ; and, for the ordering your affairs, To sing them too : When you do dance, I wish you A wave o...