The Tragedy of Macbeth

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Scribner's, 1910 - 210 pages
 

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Page 25 - 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.
Page 11 - This supernatural soliciting Cannot be ill ; cannot be good : — If ill, Why hath it given me earnest of success, Commencing in a truth ? I am thane of Cawdor : If good, why do I yield to that suggestion Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair, And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, Against the use of nature...
Page 15 - 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 21 - 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 50 - What man dare, I dare: Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger; Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves Shall never tremble...
Page 32 - Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had liv'da blessed time; for, from this instant, There's nothing serious in mortality : All is but toys : renown, and grace, is dead ; The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.
Page 43 - MACBETH. How now, my lord ! why do you keep alone, Of sorriest* fancies your companions making ; Using those thoughts which should indeed have died With them they think on ? Things without all remedy Should be without regard : what's done is done.
Page 17 - Your face, my thane, is as a book, where men May read strange -matters: — to beguile the time, Look like the time ; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue : look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it...
Page 39 - Reigns that which would be fear'd: 'tis much he dares, And, to that dauntless temper of his mind, He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour To act in safety.
Page 43 - But let the frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer, Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep In the affliction of these terrible dreams, That shake us nightly...

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