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againſt almoſt anſwer Aſide Banquo Beat Beatrice Benedick beſt blood brother cauſe Claud Claudio Clot conſcience conſtable couſin Cymbeline deſire doſt doth elſe Engliſh Enter Exeunt Exit falſe faſhion fear firſt Fleance France Harfleur haſt hath hear heart Henry Hero highneſs himſelf honeſt honour horſe houſe huſband Iach itſelf juſt Kath king lady laſt Leon Leonato leſs lord loſe loſt Macb Macbeth Macd Macduff majeſty maſter miſtreſs moſt muſt myſelf Pedro Piff Piſ pleaſe Poſt Poſthumus praiſe pray preſent prince priſoner purpoſe reaſon Roſe ſaid ſaw ſay SCENE ſee ſeek ſeem ſeen ſend ſervice ſet ſhall ſhalt ſhame ſhe ſhew ſhould ſignior ſir ſleep ſoldier ſome ſon ſoul ſpeak ſpirit ſtand ſtay ſtill ſtrange ſuch ſun ſure ſwear ſweet ſword tell thane thee there’s theſe thoſe thou thouſand truſt uſe whoſe wiſh Witch yourſelf
72. oldal - This story shall the good man teach his son; And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered...
22. oldal - 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?
10. oldal - Where some, like magistrates, correct at home, Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad, Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds, Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the...
29. oldal - Dear Duff, I pr'ythee, contradict thyself, And say, it is not so. Re-enter MACBETH and LENOX. Macb. 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.
42. oldal - 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.
70. oldal - I have lived long enough : my way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf ; And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have ; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
13. oldal - 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.
25. oldal - Infirm of purpose ! Give me the daggers : the sleeping and the dead Are but as pictures : 'tis the eye of childhood That fears a painted devil.
70. oldal - By Jove, I am not covetous for gold, Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost ; It yearns me not if men my garments wear ; Such outward things dwell not in my desires : But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive.
14. oldal - 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...