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ačt againſt anſwer aſk Banquo becauſe beſt Burton buſineſs Camillo cauſe deſire Duke elſe Enter Exeunt Exit expreſſion falſe firſt fool haſt hath himſelf honeſt honour houſe huſband i'the Illyria itſelf Johnson juſt King lady laſt leſs lord loſe loſt Macb Macbeth Macd Macduff madam Malvolio maſter means miſtreſs moſt muſt myſelf o'the obſerve occaſion paſſage paſt perſon pleaſe preſent purpoſe queen queſtion reaſon reſt Roſe S C E N E ſaid ſame ſaw ſay ſcene ſee ſeems ſeen ſenſe ſervant ſerve ſervice ſet Shakeſpeare ſhall ſhe ſhew ſhould read ſince ſir Sir Toby ſleep ſoldier ſome ſomething ſon ſoul ſpeak ſpeech ſpirit ſtand ſtate ſtay Steevens ſtill ſtrange ſuch ſuppoſe ſure ſwear ſweet ſword thee themſelves theſe thing thoſe thou art truſt underſtand uſed WAR Burton whoſe wiſh Witch word
330. oldal - By bud of nobler race: this is an art Which does mend nature, change it rather, but The art itself is nature.
417. oldal - 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.
268. oldal - That would unseen be wicked ? is this nothing ? Why, then the world, and all that's in't, is nothing; The covering sky is nothing ; Bohemia nothing; My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings, If this be nothing.
466. 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.
425. oldal - If we should fail? Lady M. We fail! But screw your courage to the sticking-place, And we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep — Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journey Soundly invite him — his two chamberlains Will I with wine and wassail so convince That memory, the warder of the brain, Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason A limbeck only...
428. 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?
407. oldal - New honours come upon him Like our strange garments ; cleave not to their mould. But with the aid of use. Macb. Come what come may ; Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.
460. oldal - 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 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...