The Handy-volume Shakspeare [ed. by Q.D.]. |
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... Sleep shall neither night nor day Hang upon his pent - house lid ; He shall live a man forbid : Weary seven - nights , nine times nine , Shall he dwindle , peak , and pine : Though his bark cannot be lost , Yet it shall be tempest ...
... Sleep shall neither night nor day Hang upon his pent - house lid ; He shall live a man forbid : Weary seven - nights , nine times nine , Shall he dwindle , peak , and pine : Though his bark cannot be lost , Yet it shall be tempest ...
Сторінка 21
... sleep Their drenched natures lie , as in a death , What cannot you and I perform upon The unguarded Duncan ? what not put upon His spongy officers ; who shall bear the guilt Of our great quell ? Macb . Bring forth men - children only ...
... sleep Their drenched natures lie , as in a death , What cannot you and I perform upon The unguarded Duncan ? what not put upon His spongy officers ; who shall bear the guilt Of our great quell ? Macb . Bring forth men - children only ...
Сторінка 22
... . Ban . Hold , take my sword . - There's hus- bandry in heaven , Their candles are all out . - Take thee that too . A heavy summons lies like lead.upon me , And yet I would not sleep . Merciful powers ! 22 ACT II . MACBETH .
... . Ban . Hold , take my sword . - There's hus- bandry in heaven , Their candles are all out . - Take thee that too . A heavy summons lies like lead.upon me , And yet I would not sleep . Merciful powers ! 22 ACT II . MACBETH .
Сторінка 23
William Shakespeare Q D. And yet I would not sleep . Merciful powers ! Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature Gives way to in repose ! —Give me my sword ; Enter MACBETH , and a Servant with a torch . Who's there ? Macb . A friend ...
William Shakespeare Q D. And yet I would not sleep . Merciful powers ! Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature Gives way to in repose ! —Give me my sword ; Enter MACBETH , and a Servant with a torch . Who's there ? Macb . A friend ...
Сторінка 24
... 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 ...
... 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 ...
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arms attend Banquo bear beauty better birds blood break breast breath cheeks cold comes dead dear death deed deep desire dost doth Enter eyes face fair fall false fear fight fire flower foul gentle give grace grief hand hast hate hath head hear heart heaven hold honour hope hour keep kind king kiss Lady leave lies light lips live look lord love's Lucrece lust Macb Macbeth Macd means mind murder nature never night once pity poor praise quoth rest Rosse round shame sight sleep sometime sorrow soul speak stand strong sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thought thyself tongue true truth weep wind Witch worth wound youth
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Сторінка 22 - 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...
Сторінка 247 - That time of year thou may'st in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. In me thou seest the glowing of such fire, That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, As the death-bed whereon it must expire, Consumed with that...
Сторінка 314 - The rest complains of cares to come. The flowers do fade, and wanton fields To wayward winter reckoning yields. A honey tongue, a heart of gall Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.
Сторінка 260 - That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him. Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue, Could make me any summer's story tell...
Сторінка 89 - I have almost forgot the taste of fears. The time has been my senses would have cool'd To hear a night-shriek, and my fell of hair Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir As life were in't. I have supp'd full with horrors; Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, Cannot once start me.
Сторінка 227 - Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy ; Anon permit the basest clouds to ride With ugly rack on his celestial face, And from the forlorn world his visage hide, Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace...
Сторінка 212 - When forty winters shall besiege thy brow, And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field, Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now, Will be a tatter'd weed, of small worth held : Then being ask'd where all thy beauty lies, Where all the treasure of thy lusty days, — To say, within thine own deep-sunken eyes, Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise. How much more praise deserved thy beauty's use, If thou couldst answer — "This fair child of mine Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse...
Сторінка 20 - The Prince of Cumberland! that is a step On which I must fall down, or else o'erleap, 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.
Сторінка 226 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's •waste : Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe, And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight...
Сторінка 17 - 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...