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arms Attendants bear blood bring brother cause comes CORN crown daughter dead dear death dost doth Earl earth Edward Enter Exeunt Exit eyes fair fall farewell father fear follow Fool fortune France friends Gaveston give Glou gone grace Hamlet hand hast hath head hear heart heaven hence Highness hold honour ISAB keep KENT king LADY LAER Laertes LEAR leave letter light live look lord MACB Macbeth MacD madam matter means mind Mortimer mother murder nature never night noble once play poor pray Pros QUEEN rest SCENE sister sleep Soldiers soul speak Spencer spirit stand stay strange sweet sword tell thank thee thine thing thou thought traitor true WITCH young
Seite 326 - WITCH. Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake; Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg, and howlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Seite 379 - I' the commonwealth I would by contraries Execute all things ; for no kind of traffic Would I admit ; no name of magistrate ; Letters should not be known ; riches, poverty, And use of service, none ; contract, succession, Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none ; No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil ; No occupation ; all men idle, all ; And women too, but innocent and pure ; No sovereignty ; — Seb.
Seite 128 - That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.—Something too much of this...
Seite 119 - peasant slave am I ! Is it not monstrous that this player here, But in a fiction, in a dream of passion, Could force his soul so to his own conceit That from her working all his visage wann'd ; Tears in his eyes, distraction in 's aspect, A broken voice, and his whole function suiting With forms to his conceit ? and all for nothing...
Seite 172 - Alas! poor Yorick. I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy; he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chapfallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her...
Seite 316 - Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck. 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...
Seite 113 - I have of late — but wherefore I know not — lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.
Seite 225 - If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts Against their father, fool me not so much To bear it tamely : touch me with noble anger ! And let not women's weapons, water-drops, Stain my man's cheeks !— No, you unnatural hags, I will have such revenges on you both, That all the world shall — I will do such things — What they are yet I know not ; but they shall be The terrors of the earth.
Seite 94 - Revisits thus the glimpses of the moon, Making night hideous and we fools of nature So horridly to shake our disposition With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?
Seite 320 - Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden time, Ere human statute purg'd the gentle weal ; Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'd Too terrible for the ear : the time has 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.