The plays and poems of Shakespeare, according to the improved text of E. Malone, with notes and illustr., ed. by A.J. Valpy, Band 6 |
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Seite 18
... hour 1 runs through the roughest day . Ban . Worthy Macbeth , we stay upon your lei- sure . Macb . Give me your favor : 2 - my dull brain was wrought 3 With things forgotten . Kind gentlemen , your pains Are register'd where every day I ...
... hour 1 runs through the roughest day . Ban . Worthy Macbeth , we stay upon your lei- sure . Macb . Give me your favor : 2 - my dull brain was wrought 3 With things forgotten . Kind gentlemen , your pains Are register'd where every day I ...
Seite 32
... hour to serve , Would spend it in some words upon that business , you would grant the time . If Ban . At your kind'st leisure . Macb . If you shall cleave to my consent , -when ' tis , It shall make honor for you . Ban . So I lose none ...
... hour to serve , Would spend it in some words upon that business , you would grant the time . If Ban . At your kind'st leisure . Macb . If you shall cleave to my consent , -when ' tis , It shall make honor for you . Ban . So I lose none ...
Seite 40
... hour . Macb . I'll bring you to him . Macd . I know , this is a joyful trouble to you ; But yet , ' tis one . Macb . The labor we delight in , physics pain . This is the door . Macd . I'll make so bold to call , For ' tis my limited 1 ...
... hour . Macb . I'll bring you to him . Macd . I know , this is a joyful trouble to you ; But yet , ' tis one . Macb . The labor we delight in , physics pain . This is the door . Macd . I'll make so bold to call , For ' tis my limited 1 ...
Seite 42
... hour before this chance , I had lived a 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 ...
... hour before this chance , I had lived a 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 ...
Seite 45
... Hours dreadful , and things strange ; but this sore night Hath trifled former knowings . Rosse . Ah , good father , Thou seest , the heavens , as troubled with man's act , Threaten his bloody stage by the clock , ' tis day , And yet ...
... Hours dreadful , and things strange ; but this sore night Hath trifled former knowings . Rosse . Ah , good father , Thou seest , the heavens , as troubled with man's act , Threaten his bloody stage by the clock , ' tis day , And yet ...
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Angiers arms art thou Arthur Attendants Aumerle Banquo BASTARD BISHOP OF CARLISLE Blanch blood Bolingbroke bosom breath castle cousin crown curse Dauphin dead death deed doth Duch duke Duncan Dunsinane England Enter KING Enter MACBETH Exeunt Exit eyes fair faith father Faulconbridge fear Fleance France friends Gaunt gentle give grace grief hand hath hear heart Heaven hither honor Hubert JAMES GURNEY John of Gaunt KING JOHN KING RICHARD knocking LADY MACBETH land liege live look lord Macb Macd Macduff majesty Melun mother murder night noble Northumberland PANDULPH peace prince Queen Rosse royal Salisbury SCENE SHAK shame sir Robert SIWARD sleep soldier sorrow soul speak sweet sword thane thane of Cawdor thee There's thine thou art thou hast thou shalt thyself tongue traitor uncle Witch words York
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 23 - The effect and it ! Come to my woman's breasts, And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell ! That my keen knife see not the wound it makes ; Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry, " Hold, hold ! "—Great Glamis ! worthy Cawdor ! Enter MACBETH.
Seite 17 - 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...
Seite 16 - Might yet enkindle you unto the crown, Besides the thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange : And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths ; Win us with honest trifles, to betray us In deepest consequence Cousins, a word, . I pray you.
Seite 33 - 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?
Seite 14 - If you can look into the seeds of time, And say, which grain will grow, and which will not, Speak then to me, who neither beg, nor fear, Your favours, nor your hate.
Seite 264 - This land of such dear souls, this dear, dear land, Dear for her reputation through the world, Is now leas'd out (I die pronouncing it), Like to a tenement, or pelting farm: England, bound in with the triumphant sea, Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame, With inky blots, and rotten parchment bonds: That England, that was wont to conquer others, Hath made a shameful conquest of itself.
Seite 27 - tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly : if the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch, With his surcease, success ; that but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, — We'd jump the life to come.
Seite 104 - She should have died hereafter ; There would have been a time for such a word, — To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time ; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle...
Seite 37 - 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. If he do bleed, I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal, For it must seem their guilt.
Seite 17 - 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 ? Present fears Are less than horrible imaginings : My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single state of man, that function Is smother'd in surmise ; and nothing is, But what is not '*. Ban, Look, how our partner's rapt.