Macbeth

Portada
J.B. Lippincott, 1915 - 566 páginas
 

Contenido

I
iii
II
7
III
14
IV
30
V
58
VI
67
VII
86
VIII
93
XVI
206
XVII
232
XVIII
236
XIX
243
XX
267
XXI
276
XXII
301
XXIII
309

IX
113
X
127
XI
144
XII
167
XIII
173
XIV
189
XV
200

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Página 93 - 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.
Página 481 - I hear a knocking At the south entry : retire we to our chamber : A little water clears us of this deed : How easy is it, then ! Your constancy Hath left you unattended.
Página 416 - Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer's cloud, Without our special wonder?
Página 160 - 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.
Página 362 - For mine own good, All causes shall give way : I am in blood Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er : Strange things I have in head, that will to hand ; Which must be acted ere they may be scann'd.
Página 471 - I have given suck, and know How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me: I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums, And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this.
Página 508 - Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses, Or else worth all the rest ; I see thee still, And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood, Which was not so before.
Página 151 - The which observed, a man may prophesy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life ; which in their seeds, And weak beginnings lie intreasured. Such things become the hatch and brood of time...
Página 136 - FROM my boyish days I had always felt a great perplexity on one point in Macbeth : it was this : the knocking at the gate, which succeeds to the murder of Duncan, produced to my feelings an effect for which I never could account: the effect was — that it reflected back upon the...
Página 80 - These are spots in your feasts of charity, when they feast with you, feeding themselves without fear: clouds they are without water, carried about of winds; trees whose fruit withereth, without fruit, twice dead, plucked up by the roots; Raging waves of the sea, foaming out their own shame; wandering stars, to whom is reserved the blackness of darkness for ever.

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