Macbeth continued.] Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player, Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Act v. Sc. 5. To doubt the equivocation of the fiend, Act v. Sc. 5. Blow, wind! come, wrack! At least we 'll die with harness on our back. I bear a charmed life. Act v. Sc. 5. Act v. Sc. 7.1 And be these juggling fiends no more believ'd, That palter with us in a double sense; That keep the word of promise to our ear, And break it to our hope. Act v. Sc. 7.1 Live to be the show and gaze o' the time. Act v. Sc. 7.1 Lay on, Macduff; And damn'd be him that first cries, "Hold, enough!" Act v. Sc. 7.1 1 Act v. Sc. 7, White, Singer, Knight. Act v. Sc. 8, Cambridge, Dyce, Staunton. HAMLET. For this relief much thanks. Act i. Sc. I. But in the gross and scope of mine opinion, This bodes some strange eruption to our State. Act i. Sc. I. Does not divide the Sunday from the week. Act i. Sc. I. Doth make the night joint-labourer with the day. Acti. Sc. I. In the most high and palmy state of Rome, The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead Act i. Sc. I. And then it started, like a guilty thing Upon a fearful summons. Act i. Sc. I. Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, Act i. Sc. I. Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes 1 'can walk,' White, Knight. Hamlet continued.] No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallow'd and so gracious is the time. Act i. Sc. I. The morn, in russet mantle clad, Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill. Act i. Sc. I. With one auspicious, and one dropping eye, With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage, In equal scale weighing delight and dole. Act i. Sc. 2. The head is not more native to the heart. Act i. Sc. 2. A little more than kin, and less than kind. Act i. Sc. 2. Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know not seems. Act i. Sc. 2. But I have that within, which passeth show; These but the trappings and the suits of woe. Act i. Sc. 2. O, that this too, too solid flesh would melt, Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His canon 'gainst self-slaughter. O God! O God! That it should come to this! Act i. Sc. 2. Act i. Sc. 2. Hyperion to a satyr: so loving to my mother, That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Act i. Sc. 2. [Hamlet continued. Why, she would hang on him, As if increase of appetite had grown My father's brother, but no more like my father, Acti. Sc. 2. It is not, nor it cannot come to, good. Act i. Sc. 2. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral bak'd meats Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. Act i. Sc. 2. In my mind's eye, Horatio. Act i. Sc. 2. He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again. Act i. Sc. 2. Season your admiration for a while. Acti. Sc. 2. In the dead vast and middle of the night. Hamlet continued.] While one with moderate haste might tell a hun dred. It was, as I have seen it in his life, A sable silvered. Act i. Sc. 2. Act i. Sc. 2. The chariest maid is prodigal enough, Act i. Sc. 3. The canker galls the infants of the spring, Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, And recks not his own rede. Act i. Sc. 3. Give thy thoughts no tongue. Act i. Sc. 3. Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar : 1 'hooks,' Singer. |