Macb. I would applaud thee to the very echo, Macb. Wherefore was that cry? Sey. The Queen, my lord, is dead. Macb. She should have died hereafter; There would have been a time for such a word. The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Macb. Blow wind! come wrack! At least we'll die with harness on our back. Act 5, Sc. 5. Macd. Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath, Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death. Macd. Act 5, Sc. 6. Turn, hell-hound, turn! Macb. Of all men else I have avoided thee: But get thee back; my soul is too much charg'd Macd. I have no words: Macb. Thou losest labour : As easy mayst thou the intrenchant air With thy keen sword impress as make me bleed : Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests; Macd. Despair thy charm; Macb. Accursed be that tongue that tells me so, And break it to our hope. I'll not fight with thee. Macd. Then yield thee, coward, Macb. And live to be the show and gaze o' the time: We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are, Painted upon a pole, and underwrit, 'Here may you see the tyrant.' I will not yield, To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet, I throw my warlike shield. Lay on, Macduff, Horatio. HAMLET. I have heard, The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, The extravagant and erring spirit hies Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.-Act I, Sc. I. King. But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my son- Ham. 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black, Together with all forms, modes, shapes of grief, Act 1, Sc. 2. Ham. Oh 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! * This passage is probably copied from T. Sackville Lord Buckhurst's "Tragedy of Ferrex and Porrex" (1561) : Videna. : A father? no: In kinde a father, not in kindlinesse. Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't! O fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother, By what it fed on. And yet, within a month,— Let me not think on't-Frailty, thy name is woman— With which she follow'd my poor father's body, O heaven! a beast, that wants discourse of reason, Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears It is not, nor it cannot come to, good.— But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue! Ham. My father!—methinks I see my father. Ham. Act 1, Sc. 2. In my mind's eye, Horatio. Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all, Hor. I saw him once; he was a goodly king. I shall not look upon his like again.—Act 1, Sc. 2. * Suffer. Laertes. The chariest maid is prodigal enough, Act 1, Sc. 3. Ophelia. Do not as some ungenerous pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven; Polonius. My blessing with thee! And these few precepts in thy memory See thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. Beware Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee. Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy; For the apparel oft proclaims the man, And they in France of the best rank and station * Regards not his own counsel. |