Macd. Humph! I guess at it. Rosse. Your castle is surpris'd; your wife and babes, Savagely slaughter'd: to relate the manner, Merciful heaven! Mal. What, man! ne'er pull your hat upon your brows; Give sorrow words: the grief, that does not speak, Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break. Macd. My children too? Rosse. That could be found. Wife, children, servants, all And I must be from thence! Macd. My wife kill'd too? I have said. Be comforted: Rosse. Mal. Let's nake us med'cines of our great revenge, To cure this deadly grief. Macd. He has no children.-All my pretty ones? Did you say, all?-O, hell-kite!-All? What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam, At one fell swoop? Mal. Dispute it like a man. Macd. But I must also feel it as a man: I shall do so; I cannot but remember such things were, That were most precious to me.--Did heaven look on And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff, They were all struck for thee! naught that I am, Not for their own demerits, but for mine, Fell slaughter on their souls: Heaven rest them now Mal. Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it. Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes, And braggart, with my tongue!--But, gentle heaven, Cut short all intermission;† front to front, Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself; Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape, Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may; The night is long, that never finds the day. ACT V. SCENE.-Enter Lady MACBETH, with "per. Gent. Lo you, here she comes! This is her very guise; and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her stand close. Doct. How came she by that light? Gent. Why, it stood by her: she has light by her continually; 'tis her command. Doct. You see her eyes are open. Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut. Doct. What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands. Gent. It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus washing her hands; I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour. Lady M. Yet here's a spot. Docl. Hark, she speaks: I will set down what comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more strongly. Lady M. Out, damned spot! out, I say!--One; -Hell is murTwo; Why, then 'tis time to do't:ky!*-Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afear'd? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account?--Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? Doct. Do you mark that? Lady M The thane of Fife had a wife; Where is she now?--What, will these hands ne'er be clean? * Dark. --No more o' that, my lord, no more o' that: You mar all with this starting. Doc. Go to, go tɔ; you have known what you should not. Gent. She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that: Heaven knows what she has known. Lady M. Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh! oh! oh! Doct. What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged. Gent. I would not have such a heart in my bosom, for the dignity of the whole body. Doct. Well, well, well, Gent. 'Pray God, it be, sir. Doct. This disease is beyond my practice: Yet I have known those which have walked in their sleep, who have died holily in their beds. Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so pale:-I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come out of his grave. Doct. Even so? Lady M. To bed, to bed; there's knocking at the gate. Come, come, come, come, give me your hand; What's done, cannot be undone: To bed, to bed, to bed. DESPISED OLD AGE. I have liv'd long enough: my way of life I must not look to have; but in their stead, DISEASES OF THE MIND INCURABLE. Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd; Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow; Raze out the written troubles of the brain; And, with some sweet oblivious antidote, Drv. Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff, REFLECTIONS ON LIFE. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools OTHELLO. ACT I. PREFERMENT. 'TIS the curse of service; Preferment goes by letter, and affection, JAGO'S DISPRAISE OF HONESTY. Whip me such honest knaves: Others there are, Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul; For sir, It is as sure as you are Roderigo, For when my outward action doth demonstrate LOVE, OTHELLO'S SOLE MOTIVE FOR MARRYING But that I love the gentle Desdemona, I would not my unhoused† free condition OTHELLO'S DESCRIPTION то THE SENATE OF HIS WINNING THE AFFECTIONS OF DESDEMONA. Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, My very noble and approv'd good masters, That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter, It is most true; true, I have married her; The very head and front of my offending Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace; For since these arms of mine hath seven years' pith. Till now some nine moons wasted, they have us❜d Their dearest action in the tented field; And little of this great world can I speak, More than pertains to feats of broil and battle; And therefore little shall I grace my cause, In speaking for myself: Yet, by your gracious pa tience, I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms, What conjurations, and what mighty magic, (For such proceeding I am charg'd withal) * Outward show of civility. + Best exertion. + Unsettled. |