Nothing in his life Became him like the leaving it; he died There's no art Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 4. To find the mind's construction in the face. Ibid. More is thy due than more than all can pay. Ibid. It is too full o' the milk of human kindness. Yet do I fear thy nature; What thou wouldst highly, Sc. 5. That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false, Ibia. That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose. Ibid. Your face, my thane, is as a book where men May read strange matters. To beguile the time, Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue : look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under 't. Ibid. Which shall to all our nights and days to come Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom. Ibid. This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air Sc. 6. Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself Unto our gentle senses. The heaven's breath Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze, Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle : If it were done when 't is done, then 't were well Ibid With his surcease success; that but this blow Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been And pity, like a naked new-born babe, Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, horsed That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur Ibid. I have bought Golden opinions from all sorts of people. Ibid. Letting "I dare not " wait upon "I would," Like the poor cat i' the adage.1 Ibid. I dare do all that may become a man; Ibid. But screw your courage to the sticking-place, And we 'll not fail. 1 See Heywood, page 14. Ibid. Is this a dagger which I see before me, thee. Come, let me clutch I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. To feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? Ibid. Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going. Ibid. Now o'er the one half-world Nature seems dead. Ibid. Thou sure and firm-set earth, Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear Ibid. Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell The bell invites me. That summons thee to heaven or to hell. It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman, Confounds us. The attempt and not the deed I had most need of blessing, and “Amen” Methought I heard a voice cry, "Sleep no more! 1 Act ii. sc. 1 in Dyce, Staunton, and White. Ibid. Sc. 2.1 Ibid.1 Ibid.1 The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Macbeth. Act ii. Sc. 2.1 Ibid.1 Infirm of purpose! 'Tis the eye of childhood Ibid.1 That fears a painted devil. Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red. The labour we delight in physics pain. Ibid.1 Sc. 3.2 The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence Ibid.2 The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of. Ibid.2 Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious, Loyal and neutral, in a moment? Ibid.2 There's daggers in men's smiles. Ibid.2 A falcon, towering in her pride of place, Sc. 4.8 Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up I must become a borrower of the night 1 Act ii. sc. 1 in Dyce, Staunton, and White. 2 Act ii. sc. 1 in Dyce and White; Act ii. sc. 2 in Staunton. 8 Act ii. sc. 2 in Dyce and White; Act ii. sc. 3 in Staunton. Ibid. Act ii. Sc. 1. Let every man be master of his time Till seven at night. Macbeth. Act iii. Sc. 1. Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown, And put a barren sceptre in my gripe, Thence to be wrench'd with an unlineal hand, Ibid. Mac. Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men. Ibid. That I would set my life on any chance, Ibid To mend it, or be rid on 't. Things without all remedy Should be without regard; what's done is done. We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it. Better be with the dead, Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace, Than on the torture of the mind to lie In restless ecstasy. Duncan is in his grave; After life's fitful fever he sleeps well: Treason has done his worst; nor steel, nor poison, Can touch him further. Sc. 2. Ibid. Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, Ibid. |