A few fragmentary thoughts about Shakespeare, a paper

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Page 17 - tis time to do't. Hell is murky. Fie, my lord, fie ! a soldier, and afeard? 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? No more o' that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with this starting.
Page 14 - We will proceed no further in this business. He hath honour'd me of late; and I have bought Golden opinions from all sorts of people, Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, Not cast aside so soon.
Page 23 - 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 Cleanse the stuffd bosom of that perilous stuff Which weighs upon the heart?
Page 22 - How many thousand of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep ! O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down And steep my senses in forgetfulness ? Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, Than in the perfumed chambers of the great...
Page 16 - Methought I heard a voice cry "Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep," the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast, — Lady M.
Page 16 - So brainsickly of things. Go get some water, And wash this filthy witness from your hand. Why did you bring these daggers from the place? They must lie there: go carry them, and smear The sleepy grooms with blood. MACB. I'll go no more: I am afraid to think what I have done; Look on't again I dare not.
Page 13 - Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office...
Page 13 - Upon the sightless couriers of the air, Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself And falls on the other.
Page 13 - 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...
Page 20 - To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess.

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