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Page 482 - Was the hope drunk Wherein you dress'd yourself? Hath it slept since? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely ? From this time Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valour As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem, Letting "I dare not" wait upon "I would," Like the poor cat i
Page 480 - This supernatural soliciting Cannot be ill ; cannot be good : If ill, Why hath it given me earnest of success, Commencing in a truth ? I am thane of Cawdor : If good, why do I yield to that suggestion, Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair, And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, Against the use of nature...
Page 491 - Tis two or three, my lord, that bring you word, Macduff is fled to England. Macb. Fled to England? Len. Ay, my good lord. Macb. Time, thou anticipat'st my dread exploits : The flighty purpose never is o'ertook, Unless the deed go with it. From this moment The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand. And even now, To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done. The castle of Macduff I will surprise ; Seize upon Fife ; give to the edge o' the sword His wife, his babes,...
Page 482 - 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 476 - It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way : thou wouldst be great ; Art not without ambition, but without The illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly, That wouldst thou holily ; wouldst not play false, And yet wouldst wrongly win: thou'dst have, great Glamis, That which cries ' Thus thou must do, if thou have it; And that which rather thou dost fear to do Than wishest should be undone.
Page 476 - Glamis thou art, and Cawdor, and shalt be What thou art promised : yet do I fear thy nature; \ It is too full o' the milk of human kindness To catch the nearest way...
Page 497 - 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 mor.e o' that : you mar all with this starting.
Page 485 - Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had liv'da blessed time; for, from this instant, There's nothing serious in mortality : All is but toys : renown, and grace, is dead ; The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.
Page 491 - I have almost forgot the taste of fears : The time has been, my senses would have cool'd To hear a night-shriek ; and my fell of hair Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir As life were in't : I have supp'd full with horrors ; Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts, Cannot once start me.
THE BRITISH JOURNAL OF PSYCHIATRY