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Strana 167 - It is too full o' the milk of human kindness, To catch the nearest way : Thou would'st be great ; Art' not without ambition ; but without The illness should attend it. What thou would'st highly, That would'st thou holily ; would'st not play false, And yet would'st wrongly win : thou'd'st 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.
Strana 174 - 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.
Strana 166 - 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. 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.
Strana 169 - What beast ° was't then That made you break this enterprise to me ? When you durst do it, then you were a man ; And, to be more than what you were, you would 50 Be so much more the man.
Strana 169 - 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.
Strana 169 - I have given suck, and know How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me: I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums, And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this.
Strana 169 - 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 ? Would'st 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; th
Strana 169 - 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's! 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
Strana 174 - Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.