[Macbeth continued. 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. Act ii. Sc. 1.1 Confusion now hath made his master-piece. Ibid.2 The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of. Ibid.2 A falcon, towering in her pride of place, Act ii. Sc. 2.3 I must become a borrower of the night, Act iii. Sc. 1. Upon my head they plac'd a fruitless crown, Ibid. 1 Act ii. Sc. 1, White, Dyce, Staunton. Act ii. Sc. 2, Cambridge, Singer, Knight. 2 Act ii. Sc. 1, White, Dyce. Act ii. Sc. 2, Staunton. Act ii. Sc. 3, Cambridge, Singer, Knight. 3 Act ii. Sc. 2, White, Dyce. Act ii. Sc. 3, Staunton Act ii. Sc. 4, Cambridge, Singer, Knight. Macbeth continued.] Mur. We are men, my liege. Mac. Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men. Act iii. Sc. I. I am one, my liege, Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world Have so incensed, that I am reckless what Ibid. Things without all remedy, Should be without regard: what's done is done. Act. iii. Sc. 2. We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it. Ibid. 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 To saucy doubts and fears. But now, I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confin'd, bound in Now, good digestion wait on appetite, And health on both! Thou canst not say I did it: never shake Ibid. Act iii. Sc. 4. Thy gory locks at me. Ibid. [Macbeth continued. The air-drawn dagger. Act iii. Sc. 4. The times have been, That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end; but now they rise again, Thou hast no speculation in those eyes, What man dare, I dare: Ibid. Ibid. Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger; Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves Shall never tremble. Hence, horrible shadow ! Ibid. Almost at odds with morning, which is which. Double, double toil and trouble. Ibid. Act iv. Sc. 1. Eye of newt, and toe of frog. Ibid. Macbeth continued.] Black spirits and white, You that mingle may.1 Act iv. Sc.1. By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes: Open, locks, whoever knocks. Ibid. How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags? What will the line stretch out to the crack of Our fears do make us traitors. Activ. Sc. 2. Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell. Activ. Sc. 3. Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, All unity on earth. Ibid. This song is found entire in "The Witch" by Thomas Middleton, Act v. Sc. 2, (Works, ed. Dyce,) iii. 328, and is there called A Charme Song about a Vessel. Stands Scotland where it did? [Macbeth continued. Act iv. Sc. 3. Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak Whispers the o'er-fraught heart,and bids it break. Ibid. What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam, I cannot but remember such things were, Ibid. Ibid. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes, Ibid. Out, damned spot! out, I say! Act v. Sc. 1. Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? Ibid. Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him. Ibid. All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. My way of life1 Ibid. Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf; Doct. not. Not so sick, my lord, As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies, That keep her from her rest. 1 Johnson would read, 'May of life.' |