Imatges de pàgina
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Which was not so before. There's no such thing.
It is the bloody business, which informs

Thus to mine eyes. Now, o'er one half the world
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtain'd sleep: now witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate's offerings; and wither'd Murder,
Alarm'd by his sentinel, the wolf,

Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace,
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, tow'rds his design
Moves like a ghost. Thou sound and firm-set earth,
Hear not, my steps, which way they walk, for fear
The very stones prate of my whereabout,
And take the present horror from the time,
Which now suits with it. Whilst I threat, he lives-
Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.

I go, and it is done; the bell invites me:
Hear it not Duncan, for it is a knell
That summons thee to heaven or to hell.

[A bell rings.]

[Enter Lady Macbeth.] hath made me bold: Hark! peace!!

Lady. That which hath made them drunk,
What hath quench'd them, hath given me fire.
It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman,
Which gives the stern'st good-night-he is about it—
The doors are open; and the surfeited grooms

Do mock their charge with snores. I have drugg'd their possets.
That death and nature do contend about them,
Whether they live or die.

Macb. [Within.] Who's there?—what ho!

Lady. Alack! I am afraid they have awak'd; And 'tis not done. Th' attempt, and not the deed, Confounds us. Hark! I laid their daggers ready; He could not miss 'em. Had he not resembled My father as he slept, I

Mach.

[Enter Macbeth.] had done 't. My husband. I've done the deed-didst thou not hear a noise?

Lady. I heard the owl scream, and the crickets cry. Did not you speak? Macb.

When?

Lady. Now.

Macb. As I descended?

Lady. Ay.

Macb. Hark!-who lies i' th' second chamber?

Lady. Donalbain.

Macb. This is a sorry sight.

Lady. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.

[Looks on his hands.]

Mach. There's one did laugh in 's sleep, and one cried, Murder!

That they did wake each other; I stood and heard them;

But they did say their prayers, and address'd them

Again to sleep.

Lady. There are two lodg'd together.

Mach. One cried, God bless us! and Amen! the other;

As they had seen me with these hangman's hands,

Listening their fear, I could not say, Amen,

When they did say God bless us.

Lady. Consider it not so deeply.

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Mach. But wherefore could not I pronounce Amen! I had most need of blessing, and Amen

Stuck in my throat.

Lady. These deeds must not be thought,

After these ways; so, it will make us mad.

Macb. Methought I heard a voice cry, Sleep no more!
Macbeth does murder sleep-the innocent sleep-

Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleeve 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. What do you mean?

Mach. Still it cry'd, Sleep no more, to all the house;
Glamis hath murder'd sleep. And therefore Cawdor
Shall sleep no more; Macbeth shall sleep no more!

Lady. Who was it that thus cry'd? Why, worthy Thane,
You do unbend your noble strength, to think

So brain-sickly 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.

Lady. Infirm of purpose:

Give me the daggers. The sleeping and the dead
Are but as pictures; 'tis the eye of childhood

That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed,
I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal,
For it must seem their guilt.

[Exit.]

[Knocking within.]

Macb. Whence is that knocking! [Starting.]
How is't with me, when every noise appals me?
What hands are here?-ha! they pluck out mine eyes.
Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood

Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather
The multitudinous seas incarnardine,

Making the green one red

[Enter Lady Macbeth.]

Lady. My hands are of your colour; but I shame

To wear a heart so white. [Knock.] I hear a knocking

At the south entry. Retire we to our chamber;

A little water clears us of this deed,

How easy is it then? Your constancy

Hath left you unattended. [Knocking.] Hark, more knocking!

Get on your night-gown, lest occasion call us,

And show us to be watchers. Be not lost

So poorly in your thoughts.

Macb. To know my deed, 't were best not know myself. [Knock.] Wake, Duncan, with this knocking. Ay, 'would thou could'st!

[Exeunt.]

MARK ANTONY OVER CESAR'S BODY.

Ant. Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears.

I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones:
So let it be with Cæsar. Noble Brutus
Hath told you Cæsar was ambitious;
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath Cæsar answer'd it.
Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest,
(For Brutus is an honourable man,

So are they all, all honourable men,)
Come I to speak in Cæsar's funeral.

He was my friend, faithful and just to me;
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;

And Brutus is an honourable man.

He hath brought many captives home to Rome,
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill.

Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious?

When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept;
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;

And Brutus is an honourable man.

You all did see that, on the Lupercal,

I thrice presented him a kingly crown,

Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;

And, sure, he is an honourable man.

I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke;
But here I am to speak what I do know.
You all did love him once, not without cause:
What cause withholds you then to mourn for him?
Oh, judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts,

And men have lost their reason! Bear with me:

My heart is in the coffin there with Cæsar,

And I must pause till it come back to me.

First Cit. Methinks there is much reason in his sayings.

Sec. Cit. If thou consider rightly of the matter,

Cæsar has had great wrong.

Third Cit. Has he, masters? I fear there will a worse come in his place. Fourth Cit. Mark'd ye his words? He would not take the crown; Therefore 'tis certain he was not ambitious.

First Cit. If it be found so, some will dear abide it.
Sec. Cit. Poor soul! his eyes are red as fire with weeping.
Third Cit. There's not a nobler man in Rome than Antony.
Fourth Cit. Now, mark him, he begins again to speak.
Ant. But yesterday, the word of Cæsar might

Have stood against the world; now lies he there,

And none so poor to do him reverence.

Oh, masters! If I were dispos'd to stir
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,
I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong,

Who, you all know, are honourable men.

I will not do them wrong: I rather choose
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,
Than I will wrong such honourable men.
But here's a parchment with the seal of Cæsar:
I found it in his closet; 'tis his will.

Let but the commons hear this testament

(Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read),

And they would go and kiss dead Cæsar's wounds,

And dip their napkins in his sacred blood;

Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,

And dying, mention it within their wills,
Bequeathing it as a rich legacy

Unto their issue.

Fourth Cit. We'll hear the will; read it, Mark Antony.
All. The will! the will! We will hear Cæsar's will!
Ant. Have patience, gentle friends! I must not read it;
It is not meet you know how Cæsar lov'd you.
You are not wood, you are not stones, but men;
And, being men, hearing the will of Cæsar,
It will inflame you, it will make you mad.
'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs;
For if you should, Oh, what would come of it!

Fourth Cit. Read the will; we will hear it, Antony:

You shall read us the will; Cæsar's will!

Ant. Will you be patient? will you stay awhile?

I have o'ershot myself, to tell you of it.

I fear I wrong the honourable men

Whose daggers have stabb'd Cæsar. I do fear it.

Fourth Cit. They were traitors. Honourable men!

All. The will! the testament!

Sec. Cit. They were villains, murderers! The will! Read the will!

Ant. You will compel me, then, to read the will?

Then make a ring about the corpse of Cæsar,

And let me show you him that made the will.

Shall I descend? And will you give me leave?

Come down.

All.
Sec. Cit.

Descend.

Third Cit. You shall have leave.

Fourth Cit. A ring! Stand round!

[He comes down from the pulpit.j

First Cit. Stand from the hearse, stand from the body.

Sec. Cit. Room for Antony-most noble Antony!

Ant. Nay, press not so upon me; stand far off.

All. Stand back! room! bear back!

Ant. If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.

You all do know this mantle. I remember

The first time ever Cæsar put it on;

'Twas on a summer's evening in his tent,

That day he overcame the Nervii.

Look! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through;
See, what a rent the envious Casca made!
Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd;
And, as he plucked his cursed steel away,
Mark how the blood of Cæsar followed it!
As rushing out of doors, to be resolv'd

If Brutus so unkindly knock'd or no.

For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar's angel;

Judge, Oh you gods! how dearly Cæsar lov'd him.
This was the most unkindest cut of all;

For when the noble Cæsar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms,
Quite vanquish'd him; then burst his mighty heart:
And, in his mantle muffling up his face,

Even at the base of Pompey's statue,

Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fell.

Oh, what a fall was there, my countrymen!
Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,
Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us.
Oh, now you weep; and I perceive you feel

The dint of pity: these are gracious drops.

Kind souls! What! weep you when you but behold
Our Cæsar's vesture wounded! Look you here!
Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.
First Cit. O piteous spectacle!

Sec. Cit. O noble Cæsar!

Third Cit. O woful day!

Fourth Cit. O traitors! villains!

First Cit. O most bloody sight!

Sec Cit. We will be reveng'd! Revenge! About-seek-burn-firekill-slay! Let not a traitor live!

[Julius Cæsar.]

The plays of Shakspeare which we have not had occasion, in the course of our remarks, to notice, and those from which we have made no selections, are the following:-Comedy of Errors, Love's Labour Lost, Taming of the Shrew, King John, All's Well that Ends Well, Troilus and Cressida, Timon of Athens, Cymbeline, Coriolanus, and the Winter's Tale. He was the author of numerous Sonnets also, many of which are marked by peculiar delicacy and beauty.

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