My way of life* Is fall'n into the sear-the yellow leaf; MACBETH. 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, * May of life has been suggested as a better reading by some critics. DOCTOR. Therein the patient Must minister to himself. MACBETH. Throw physic to the dogs-I'll none of it. Come, put mine armour on; give me my staff. Seyton, send out. Doctor, the thanes fly from me. Come, sir, despatch. If thou could'st, doctor, cast The water of my land, find her disease, And purge it to a sound and pristine health, I would applaud thee to the very echo, That should applaud again. Act v. Scene 3. Hang out our banners on the outward walls;* The cry is still, "They come." Act v. Scene 5. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, * Much controversy has occurred as to the correct punctuation of this passage, some critics contending that it should be thus "Hang out our banners; on the outward walls The cry is still, 'They come." " And then is heard no more; it is a tale Act v. Scene 5. At least we'll die with harness on our back. Ibid. Of all men else, I have avoided thee. And be these juggling fiends no more believ❜d, That keep the word of promise to our ear, And break it to our hope. Ibid. KING JOHN. Lord of thy presence, and no land beside. Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it, Act III. Thou ever strong upon the strongest side! Scene I. Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame, And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. Act III. Scene 1. No Italian priest, Shall tithe or toll in our dominions. Within this wall of flesh There is a soul counts thee her creditor. Ibid. Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Act IV. Scene 2. I saw a smith stand with his hammer thus, The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool, With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news. Ibid, It is the curse of kings to be attended By slaves that take their humours for a warrant, Ibid. This England never did, nor never shall, O, who can hold a fire in his hand, Act 1. This precious stone set in the silver sea, Against the envy of less happier lands; Scene 3. This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England. Act 11. Scene 1. |