Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim
horsed

Upon the sightless couriers of the air,
Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,
That tears shall drown the wind.-I have

no spur

To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition, which o'er-leaps itself,

And falls on the other side.-How now?

what news!

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player,

That struts and frets his hour upon the
stage,

And then is heard no more; it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

DUNCAN is in his grave;

Lady. He has almost supp'd; why THE REPOSE OF THE GRAVE. have you left the chamber? Macb. Hath he asked for me? Lady. Know you not he has ? Mach. 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 the newest gloss,

Not cast aside so soon.

Lady.
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

After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well;
Treason has done his worst; nor steel,
nor poison,

Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing,
Can touch him further.

THE VISIONARY DAGGER.
Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come,
let me clutch thee.

I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind; a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I draw.

Thou marshall'st me the way that I was
going;

And such an instrument I was to use.
Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other

senses,

Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still, And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,

Which was not so before.-There's no
such thing:

It is the bloody business, which informs
Thus to mine eyes.

REMORSE.

WHENCF is that knocking?

How is 't with me, when every noise appals me?

CORIOLANUS'S CONTEMPT FOR And call him noble that was now your

The fancy outwork nature: on each side CLEOPATRA'S SPEECH ON AP. her,

Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling

Cupids,

With divers-colour'd fans, whose wind did seem

To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,

And what they undid, did.

Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides,
So many mermaids, tended her i' the eyes,
And made their bends adornings; at the

helm

A seeming mermaid steers: the silken tackle

Swell with the touches of those flowersoft hands,

That yarely frame the office. From the
barge

A strange invisible perfume hits the sense
Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast
Her people out upon her; and Antony,
Enthroned i' the market-place, did sit
alone,

Whistling to the air; which, but for

PLYING THE SERPENT TO
HER BREAST..

GIVE me my robe, put on my crown;

I have

Immortal longings in me: now no more The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip:

Yare, yare, good Iras; quick-Methinks

I hear

Antony call; I see him rouse himself
To praise my noble act: I hear him mock
The luck of Cæsar, which the gods give

THE FOOL IN THE FOREST.
As You Like It.

A FOOL, a fool!—I met a fool i' the forest,
A motley fool-a miserable world!-
As I do live by food, I met a fool;
Who laid him down and bask'd him in
the sun,

And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good