Male Classical MACBETH by William Shakespeare, Act 1 Scene 7

Transcription

1 Male Classical 2019 MACBETH by William Shakespeare, Act 1 Scene 7 MACBETH: If it were done when tis done, then twere well It were done quickly: if the assassination Could trammel up the consequence, and catch With his surcease success; that but this blow Might be the be-all and end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, We d jump the life to come. But in these cases We still have judgment here; that we but teach Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice Commends the ingredients of our poison d chalice To our own lips. He s here in double trust; First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, Strong both against the deed; then, as his host, Who should against his murderer shut the door, Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duncan Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been So clear in his great office, that his virtues Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against The deep damnation of his taking-off; And pity, like a naked new-born babe 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 erleaps itself And falls on the other.

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3 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING by William Shakespeare, Act 2 Scene 3 BENEDICK: This can be no trick: the conference was sadly borne. They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady: it seems her affections have their full bent. Love me! Why, it must be requited. I hear how I am censured: they say I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come from her; they say too that she will rather die than give any sign of affection. I did never think to marry: I must not seem proud: happy are they that hear their detractions and can put them to mending. They say the lady is fair; 'tis a truth, I can bear them witness; and virtuous; 'tis so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving me; by my troth, it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her. I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have railed so long against marriage: but doth not the appetite alter? a man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his humour? No, the world must be peopled. When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married. Here comes Beatrice. By this day! she's a fair lady: I do spy some marks of love in her.

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5 JULIUS CAESAR by William Shakespeare Act 3 Scene 1 MARK ANTHONY: O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, That I am meek and gentle with these butchers! Thou art the ruins of the noblest man That ever lived in the tide of times. Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood! Over thy wounds now do I prophesy, Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips, To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue A curse shall light upon the limbs of men; Domestic fury and fierce civil strife Shall cumber all the parts of Italy; Blood and destruction shall be so in use And dreadful objects so familiar That mothers shall but smile when they behold Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war; All pity choked with custom of fell deeds: And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge, With Ate by his side come hot from hell, Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war; That this foul deed shall smell above the earth With carrion men, groaning for burial.

6 ROMEO AND JULIET by William Shakespeare Act 2, Scene 2 ROMEO: He jests at scars that never felt a wound. (JULIET appears above at a window) But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she: Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were! She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer it. I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night. See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek

7 TWELFTH NIGHT by William Shakespeare Act 4, Scene 3 SEBASTIAN: This is the air, that is the glorious sun, This pearl she gave me, I do feel t, and see t And though tis wonder that enwraps me thus, Yet tis not madness. Where s Antonio then? I cannot find him at the Elephant, Yet there he was, and there I found this credit, That he did range the town to seek me out. He counsel now might do me golden service: Through my soul disputes well with my sense That this may be some error, but no madness, Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune So far exceed all instance, all discourse, That I am ready to distrust mine eyes, And wrangle with my reason that persuades me To any other trust but that I am mad, Or else the lady s mad; yet if twere so, She could not sway her house, command her followers, Take and give back affairs and their dispatch, With such smooth, discreet, and stable bearing As I perceive she does. There s something in t That is deceivable. But here the lady comes.

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9 THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA by William Shakespeare, Act 2 Scene 3 LAUNCE: Nay, twill be this hour ere I have done weeping. All the kind of the Launces have this very fault. I have received my proportion, like the prodigious son, and am going with Sir Proteus to the Imperial s court. I think Crab my dog be the sourest-natured dog that lives: my mother weeping; my father wailing; my sister crying; our maid howling; our cat wringing her hands, and all our house in a great perplexity; yet did not this cruel-hearted cur shed one tear. He is a stone, a very pebble stone, and has no more pity in him than a dog. Why, my grandam, having no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my parting. Nay, I ll show you the manner of it. This shoe is my father. No, this left shoe is my father; no, no, this left shoe is my mother; nay, that cannot be so either. Yes, it is so, it is so; it hath the worser sole. This shoe with the hole in it is my mother; and this is my father. A vengeance on t, there tis. Now, sir, this staff is my sister; for, look you, she is as white as a lily, and as small as a wand. This hat is Nan our maid. I am the dog. No, the dog is himself, and I am the dog. O, the dog is me, and I am myself. Ay, so, so. Now come I to my father: Father, your blessing. I Now should not the shoe speak a word for weeping; now should I kiss my father; well, he weeps on; now I come to my mother. O that she could speak now, like a wood woman! Well, I kiss her. Why, there tis: here s my mother s breath up and down. Now come I to my sister; mark the moan she makes. Now the dog all this while sheds not a tear; nor speaks a work; but see how I lay the dust with my tears.

10 THE COMEDY OF ERRORS by William Shakespeare Act 3 Scene 2 ANTIPHOLUS OF SYRACUSE: Sweet mistress, what your name is else I know not, Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine; Less in your knowledge and your grace you show not Than our earth's wonder, more than earth divine. Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak; Lay open to my earthy gross conceit, Smother'd in errors, feeble, shallow, weak, The folded meaning of your words' deceit. Against my soul's pure truth, why labour you To make it wander in an unknown field? Are you a god? Would you create me new? Transform me then, and to your power I'll yield. But if that I am I, then well I know Your weeping sister is no wife of mine, Nor to her bed no homage do I owe; Far more, far more to you do I decline; 0, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note To drown me in thy sister's flood of tears; Sing, siren, for thyself, and I will dote; Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs, And as a bed I'll take thee, and there lie, And in that glorious supposition think He gains by death that hath such means to die; Let love, being light, be drowned if she sink.