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A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressèd 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.—Now o’er the one half world
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtain'd sleeper: witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate's offerings; and wither'd murder,
Alarum’d by his sentinel the wolf,
Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace,
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, toward his design
Moves like a ghost.—Thou sure and firm-set earth,
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
stones prate of my whereabout,
And take the present horror from the time,
Which now suits with it. Whiles 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.
GUTTURAL. The Guttural tone is produced by an explosive resonance
in the throat. It denotes all those states of mind classed under dislike and ill-humor. Prominent characteristic is a harsh, discordant quality. It is an impure tone. Low pitch and slow time.
How like a fawning publican he looks!
I hate him, for he is a Christian;
But more for that, in low simplicity,
He lends out money gratis, and brings down
The rate of usance here with us in Venice.
If I can catch him once upon the hip,
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.
He hates our sacred nation; and he rails,
Even there where merchants most do congregate,
On me, my bargains, and my
well won thrift, Which he calls interest. Cursed be
tribe If I forgive him.
Thou slave! thou wretch! thou coward !
Thou little valiant, great in villany!
Thou ever strong upon the stronger side!
Thou Fortune's champion, that dost never fight
But when her humorous ladyship is by
To teach thee safety !
Traitor! I go, but I return! This-trial !
Here I devote your senate! I've had wrongs
To stir a fever in the blood of age,
Or make the infant's sinews strong as steel.
This day 's the birth of sorrows; this hour's work
Will breed proscription. Look to your hearths, my lords,
For there, henceforth, shall sit, for household gods,
Shapes hot from Tartarus ;—all shames and crimes ;
Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn;
Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup;
Naked Rebellion, with the torch and axe,
Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones ;
Till Anarchy comes down on you like night,
And Massacre seals Rome's eternal grave.
“You common cry of curs ! whose breath I hate
As reek o' the rotten fens,—whose loves I prize
As the dead carcasses of unburied men,
That do corrupt my air,—I banish you ! ”
I'll have my bond ; I will not hear thee speak.
I'll have my bond; and, therefore, speak no more.
I'll not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool,
To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield
To Christian intercessors. Follow not.
I'll have no more speaking I will have
“Ye gods ! ye gods ! must I endure all this ?”
“Know ye not, then,” said Satan, filled with scorn,
“Know ye not me ?—Ye knew me once no mate
you ; there sitting where ye
durst not soar:
Not to know me argues yourselves unknown,-
The lowest of your throng.”
“ Let them pull all about mine ears; present me
Death on the wheel, or at wild horses' heels;
Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock,
That the precipitation might down stretch
Below the beam of sight; yet will I still
Be thus to them.”
The Pectoral Quality gives expression to deep-seated
anger, despair, great solemnity. It requires deep abdominal breathing ; is low in pitch; is usually accompanied by slow time; and is used in the supernatural.
I am thy father's spirit,-
Doomed for a certain term to walk the night;
And, for the day, confined to fast in fires,
Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature,
Are burned and purged away. But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison-house,
I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine.
Oh! I have passed a miserable night!
So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights,
That, as I am a Christian, faithful man,
I would not spend another such a night,
Though 't were to buy a world of happy days,
So full of dismal terror was the time !
Methought I heard a voice cry “Sleep no more!
Macbeth does murder sleep!”
Still it cried, “ Sleep no more! Glamis hath murdered sleep,
And therefore Cawdor shall sleep no more;
Macbeth shall sleep no more.”
They're gone! they're gone! the glimmering spark hath fled !
The wife and child are numbered with the dead.
On the cold earth, outstretched in solemn rest,
The babe lay frozen on its mother's breast.
The gambler came at last,—but all was o'er :
Dread silence reigned around—the clock struck four!
Avaunt! and quit my sight! Let the earth hide thee !
Thy boħes are marrowless, thy blood is cold ;
Thou hast no speculation in those eyes
Which thou dost glare with! Hence, horrible shadow!
Unreal mockery, hence !
Still it cried, “ Sleep no more," to all the house :
“Glamis hath murdered sleep, and therefore Cawdor
Shall sleep no more ; Macbeth shall sleep no more !”
That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel,
Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon,
Making night hideous; and we fools of nature,
So horribly to shake our dispositions
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls ?
“In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth on men, fear came upon me, and trembling, which made all my bones to shake. Then a spirit passed before my face: the hair of my flesh stood up. It stood still; but I could not discern the form thereof; an image was before mine eyes; there was silence; and I heard a voice saying, Shall mortal man be more just than God? Shall a man be more pure than his Maker?”
The Trembling tone is used in old age. It expresses
anxiety and intense desire.
You see me here, you gods, a poor old
As full of grief, as age; wretched in both!
If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts
Against their father, fool me not so much
To bear it tamely ; touch me with noble anger,
And let not women's weapons, water-drops,
Stain my man's cheeks !-Shakespeare.
Then suddenly rang a sharp, low cry!
Bess sank on her knees, and wildly tossed
Her withered arms in the summer sky,-
“O Willie! Willie !
The Lord be praised! after sixty years
I see you again! The tears you cost,
O Willie, darlin', were bitter tears !