Subjection I disdain'd: thought one step higher mean, Drawn to his part. But other pow'rs as great Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. Self Condemnation. Anguish. Reflect on loft happin Had'st thou the same free-will, and pow'r to Self con stand? Thou had'st; whom hast thou then, or what t' accuse, But Heaven's free love dealt equally to all? Nay curs'd be thou; since against his, thy will demnation: Blafphemy.. Rage. self condemn. Desperation Effay to ward repen. * Pride. Anguifka Pride. Malice. Under what torments inwardly I groan, But say I could repent, and could obtain, What feign'd submission swore? ease would recant Where wounds of deadly hate have pierc'd so deep, Obdur. By thee, and more than half, perhaps, shall reign;: Malice bent As man, ere long, and this new world shall know. on mischief Liftening. XLII. WALKING IN SLEEP, AND A DIS- Enter LADY MACBETH, (1) with a taper. LOOK Gent. OOK you! here she comes. This is her guise. Observe her. Stand close. (1) The pupil, if he has not seen MACBETH, muft be informed, that Duncan, one of the ancient kings of Scotland, was, according to Buchanan and other hiftorians, murdered by Macbeth, one of the nobles of that kingdom, at the inftigation of his lady, in Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut. Doct. Wonder. What is it she does now? Look how Attention. she rubs her hands. Gent. It is an accustomed action with her to seem thus washing her hands. I have known Guilt. her continue this a quarter of an hour. La. Macb. Yet here's a spot. (1) Doct. Hark, she speaks. La. Macb. Out, cursed spot. Out, I say Guilt. (2) One, two. Now is the time to do it-Hell Horror. is murky-Fie, my lord! A soldier afraid! Encourag. What need we fear? Who knows it? Who has power to call us to account?-But, who could Guilt. have thought the old man had so much blood in him? Gent. Do you mark that? Atten. with La. Macb. The Thane of Fife is a married Sufpicion. man. Where is his wife now? Murdered, did Guilt. you say? Who could be so bloody to mangle such sweetness 2- -What, will these hands never be clean? No more of that, my lord; no more of Encourag. that. You mar all with your starting. Here is the smell of blood still -All the per- Guilt. fumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hånd. Oh! oh! oh! Anguifh. Doct. What a sigh was there! That heart is Sufpicion. sorely charged. This disease is beyond my prac tice. La. Macb. Wash your hands, put on your Encourage. night gown. Take courage-I tell you, Banquo is buried, all but the blood that was shed at his dispatching; and that has no likeness to be known by. Are afraid that he'll come out Fear. of his grave again? To bed, to bed, to bed. you their own house, in order to Macbeth's afcending the throne; and that Shakespeare, in this fcene, intends to reprefent her troubled in her fleep with guilt and fear. (1) There must be but little emphafis ufed in expreffing what La dy Macbeth fays, because it is but dreaming. (2) “One, two,” must be spoken as counting a great clock, 4 There is a knocking at the gate. Come, come, come. What is done cannot be undone. To bed,. to bed, to bed. XLIII. INTREATING. COMPLAINT OF INJURY. REFUSING. The Embassy from Agamemnon to Achilles, (after the latter had, in disgust, retired from the army) to endeavour to prevail with him to reburn, and join the allies against the Trojans. Ulysses at table, in Achilles's tent, speaks. Submiffion. HEALTH to Achilles! Happy are thy guests! Not those more honor'd whom Atrides feasts: Anxiety. But greater cares sit heavy on our souls; Not eas'd by banquets, or by flowing bowls. Sympathy. What scenes of slaughter in yon fields appear, The dead we mourn, and for the living fear. Apprehen. Greece on the brink of fate all doubtful stands, And owns no help, but from thy saving hands. Troy, and her sons, for ready vengeance call; Their threat'ning tents already shade our wall. Hear how with shouts their conquests they proclaim, Terror. And point at ev'ry ship the vengeful flame.. Awe with For them the Father of the gods declares; Apprehen. Theirs are his omens, and his thunder theirs. See, full of Jove, avenging Hector rise! All human force the raging chief defies; What fury in his breast, what light'ning in his eyes! He waits but for the morn, to sink in flame To save thy Greeks, and stop the course of fate; Rise to redeem: Ah yet to conquer rise. The day may come, when, all our warriors slain, Warning. That heart shall melt, that courage rise in vain. He afterwards enumerates the advantageous conditions offered by Agamemnon, to engage him to return. To all which Achilles gives the following answer. -Ulysses! (1)-hear A faithful speech, that knows nor art, nor fear, Who yields ignobly, or who bravely dies. In search of prey she wings the spacious air, (1) " Ules!" is to be spoken as a whole fentence. Stern Firm nefs. Displeasure Sneer with Refolution |