Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Macd. Macd.
Macd. I shall do so:
Macd. Nn2
Macd. But
Macd. The Tragedie of Macbeth.
Macd. But I must also feele it as a man;
Macd. I cannot but remember such things were
Macd. That were most precious to me: Did heauen looke on,
Macd. And would not take their part? Sinfull Macduff,
Macd. They were all strooke for thee: Naught that I am,
Macd. Not for their owne demerits, but for mine
Macd. Fell slaughter on their soules: Heauen rest them now.
Mal. Mal.
Mal. Be this the Whetstone of your sword, let griefe
Mal. Conuert to anger: blunt not the heart, enrage it.
Macd. O I could play the woman with mine eyes,
Macd. And Braggart with my tongue. But gentle Heauens,
Macd. Cut short all intermission: Front to Front,
Macd. Bring thou this Fiend of Scotland, and my selfe