Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Malc. Malc.
Malc. But Macbeth is.
Malc. A good and vertuous Nature may recoyle
Malc. In an Imperiall charge. But I shall craue your pardon:
Malc. That which you are, my thoughts cannot transpose;
Malc. Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.
Malc. Though all things foule, would wear the brows of grace
Malc. Yet Grace must still looke so.
Macd. Macd.
Macd. I haue lost my Hopes.
Malc. Perchance euen there
Malc. Where I did finde my doubts.
Malc. Why in that rawnesse left you Wife, and Childe?
Malc. Those precious Motiues, those strong knots of Loue,
Malc. Without leaue‑taking. I pray you,
Malc. Let not my Iealousies, be your Dishonors,
Malc. But mine owne Safeties: you may be rightly iust,
Malc. What euer I shall thinke.