Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Macb. Macb.
Macb. Blood hath bene shed ere now, i'th'olden time
Macb. Ere humane Statute purg'd the gentle Weale:
Macb. I, and since too, Murthers haue bene perform'd
Macb. Too terrible for the eare. The times has bene,
Macb. That when the Braines were out, the man would dye,
Macb. And there an end: But now they rise againe
Macb. With twenty mortall murthers on their crownes,
Macb. And push vs from our stooles. This is more strange
Macb. Then such a murther is.
La. La.
La. My worthy Lord
La. Your Noble Friends do lacke you.
Macb. I do forget:
Macb. Do not muse at me my most worthy Friends,
Macb. I haue a strange infirmity, which is nothing
Macb. To those that know me. Come, loue and health to all,
Macb. Then Ile sit downe: Giue me some Wine, fill full:
Macb. Enter Ghost.