5

Romeo

My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

Juliet

Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
[Juliet places the palm of her hand against Romeo’s]
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.

Romeo

Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?                  

Juliet

Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

Romeo

O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

Juliet

Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.

Romeo

Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.
[He kisses her]
Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.

Romeo

What lady is that, which doth enrich the hand               
Of yonder knight?

Servant

I know not, sir.

Romeo

O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!
It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night
As a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear — 
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear.
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.

Macbeth

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle.
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Glamis thou art, and Cawdor, and shalt be
What thou art promised; yet do I fear thy nature –
It is too full o'th milk of human kindness
To catch the nearest way. Thou wouldst be great,
Art not without ambition, but without
The illness should attend it. What thou wouldst highly,
That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false,
And yet wouldst wrongly win. Thou'dst have, great Glamis,
That which cries 'Thus thou must do' if thou have it,
And that which rather thou dost fear to do
Than wishest should be undone. Hie thee hither

Lady Macbeth                                        

Your face, my thane, is as a book where men
May read strange matters. To beguile the time,
Look like the time — bear welcome in your eye,
Your hand, your tongue. Look like the innocent flower,
But be the serpent under't. He that's coming

Gertrude   

How now, Ophelia?

Ophelia

[She sings a love ballad.]
How should I your true love know 
  From another one?
By his cockle hat and staff, 
  And his sandal shoon.

Gertrude

Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?

Claudius    

How do you, pretty lady?

Ophelia

Well God 'ild you. They say the owl was a baker's
daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not
what we may be. God be at your table!    

Claudius    

Conceit upon her father.

Ophelia

Tomorrow is Saint Valentine's day, 
All in the morning betime,
And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine.
Then up he rose, and donned his clothes, 
And dupped the chamber door,
Let in the maid, that out a maid 
Never departed more.    

Claudius    

Pretty Ophelia... 

Messenger

                                 Save yourself, my lord! 
The ocean, overpeering of his list,
Eats not the flats with more impiteous haste
Than young Laertes, in a riotous head,
O'erbears your officers. The rabble call him Lord.
And as the world were now but to begin,
Antiquity forgot, custom not known —
The ratifiers and props of every word.
They cry, "Choose we! Laertes shall be king!"
Caps, hands, and tongues applaud it to the clouds.
"Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!"

Gertrude

How cheerfully on the false trail they cry! 
Oh, this is counter, you false Danish dogs!    

Claudius

                                 What is the cause, Laertes, 
That thy rebellion looks so giant-like? 
Let him go, Gertrude. Do not fear our person.
There's such divinity does hedge a king,
That Treason can but peep to what it wouldwould,
Acts little of his will. Tell me, Laertes,    
Why thou art thus incensed? Let him go, Gertrude.  

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