Macbeth They hailed him father to a line of kings. Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown, And put a barren scepter in my gripe, Thence to be wrenched with an unlineal hand, No son of mine succeeding. If 't be so, Read more about popup_note_index_item 1559
[A street in Mantua. Enter Romeo] Romeo If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep, My dreams presage some joyful news at hand. My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne, And all this day an unaccustomed spirit Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts. Read more about popup_note_index_item 1528
Romeo News from Verona! How now, Balthasar! Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar? How doth my lady? Is my father well? How doth my Juliet? That I ask again, For nothing can be ill if she be well. Balthasar Then she is well, and nothing can be ill. Her body sleeps in Capel's monument, And her immortal part with angels lives. Read more about popup_note_index_item 1529
Romeo Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor. Hold, there is forty ducats. Let me have A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear As will disperse itself through all the veins That the life-weary taker may fall dead, And that the trunk may be discharged of breath As violently as hasty powder fired Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb. Read more about popup_note_index_item 1530
