Was the hope drunk wherein you dress’d yourself by William Shakespeare
As J.K. Rowling has professed her love for Macbeth, and it’s my favorite play, I thought I’d post an excerpt.
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Was the hope drunk wherein you dress’d yourself FROM MACBETH, ACT I, SCENE VII By William Shakespeare Wherein you dress’d yourself? hath it slept since, And wakes it now, to look so green and pale At what it did so freely? From this time Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valour As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem’st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem, Letting ‘I dare not’ wait upon ‘I would,’ Like the poor cat i’ the adage? I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more is none. That made you break this enterprise to me? When you durst do it then you were a man; And, to be more than what you were, you would Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place Did then adhere, and yet you would make both: They have made themselves, and that their fitness now Does unmake you. I have given suck, and know How tender ’tis to love the babe that milks me: I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have pluck’d my nipple from his boneless gums, And dash’d the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this. But screw your courage to the sticking-place, And we’ll not fail. When Duncan is asleep, Whereto the rather shall his day’s hard journey Soundly invite him, his two chamberlains Will I with wine and wassail so convince That memory, the warder of the brain, Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason A limbeck only; when in swinish sleep Their drenched natures lie, as in a death, What cannot you and I perform upon The unguarded Duncan? what not put upon His spongy officers, who shall bear the guilt Of our great quell? For thy undaunted mettle should compose Nothing but males. Will it not be receiv’d, When we have mark’d with blood those sleepy two Of his own chamber and us’d their very daggers, That they have done’t? As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar Upon his death? Each corporal agent to this terrible feat. Away, and mock the time with fairest show: False face must hide what the false heart doth know. |
