Act v. Sc. 3.
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased;
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow;
Raze out the written troubles of the brain;
And, with some sweet oblivious antidote,
Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart?
Act v. Sc, 3.
Throw physic to the dogs: I'll none of it.
Act v. Sc. 3.
I would applaud thee to the very echo,
That should applaud again.
Act v, Sc. 5.
Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
The cry is still, _They come_.
Act v. Sc. 5.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
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.
Act v. Sc. 5.
Blow, wind! come, wrack!
At least we'll die with harness on our back.
Act. v. Sc. 7.
I bear a charmed life.
Act. v. Sc. 7.
That keep the word of promise to our ear,
And break it to our hope.
Act v. Sc. 7.
Lay on, Macduff;
And damned be him that first cries, Hold, enough!
* * * * *
KING JOHN.
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