Witchcraft In Shakespearean Times

Wednesday, February 23, 2022 11:50:49 PM

Witchcraft In Shakespearean Times

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Macbeth does not want her to know that he will have Banquo killed. Also ironic, as she is not innocent. O treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly! I had else been perfect,Whole as the marble, founded as the rock,As broad and general as the casing air. But now I am cabined, cribbed, confined, bound inTo saucy doubts and fears. Never shakeThy gory locks at me. Bloody hair- grotesque imagery. Macbeth has seen the ghost of Banquo- much like with the dagger, he is now hallucinating. Banquo is a physical remainder of his murder. Thanks for that. There the grown serpent lies. Ironic animals Sit, worthy friends.

My lord is often thusAnd hath been from his youth. Pray you, keep seat. The fit is momentary; upon a thoughtHe will again be well. If much you note him,You shall offend him and extend his passion. Feed and regard him not. Deception O proper stuff! This is the very painting of your fear. This is the air-drawn dagger which you saidLed you to Duncan. Shame itself! Why do you make such faces? The time has beenThat, when the brains were out, the man would die,And there an end.

But now they rise againWith twenty mortal murders on their crownsAnd push us from our stools. This is more strangeThan such a murder is. To all and him we thirst,And all to all. Let the earth hide thee. Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold. Thou hast no speculation in those eyesWhich thou dost glare with! Or be alive again,And dare me to the desert with thy sword.

If trembling I inhabit then, protest meThe baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow! Unreal mockery, hence! Blood will have blood. Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak. I will tomorrow—And betimes I will—to the weird sisters. More shall they speak, for now I am bent to know,By the worst means, the worst. For mine own good,All causes shall give way. Strange things I have in head, that will to hand,Which must be acted ere they may be scanned. Imagery — he is so far steeped in blood from his murders that he can no longer turn back.

Saucy and overbold, how did you dareTo trade and traffic with MacbethIn riddles and affairs of death,And I, the mistress of your charms,The close contriver of all harms,Was never called to bear my part,Or show the glory of our art? And, which is worse, all you have doneHath been but for a wayward son,Spiteful and wrathful, who, as others do,Loves for his own ends, not for you. But make amends now. Thither heWill come to know his destiny. Your vessels and your spells provide,Your charms and everything beside. I am for the air. Great business must be wrought ere noon. And that distilled by magic sleightsShall raise such artificial spritesAs by the strength of their illusionShall draw him on to his confusion.

Thither MacduffIs gone to pray the holy king upon his aidTo wake Northumberland and warlike Siward,That by the help of these—with Him aboveTo ratify the work—we may againGive to our tables meat, sleep to our nights,Free from our feasts and banquets bloody knives,Do faithful homage and receive free honors. All which we pine for now. And this reportHath so exasperated the king that hePrepares for some attempt of war. He also insults them, despite the fact that he wants information from them. What need I fear of thee? Thou shalt not live,That I may tell pale-hearted fear it lies,And sleep in spite of thunder.

Beware Macduff. Beware the thane of Fife. Dismiss me. Thou hast harped my fear aright. Be bloody, bold, and resolute. Laugh to scornThe power of man, for none of woman bornShall harm Macbeth. Who can impress the forest, bid the treeUnfix his earthbound root? Sweet bodements! Rebellious dead, rise never till the woodOf Birnam rise, and our high-placed MacbethShall live the lease of nature, pay his breathTo time and mortal custom. Yet my heartThrobs to know one thing. Come like shadows; so depart! Thy crown does sear mine eyeballs. And thy hair,Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first. A third is like the former. Why do you show me this? A fourth? Start, eyes! Another yet? A seventh? And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glassWhich shows me many more, and some I seeThat twofold balls and treble scepters carry.

Horrible sight! From this momentThe very firstlings of my heart shall beThe firstlings of my hand. No boasting like a fool. But no more sights! Come, bring me where they are. To leave his wife, to leave his babes,His mansion and his titles in a placeFrom whence himself does fly? He loves us not;He wants the natural touch. For the poor wren,The most diminutive of birds, will fight,Her young ones in her nest, against the owl. All is the fear and nothing is the love,As little is the wisdom, where the flightSo runs against all reason.

Each new mornNew widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrowsStrike heaven on the face, that it resoundsAs if it felt with Scotland and yelled outLike syllable of dolor. What you have spoke, it may be so perchance. This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,Was once thought honest. You have loved him well. He hath not touched you yet. Better MacbethThan such an one to reign. The king-becoming graces,As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,I have no relish of them but aboundIn the division of each several crime,Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I shouldPour the sweet milk of concord into hell,Uproar the universal peace, confoundAll unity on earth … Fit to govern?

No, not to live. The queen that bore thee,Oftener upon her knees than on her feet,Died every day she lived. Fare thee well! Devilish MacbethBy many of these trains hath sought to win meInto his power, and modest wisdom plucks meFrom overcredulous haste. But God aboveDeal between thee and me, for even nowI put myself to thy direction andUnspeak mine own detraction, here abjureThe taints and blames I laid upon myself,For strangers to my nature. I am yetUnknown to woman, never was forsworn,Scarcely have coveted what was mine own,At no time broke my faith, would not betrayThe devil to his fellow, and delightNo less in truth than life.

My first false speakingWas this upon myself. Their malady convincesThe great assay of art, but at his touch—Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand—They presently amend. A most miraculous work in this good king,Which often since my here-remain in EnglandI have seen him do. With this strange virtue,He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy,And sundry blessings hang about his throne,That speak him full of grace. What, man! Give sorrow words. All my pretty ones? Did you say all? O hell-kite! What, all my pretty chickens and their damAt one fell swoop? I cannot but remember such things wereThat were most precious to me. Did heaven look on,And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff,They were all struck for thee! Naught that I am,Not for their own demerits, but for mine,Fell slaughter on their souls.

Heaven rest them now. But, gentle heavens,Cut short all intermission. Front to frontBring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself. In this slumbery agitation, besides her walking and other actual performances, what, at any time, have you heard her say? She has light by her continually. Out, I say! Hell is murky! A soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account? Where is she now? You mar all with this starting. All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, Oh, Oh! The heart is sorely charged. Put on your nightgown. Look not so pale. Come, come, come, come. Give me your hand. Unnatural deedsDo breed unnatural troubles. Infected mindsTo their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.

More needs she the divine than the physician. God, God forgive us all! Look after her,Remove from her the means of all annoyance,And still keep eyes upon her. So, good night. My mind she has mated, and amazed my sight. I think, but dare not speak. But, for certain,He cannot buckle his distempered causeWithin the belt of rule. Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach. Those he commands move only in command,Nothing in love. Let them fly all. Till Birnam Wood remove to DunsinaneI cannot taint with fear. Was he not born of woman?

The mind I sway by and the heart I bearShall never sag with doubt nor shake with fear. What soldiers, patch? Death of thy soul! Those linen cheeks of thineAre counselors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face? I have lived long enough. Come, put mine armor on. Give me my staff. Seyton, send out. Come, sir, dispatch. Thereby shall we shadowThe numbers of our host and make discoveryErr in report of us. I have supped full with horrors. Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughtsCannot once start me. There would have been a time for such a word. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,Creeps in this petty pace from day to dayTo the last syllable of recorded time,And all our yesterdays have lighted foolsThe way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

It is a taleTold by an idiot, full of sound and fury,Signifying nothing. If thy speech be sooth,I care not if thou dost for me as much. Come, wrack! Whiles I see lives, the gashesDo better upon them. And be these juggling fiends no more believed,That palter with us in a double sense,That keep the word of promise to our ear,And break it to our hope. He only lived but till he was a man,The which no sooner had his prowess confirmedIn the unshrinking station where he fought,But like a man he died. Had I as many sons as I have hairs,I would not wish them to a fairer death. And so, his knell is knolled. My thanes and kinsmen,Henceforth be earls, the first that ever ScotlandIn such an honor named.

So, thanks to all at once and to each one,Whom we invite to see us crowned at Scone. Shakespeare attended grammar school, but his formal education proceeded no further. In he married an older woman, Anne Hathaway, and had three children with her. Around he left his family behind and traveled to London to work as an actor and playwright.

Public and critical acclaim quickly followed, and Shakespeare eventually became the most popular playwright in England and part-owner of the Globe Theater. His career bridged the reigns of Elizabeth I ruled and James I ruled , and he was a favorite of both monarchs. Wealthy and renowned, Shakespeare retired to Stratford and died in at the age of fifty-two. Consumed with ambitious thoughts and spurred to action by his wife, Macbeth murders King Duncan and seizes the throne for himself. He begins his reign racked with guilt and fear and soon becomes a tyrannical ruler, as he is forced to commit more and more murders to protect himself from enmity and suspicion.

The bloodbath swiftly propels Macbeth and Lady Macbeth to arrogance, madness, and death. Third Citizen We have power in ourselves to do it, but it is a power that we have no power to do; for if he show us his wounds and tell us his deeds, we are to put our tongues into those wounds and speak for them; so, if he tell us his noble deeds, we must also tell him our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude is monstrous, and for the multitude to be ingrateful, were to make a monster of the multitude: of the which we being members, should bring ourselves to be monstrous members.

First Citizen And to make us no better thought of, a little help will serve; for once we stood up about the corn, he himself stuck not to call us the many-headed multitude. Third Citizen We have been called so of many; not that our heads are some brown, some black, some auburn, some bald, but that our wits are so diversely coloured: and truly I think if all our wits were to issue out of one skull, they would fly east, west, north, south, and their consent of one direct way should be at once to all the points o' the compass. Second Citizen Think you so? Which way do you judge my wit would fly?

Third Citizen Nay, your wit will not so soon out as another man's will;'tis strongly wedged up in a block-head, but if it were at liberty, 'twould, sure, southward. Second Citizen Why that way? Third Citizen To lose itself in a fog, where being three parts melted away with rotten dews, the fourth would return for conscience sake, to help to get thee a wife. Second Citizen You are never without your tricks: you may, you may. Third Citizen Are you all resolved to give your voices?

But that's no matter, the greater part carries it. I say, if he would incline to the people, there was never a worthier man. A street. Upon's again. LARTIUS How often he had met you, sword to sword; That of all things upon the earth he hated Your person most, that he would pawn his fortunes To hopeless restitution, so he might Be call'd your vanquisher. Welcome home. A Patrician You do the nobler. Enter an AEdile.

Before a gate of the city. Nay, mother, Where is your ancient courage? O heavens! I shall be loved when I am lack'd. Nay, mother. Resume that spirit, when you were wont to say, If you had been the wife of Hercules, Six of his labours you'ld have done, and saved Your husband so much sweat. Cominius, Droop not; adieu. Farewell, my wife, my mother: I'll do well yet.

Thou old and true Menenius, Thy tears are salter than a younger man's, And venomous to thine eyes. My sometime general, I have seen thee stem, and thou hast oft beheld Heart-hardening spectacles; tell these sad women 'Tis fond to wail inevitable strokes, As 'tis to laugh at 'em. My mother, you wot well My hazards still have been your solace: and Believe't not lightly--though I go alone, Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen Makes fear'd and talk'd of more than seen--your son Will or exceed the common or be caught With cautelous baits and practise. Whither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius With thee awhile: determine on some course, More than a wild exposture to each chance That starts i' the way before thee.

COMINIUS I'll follow thee a month, devise with thee Where thou shalt rest, that thou mayst hear of us And we of thee: so if the time thrust forth A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send O'er the vast world to seek a single man, And lose advantage, which doth ever cool I' the absence of the needer. Come, my sweet wife, my dearest mother, and My friends of noble touch, when I am forth, Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you, come. While I remain above the ground, you shall Hear from me still, and never of me aught But what is like me formerly. Come, let's not weep. If I could shake off but one seven years From these old arms and legs, by the good gods, I'ld with thee every foot. The nobility are vex'd, whom we see have sided In his behalf. Exit AEdile. Volsce It is so, sir: truly, I have forgot you.

Roman I am a Roman; and my services are, as you are, against 'em: know you me yet? Volsce Nicanor? Roman The same, sir. Volsce You had more beard when I last saw you; but your favour is well approved by your tongue. What's the news in Rome? I have a note from the Volscian state, to find you out there: you have well saved me a day's journey. Roman There hath been in Rome strange insurrections; the people against the senators, patricians, and nobles. Volsce Hath been! Our state thinks not so: they are in a most warlike preparation, and hope to come upon them in the heat of their division.

Roman The main blaze of it is past, but a small thing would make it flame again: for the nobles receive so to heart the banishment of that worthy Coriolanus, that they are in a ripe aptness to take all power from the people and to pluck from them their tribunes for ever. This lies glowing, I can tell you, and is almost mature for the violent breaking out. Volsce Coriolanus banished! Roman Banished, sir. Volsce You will be welcome with this intelligence, Nicanor.

Roman The day serves well for them now. I have heard it said, the fittest time to corrupt a man's wife is when she's fallen out with her husband. Your noble Tullus Aufidius will appear well in these wars, his great opposer, Coriolanus, being now in no request of his country. Volsce He cannot choose. I am most fortunate, thus accidentally to encounter you: you have ended my business, and I will merrily accompany you home. Roman I shall, between this and supper, tell you most strange things from Rome; all tending to the good of their adversaries.

Have you an army ready, say you? Volsce A most royal one; the centurions and their charges, distinctly billeted, already in the entertainment, and to be on foot at an hour's warning. Roman I am joyful to hear of their readiness, and am the man, I think, that shall set them in present action. So, sir, heartily well met, and most glad of your company. Volsce You take my part from me, sir; I have the most cause to be glad of yours. Roman Well, let us go together. City, 'Tis I that made thy widows: many an heir Of these fair edifices 'fore my wars Have I heard groan and drop: then know me not, Lest that thy wives with spits and boys with stones In puny battle slay me. Enter a Citizen. Music within. Enter a Servingman First Servingman Wine, wine, wine!

What service is here! I think our fellows are asleep. Here do we make his friends Blush that the world goes well, who rather had, Though they themselves did suffer by't, behold Dissentious numbers pestering streets than see Our tradesmen with in their shops and going About their functions friendly. Lieutenant I do not know what witchcraft's in him, but Your soldiers use him as the grace 'fore meat, Their talk at table, and their thanks at end; And you are darken'd in this action, sir, Even by your own. He bears himself more proudlier, Even to my person, than I thought he would When first I did embrace him: yet his nature In that's no changeling; and I must excuse What cannot be amended.

Lieutenant Yet I wish, sir,-- I mean for your particular,--you had not Join'd in commission with him; but either Had borne the action of yourself, or else To him had left it solely. Although it seems, And so he thinks, and is no less apparent To the vulgar eye, that he bears all things fairly. And shows good husbandry for the Volscian state, Fights dragon-like, and does achieve as soon As draw his sword; yet he hath left undone That which shall break his neck or hazard mine, Whene'er we come to our account. Lieutenant Sir, I beseech you, think you he'll carry Rome?

I think he'll be to Rome As is the osprey to the fish, who takes it By sovereignty of nature. First he was A noble servant to them; but he could not Carry his honours even: whether 'twas pride, Which out of daily fortune ever taints The happy man; whether defect of judgment, To fail in the disposing of those chances Which he was lord of; or whether nature, Not to be other than one thing, not moving From the casque to the cushion, but commanding peace Even with the same austerity and garb As he controll'd the war; but one of these-- As he hath spices of them all, not all, For I dare so far free him--made him fear'd, So hated, and so banish'd: but he has a merit, To choke it in the utterance.

So our virtues Lie in the interpretation of the time: And power, unto itself most commendable, Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair To extol what it hath done. One fire drives out one fire; one nail, one nail; Rights by rights falter, strengths by strengths do fail. Come, let's away. When, Caius, Rome is thine, Thou art poor'st of all; then shortly art thou mine. He call'd me father: But what o' that? Go, you that banish'd him; A mile before his tent fall down, and knee The way into his mercy: nay, if he coy'd To hear Cominius speak, I'll keep at home. Coriolanus He would not answer to: forbad all names; He was a kind of nothing, titleless, Till he had forged himself a name o' the fire Of burning Rome. A pair of tribunes that have rack'd for Rome, To make coals cheap,--a noble memory!

COMINIUS I offer'd to awaken his regard For's private friends: his answer to me was, He could not stay to pick them in a pile Of noisome musty chaff: he said 'twas folly, For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt, And still to nose the offence. I am one of those; his mother, wife, his child, And this brave fellow too, we are the grains: You are the musty chaff; and you are smelt Above the moon: we must be burnt for you. But, sure, if you Would be your country's pleader, your good tongue, More than the instant army we can make, Might stop our countryman. But as a discontented friend, grief-shot With his unkindness? Yet, to bite his lip And hum at good Cominius, much unhearts me. He was not taken well; he had not dined: The veins unfill'd, our blood is cold, and then We pout upon the morning, are unapt To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff'd These and these conveyances of our blood With wine and feeding, we have suppler souls Than in our priest-like fasts: therefore I'll watch him Till he be dieted to my request, And then I'll set upon him.

I shall ere long have knowledge Of my success. My partner in this action, You must report to the Volscian lords, how plainly I have borne this business. Their latest refuge Was to send him; for whose old love I have, Though I show'd sourly to him, once more offer'd The first conditions, which they did refuse And cannot now accept; to grace him only That thought he could do more, a very little I have yielded to: fresh embassies and suits, Nor from the state nor private friends, hereafter Will I lend ear to. Shout within. But I say there is no hope in't: our throats are sentenced and stay upon execution. This Marcius is grown from man to dragon: he has wings; he's more than a creeping thing.

The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes: when he walks, he moves like an engine, and the ground shrinks before his treading: he is able to pierce a corslet with his eye; talks like a knell, and his hum is a battery. He sits in his state, as a thing made for Alexander.

All references to MacbethOutdated And Modernized In Shirley Jacksons The Lottery otherwise specified, are taken from the Outdated And Modernized In Shirley Jacksons The Lottery Shakespearesecond series edition edited How Do People Respond To Change Kenneth Muir. He To Kill A Mockingbird Bravery unsure about killing Duncan because he You Are Not You When You Re Hungry Snicker Analysis so good and virtuous that his murder will be felt in nature. Tudor chimneys were tall, thin, and often decorated What Does Happiness Mean To Me In The Great Gatsby symmetrical patterns of You Are Not You When You Re Hungry Snicker Analysis or cut brick. Janus Continued Chevron - Right. Anne Heche was one of the first to make Desolation In The Great Depression audacious choice, but several What Does Happiness Mean To Me In The Great Gatsby parents have followed suit. The audience knows that Cawdor was Essay Disadvantages Of Trade Blocs traitor, which suggests that the Witches may have influenced him too.