Macbeth Act 3 Scene 4 (Banquos Ghost)

ROSS Please't your highness

To grace us with your royal company.
MACBETH The table's full.
LENNOX Here is a place reserved, sir.
MACBETH Where?
LENNOX Here, my good lord. What is't that moves your
highness?
MACBETH Which of you have done this?
Lords What, my good lord?
MACBETH Thou canst not say I did it: never shake 50
Thy gory locks at me.
ROSS Gentlemen, rise: his highness is not well.
LADY MACBETH Sit, worthy friends: my lord is often thus,
And hath been from his youth: pray you, keep seat;
The fit is momentary; upon a thought
He will again be well: if much you note him,
You shall offend him and extend his passion:
Feed, and regard him not. Are you a man?
MACBETH Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that
Which might appal the devil.
LADY MACBETH O proper stuff! 60
This is the very painting of your fear:
This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said,
Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws and starts,
Impostors to true fear, would well become
A woman's story at a winter's fire,
Authorized by her grandam. Shame itself!
Why do you make such faces? When all's done,
 You look but on a stool.
MACBETH Prithee, see there! behold! look! lo!
how say you?
Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too. 70
If charnel-houses and our graves must send

Those that we bury back, our monuments

Shall be the maws of kites.

[GHOST OF BANQUO vanishes]
LADY MACBETH What, quite unmann'd in folly?

Hamlet Act 5 Scene 1 (Gravediggers Scene)

HAMLET Let me see.

Takes the skull.
Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow
of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath
borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how
abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge rises at
it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know
not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your
gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment,
that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one
now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen.
Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let
her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must
 come; make her laugh at that. Prithee, Horatio, tell
me one thing.
HORATIO What's that, my lord?
HAMLET Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion i'
the earth?
HORATIO E'en so.
HAMLET And smelt so? pah!
Puts down the skull.
HORATIO E'en so, my lord.
HAMLET To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Why may
not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander,
till he find it stopping a bung-hole? 191
HORATIO 'Twere to consider too curiously, to consider so.
HAMLET No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither with
modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it: as
thus: Alexander died, Alexander was buried,
Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is earth; of
earth we make loam; and why of that loam, whereto he
was converted, might they not stop a beer-barrel?
Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.
O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,
Should patch a wall to expel the winter flaw!

Romeo and Juliet Act 5 Scene 1 (Meeting Scene)

ROMEO O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!

 It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night
Like 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.
The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,
And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

[]
ROMEO [To JULIET] If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
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;
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. 100
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.
Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.
JULIET Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
ROMEO Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!
Give me my sin again.
JULIET You kiss by the book.