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Lady Macbeth

A Tragedy
  
  
  

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SCENE IV.
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SCENE IV.

MACBETH.
Why should I, thus, be still the toy of fortune,
While my own hand contains the means of riddance?
This is the key that may unlock the door,
And show me all the secret things of fate.
But wherefore is it, that I dread its use?
I, who so oft in pride of youthful blood,
Have all the tumults of the battle dared,
As 'twere, to force, outrageously, to enter
The undiscover'd labyrinth of death,
Though then I knew not this pursuing fear;
Nor had incited, thus to hunt me down,
The hungry vengeance of vindictive men.
Oh! while so chased, am I afraid to fly,
Since tarrying here, ensures a certain woe;
And using this, will bear me safe away.
To be imprison'd in this mortal cell,
And know the boundless liberty without!
To be so manacled, and yet to shrink

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From the short tingle of the setting free!
Oh! to what cowardice the dross of flesh
Degrades the noble element of man.
Seaton, without; who waits, Seaton, I say?