Macbeth’s speeches and analyses.
Macbeth
Hang out our banners on the outward walls (Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow)…
Source
Arden | Brokaw, Catherine Steele. London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2019
Enter, with drum and colours, MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers.
MACBETH
Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
The cry is still, “They come!” Our castle’s strength
Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie,
Till famine and the ague eat them up.
Were they not forc’d with those that should be ours,
We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
And beat them backward home.
A cry, within, of women.
What is that noise?
SEYTON
It is the cry of women, my good lord.
Exit
MACBETH
I have almost forgot the taste of fears.
The time has been, my senses would have cool’d
To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair
Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir,
As life were in’t. I have supp’d full with horrors:
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts,
Cannot once start me.
Re-enter SEYTON
Wherefore was that cry?
SEYTON
The queen, my lord, is dead.
MACBETH
She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.–
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.
Enter a Messenger
Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.
Thought Counts
Arden | 2019
Thoughts |TBD
Short: 6
Medium: 4
Long: 2
Total: 12
End-stopped: 5
Mid-line: 7
Periods: 8
Exclamations: 2
Questions: 2
Unfinished: (1)
Helena needs the audience to
Source
Arden Performance | Brokaw, Catherine Steele. London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2019
Enter, with drum and colours, MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers.
MACBETH
Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
The cry is still, “They come!” Our castle’s strength
Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie,
Till famine and the ague eat them up.
Were they not forc’d with those that should be ours,
We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
And beat them backward home.
A cry, within, of women.
What is that noise?
SEYTON
It is the cry of women, my good lord.
Exit
MACBETH
I have almost forgot the taste of fears.
The time has been, my senses would have cool’d
To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair
Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir,
As life were in’t. I have supp’d full with horrors:
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts,
Cannot once start me.
Re-enter SEYTON
Wherefore was that cry?
SEYTON
The queen, my lord, is dead.
MACBETH
She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.–
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.
Enter a Messenger
Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.
Thought Counts
Arden Performance | 2019
Thoughts |TBD
Short: 6
Medium: 4
Long: 2
Total: 12
End-stopped: 5
Mid-line: 7
Periods: 8
Exclamations: 2
Questions: 2
Unfinished: 0
Helena needs the audience to
Thoughts
Arden Performance | 2019
Enter, with drum and colours, MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers.
MACBETH
1. Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
The cry is still, “They come!” 2. Our castle’s strength
Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie,
Till famine and the ague eat them up.
3. Were they not forc’d with those that should be ours,
We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
And beat them backward home.
A cry, within, of women.
4. What is that noise?
SEYTON
It is the cry of women, my good lord.
Exit
MACBETH
5. I have almost forgot the taste of fears.
6. The time has been, my senses would have cool’d
To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair
Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir,
As life were in’t. 7. I have supp’d full with horrors:
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts,
Cannot once start me.
Re-enter SEYTON
8. Wherefore was that cry?
SEYTON
The queen, my lord, is dead.
MACBETH
9. She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.–
10. 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. 11. Out, out, brief candle!
12. 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.
Enter a Messenger
Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.
Line Analysis
Arden Performance | 2019
Enter, with drum and colours, MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers.
MACBETH
Hang out our banners on the outward walls; 10 | 10R
The cry is still, “They come!” Our castle’s strength 10R
Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie, 10 slowly
Till famine and the ague eat them up. 10R
Were they not forc’d with those that should be ours, 10R slowly
We might have met them dareful, beard to beard, 10R
And beat them backward home.
A cry, within, of women.
What is that noise? 10
SEYTON
It is the cry of women, my good lord.
Exit
MACBETH
I have almost forgot the taste of fears. 10 | 10R
The time has been, my senses would have cool’d 10R
To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair 10 | 10R slowly
Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir, 10 | 10R
As life were in’t. I have supp’d full with horrors: 11w
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, 10 | 11
Cannot once start me.
Re-enter SEYTON
Wherefore was that cry? 10 | 10R
SEYTON
The queen, my lord, is dead.
MACBETH
She should have died hereafter; 7w
There would have been a time for such a word.– 10R | 10
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, 11w
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, 10R | 10
To the last syllable of recorded time; 10
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools 10R
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! 11w
Life‘s but a walking shadow; a poor player, 11w
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, 10R slowly
And then is heard no more: it is a tale 10 | 10R slowly
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, 11w | 12w
Signifying nothing. 6w
Enter a Messenger
Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.
Pacing and Tempo
Arden Performance | 2019
Enter, with drum and colours, MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers.
MACBETH
Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
The cry is still, ^ “They come!”^^ Our castle’s strength
Will laugh a siege to scorn: ^ here let them lie, slowly (mono)
Till famine ^ and the ague eat them up. pause
Were they not forc’d with those that should be ours, slowly (mono)
We might have met them dareful, ^ beard to beard,
And beat them ^ backward home. ^^
A cry, within, of women.
What is that noise?
SEYTON
It is the cry of women, my good lord.
Exit
MACBETH
I have almost forgot ^ the taste of fears. pause
The time has been, ^ my senses would have cool’d
To hear a night-shriek; ^ and my fell of hair
Would ^ at a dismal treatise rouse, ^ and stir,
As life were in’t. ^^ I have supp’d full ^ with horrors:
Direness, ^ familiar to my slaughterous thoughts,
Cannot once start me. ^^
Re-enter SEYTON
Wherefore was that cry?
SEYTON
The queen, my lord, is dead.
MACBETH
She should have died hereafter; PAUSE
There would have been a time for such a word.– pause, slowly (mono)
To-morrow, ^ and to-morrow, ^ and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace ^ from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time; slowly (htsf)
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools –>
The way to dusty death. ^^ Out, ^ out, ^ brief candle! pause
Life’s but a walking shadow; ^ a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, slowly (mono)
And then is heard no more: ^ it is a tale
Told by an idiot, ^ full of sound ^ and fury,
Signifying nothing. PAUSE
Enter a Messenger
Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.
Alliteration
Arden Performance | 2019
Enter, with drum and colours, MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers.
MACBETH
Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
The cry is still, “They come!” Our castle’s strength
Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie,
Till famine and the ague eat them up.
Were they not forc’d with those that should be ours,
We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
And beat them backward home.
A cry, within, of women.
What is that noise?
SEYTON
It is the cry of women, my good lord.
Exit
MACBETH
I have almost forgot the taste of fears.
The time has been, my senses would have cool’d
To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair
Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir,
As life were in’t. I have supp’d full with horrors:
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts,
Cannot once start me.
Re-enter SEYTON
Wherefore was that cry?
SEYTON
The queen, my lord, is dead.
MACBETH
She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.–
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.
Enter a Messenger
Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.
Assonance & Rhyme
Arden Performance | 2019
Enter, with drum and colours, MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers.
MACBETH
Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
The cry is still, “They come!” Our castle’s strength
Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie,
Till famine and the ague eat them up.
Were they not forc’d with those that should be ours,
We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
And beat them backward home.
A cry, within, of women.
What is that noise?
SEYTON
It is the cry of women, my good lord.
Exit
MACBETH
I have almost forgot the taste of fears.
The time has been, my senses would have cool’d
To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair
Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir,
As life were in’t. I have supp’d full with horrors:
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts,
Cannot once start me.
Re-enter SEYTON
Wherefore was that cry?
SEYTON
The queen, my lord, is dead.
MACBETH
She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.–
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.
Enter a Messenger
Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.
Consonance & Onomoatopoeia
Arden Performance | 2019
Enter, with drum and colours, MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers.
MACBETH
Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
The cry is still, “They come!” Our castle’s strength
Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie,
Till famine and the ague eat them up.
Were they not forc’d with those that should be ours,
We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
And beat them backward home.
A cry, within, of women.
What is that noise?
SEYTON
It is the cry of women, my good lord.
Exit
MACBETH
I have almost forgot the taste of fears.
The time has been, my senses would have cool’d
To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair
Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir,
As life were in’t. I have supp’d full with horrors:
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts,
Cannot once start me.
Re-enter SEYTON
Wherefore was that cry?
SEYTON
The queen, my lord, is dead.
MACBETH
She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.–
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.
Enter a Messenger
Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.
Rhetoric
Arden | 1979
Enter, with drum and colours, MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers.
MACBETH
Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
The cry is still, “They come!” Our castle’s strength personification of “strength”, laughter imagery
Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie,
Till famine and the ague eat them up. personification of famine and ague, eating imagery
Were they not forc’d with those that should be ours,
We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
And beat them backward home.
A cry, within, of women.
What is that noise?
SEYTON
It is the cry of women, my good lord.
Exit
MACBETH
I have almost forgot the taste of fears. imagery, metaphor – taste
The time has been, my senses would have cool’d
To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair
Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir, imagery – hair
As life were in’t. I have supp’d full with horrors: metaphor – horrors as food – eating metaphor
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts,
Cannot once start me.
Re-enter SEYTON
Wherefore was that cry?
SEYTON
The queen, my lord, is dead.
MACBETH
She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.–
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.
Enter a Messenger
Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.
Before and After
Arden | 1979
Enter, with drum and colours, MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers.
MACBETH
Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
The cry is still, “They come!” Our castle’s strength
Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie,
Till famine and the ague eat them up.
Were they not forc’d with those that should be ours,
We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
And beat them backward home.
A cry, within, of women.
What is that noise?
SEYTON
It is the cry of women, my good lord.
Exit
MACBETH
I have almost forgot the taste of fears.
The time has been, my senses would have cool’d
To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair
Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir,
As life were in’t. I have supp’d full with horrors:
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts,
Cannot once start me.
Re-enter SEYTON
Wherefore was that cry?
SEYTON
The queen, my lord, is dead.
MACBETH
She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.–
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.
Enter a Messenger
Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.
Definitions
Arden | 1979
Enter, with drum and colours, MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers.
MACBETH
Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
The cry is still, “They come!” Our castle’s strength
Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie,
Till famine and the ague eat them up.
Were they not forc’d with those that should be ours,
We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
And beat them backward home.
A cry, within, of women.
What is that noise?
SEYTON
It is the cry of women, my good lord.
Exit
MACBETH
I have almost forgot the taste of fears.
The time has been, my senses would have cool’d
To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair
Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir,
As life were in’t. I have supp’d full with horrors:
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts,
Cannot once start me.
Re-enter SEYTON
Wherefore was that cry?
SEYTON
The queen, my lord, is dead.
MACBETH
She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.–
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.
Enter a Messenger
Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.
Translation
Arden | 1979
Enter, with drum and colours, MACBETH, SEYTON, and Soldiers.
MACBETH
Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
The cry is still, “They come!” Our castle’s strength
Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie,
Till famine and the ague eat them up.
Were they not forc’d with those that should be ours,
We might have met them dareful, beard to beard,
And beat them backward home.
A cry, within, of women.
What is that noise?
SEYTON
It is the cry of women, my good lord.
Exit
MACBETH
I have almost forgot the taste of fears.
The time has been, my senses would have cool’d
To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair
Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir,
As life were in’t. I have supp’d full with horrors:
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts,
Cannot once start me.
Re-enter SEYTON
Wherefore was that cry?
SEYTON
The queen, my lord, is dead.
MACBETH
She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.–
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.
Enter a Messenger
Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.
Lo, she is one of this confederacy!
Source
Oxford | Roma Gill. London: Oxford University Press, 2001
HELENA
Lo, she is one of this confederacy!
Now I perceive they have conjoin’d all three
To fashion this false sport in spite of me.
Injurious Hermia, most ungrateful maid,
Have you conspir’d, have you with these contriv’d
To bait me with this foul derision?
Is all the counsel that we two have shar’d,
The sister’s vows, the hours that we have spent
When we have chid the hasty-footed time
For parting us–O, is all forgot?
All school-days’ friendship, childhood innocence?
We, Hermia, like two artificial gods
Have with our needles created both one flower,
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,
Both warbling of one song, both in one key,
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds
Had been incorporate. So we grow together
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
But yet an union in partitiön;
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem;
So with two seeming bodies but one heart,
Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,
Due but to one and crownèd with one crest.
And will you rent our ancient love asunder,
To join with men in scorning your poor friend?
It is not friendly, ’tis not maidenly.
Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it,
Though I alone do feel the injury.
Thought Counts
Oxford | 2001
Thoughts |TBD
Short: 4
Medium: 5
Long: 2
Total: 11
End-stopped: 9
Mid-line: 2
Periods: 5
Exclamations: 1
Questions: 4
Unfinished: 1
Helena needs the audience:
to show sympathy for her.
Helena needs Hermia:
to demonstrate satisfactory acknowledgement of her hurt
Thoughts
Oxford | 2001
HELENA
1. Lo, she is one of this confederacy!
2. Now I perceive they have conjoin’d all three
To fashion this false sport in spite of me.
3. Injurious Hermia, most ungrateful maid,
Have you conspir’d, have you with these contriv’d
To bait me with this foul derision?
4. Is all the counsel that we two have shar’d,
The sister’s vows, the hours that we have spent
When we have chid the hasty-footed time
For parting us– 5. O, is all forgot?
6. All school-days’ friendship, childhood innocence?
7. We, Hermia, like two artificial gods
Have with our needles created both one flower,
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,
Both warbling of one song, both in one key,
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds
Had been incorporate. 8. So we grow together
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
But yet an union in partition;
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem;
So with two seeming bodies but one heart,
Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,
Due but to one and crowned with one crest.
9. And will you rent our ancient love asunder,
To join with men in scorning your poor friend?
10. It is not friendly, ’tis not maidenly.
11. Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it,
Though I alone do feel the injury.
Line Analysis
Oxford | 2001
HELENA
Lo, she is one of this confederacy! 10 | 11
Now I perceive they have conjoin’d all three 10
To fashion this false sport in spite of me. 10R
Injurious Hermia, most ungrateful maid, 10R | 11 | 12
Have you conspir’d, have you with these contriv’d 10R | 10
To bait me with this foul derisiön? 10R
Is all the counsel that we two have shar’d, 10R
The sister’s vows, the hours that we have spent 10R
When we have chid the hasty-footed time 10R
For parting us–O, is all forgot? 9
All school-days’ friendship, childhood innocence? 10R | 10
We, Hermia, like two artificial gods 10 | 11 stretch
Have with our needles created both one flower, 11w | 12w
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, 11w
Both warbling of one song, both in one key, 10R | 10
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds 10
Had been incorporate. So we grew together 11w | 12
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, 11w
But yet an union in partitiön; 10R | 10
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem; 10R | 10
So with two seeming bodies but one heart, 10
Two of the first, like coats in heraldry, 10
Due but to one and crownèd with one crest. 10R | 10
And will you rent our ancient love asunder, 11w
To join with men in scorning your poor friend? 10R | 10
It is not friendly, ’tis not maidenly. 10R
Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it, 11w
Though I alone do feel the injury. 10R
Phrasing and Tempo
Oxford | 2001
HELENA
Lo, <c> she is one of this confederacy! pause
Now I perceive <c> they have conjoin’d<c> all three
To fashion this false sport in spite of me. pause slowly
Injurious Hermia,<c> most ungrateful maid,
Have you conspir’d,<c> have you with these contriv’d carefully
To bait me with this foul derision? pause carefully
Is all the counsel that we two have shar’d,
The sister’s vows,<c> the hours that we have spent slowly?
When we have chid the hasty-footed time
For parting us–<c> <pause> O, is all forgot? pause
All school-days’ friendship,<c> childhood innocence? pause
We,<c> Hermia, <c> like two artificial gods
Have with our needles <c> created both one flower,
Both on one sampler, <c> sitting on one cushion,
Both warbling of one song,<c> both in one key, slowly?
As if our hands,<c> our sides,<c> voices,<c> and minds slowly?
Had been incorporate.<c><quickly> So we grew together carefully
Like to a double cherry,<c> seeming parted,
But yet an union in partitiön; slowly
Two lovely berries <c> moulded on one stem;
So with two seeming bodies <c> but one heart,
Two of the first,<c> like coats in heraldry, carefully
Due but to one <c> and crownèd with one crest. pause carefully
And will you rent our ancient love asunder,
To join with men in scorning your poor friend? pause
It is not friendly, <c> ’tis not maidenly. pause
Our sex, <c> as well as I,<c> may chide you for it, slow
Though I alone do feel the injury.
Repeated Sounds
Oxford | 2001
HELENA
Lo, shee is one of this confederacee!
Now I perseeve they have conjoh-een’d all three
To fashion this false sport in spite of mee.
Injeree-us Hermee-ah, most ungreh-eeteful meh-eed,
Have you conspah-eer’d, have you with these contrah–eev’d
To beh-eet mee with this foul derision?
Is all the counsel that oow-ee two have shar’d,
The sister’s vows, the howrs that oow-ee have spent
When we have chid the hasty-footed time
For parting us–O, is it all forgot?
All school-days’ friendship, childhood innocence?
We, Hermia, like two artificial gods
Have with our needles cree-eh-eeted both one flower,
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,
Both warbling of one song, both in one key,
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds
Had been incorporate. So we grow together
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
But yet an union in partition;
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem;
So with two seeming bodies but one heart,
Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,
Due but to one and crowned with one crest.
And will you rent our ancient love asunder,
To join with men in scorning your poor friend?
It is not friendly, ’tis not maidenly.
Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it,
Though I alone do feel the injury.
Rhetoric
Oxford | 2001
HELENA
Lo, she is one of this confederacy!
Now I perceive they have conjoin’d all three
To fashion this false sport in spite of me.
Injurious Hermia, most ungrateful maid,
Have you conspir’d, have you with these contriv’d
To bait me with this foul derision? (imagery, implied metaphor)
Is all the counsel that we two have shar’d,
The sister’s vows, the hours that we have spent
When we have chid the hasty-footed time (imagery, list)
For parting us–O, is all forgot?
All school-days’ friendship, childhood innocence? (imagery)
We, Hermia, like two artificial gods (simile, imagery)
Have with our needles created both one flower, (paradox, antithesis)
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, (imagery)
Both warbling of one song, both in one key, (imagery)
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds (simile, comparison, paradox, repetition)
Had been incorporate. So we grew together
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, (simile, imagery)
But yet an union in partitiön; (paradox)
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem; (metaphor, imagery, repetition)
So with two seeming bodies but one heart, (paradox)
Two of the first, like coats in heraldry, (metaphor, simile, comparison, imagery)
Due but to one and crownèd with one crest.
And will you rent our ancient love asunder, (imagery, anthesis)
To join with men in scorning your poor friend? (antithesis)
It is not friendly, ’tis not maidenly.
Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it, (hyperbole, imagery, personification, antithesis)
Though I alone do feel the injury.
Before and After
Oxford | 2001
LYSANDER
Why should you think that I should woo in scorn?
Scorn and derision never come in tears:
Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born,
In their nativity all truth appears.
How can these things in me seem scorn to you,
Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?
HELENA
You do advance your cunning more and more.
When truth kills truth, O devilish-holy fray!
These vows are Hermia’s: will you give her o’er?
Weigh oath with oath, and you will nothing weigh:
Your vows to her and me, put in two scales,
Will even weigh, and both as light as tales.
LYSANDER
I had no judgment when to her I swore.
HELENA
Nor none, in my mind, now you give her o’er.
LYSANDER
Demetrius loves her, and he loves not you.
DEMETRIUS
[Awaking] O Helena, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine!
To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne?
Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show
Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!
That pure congealed white, high Taurus snow,
Fann’d with the eastern wind, turns to a crow
When thou hold’st up thy hand: O, let me kiss
This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss!
HELENA
O spite! O hell! I see you all are bent
To set against me for your merriment:
If you we re civil and knew courtesy,
You would not do me thus much injury.
Can you not hate me, as I know you do,
But you must join in souls to mock me too?
If you were men, as men you are in show,
You would not use a gentle lady so;
To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts,
When I am sure you hate me with your hearts.
You both are rivals, and love Hermia;
And now both rivals, to mock Helena:
A trim exploit, a manly enterprise,
To conjure tears up in a poor maid’s eyes
With your derision! none of noble sort
Would so offend a virgin, and extort
A poor soul’s patience, all to make you sport.
LYSANDER
You are unkind, Demetrius; be not so;
For you love Hermia; this you know I know:
And here, with all good will, with all my heart,
In Hermia’s love I yield you up my part;
And yours of Helena to me bequeath,
Whom I do love and will do till my death.
HELENA
Never did mockers waste more idle breath.
DEMETRIUS
Lysander, keep thy Hermia; I will none:
If e’er I loved her, all that love is gone.
My heart to her but as guest-wise sojourn’d,
And now to Helen is it home return’d,
There to remain.
LYSANDER
Helen, it is not so.
DEMETRIUS
Disparage not the faith thou dost not know,
Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dear.
Look, where thy love comes; yonder is thy dear.
Re-enter HERMIA
HERMIA
Dark night, that from the eye his function takes,
The ear more quick of apprehension makes;
Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense,
It pays the hearing double recompense.
Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found;
Mine ear, I thank it, brought me to thy sound
But why unkindly didst thou leave me so?
LYSANDER
Why should he stay, whom love doth press to go?
HERMIA
What love could press Lysander from my side?
LYSANDER
Lysander’s love, that would not let him bide,
Fair Helena, who more engilds the night
Than all you fiery oes and eyes of light.
Why seek’st thou me? could not this make thee know,
The hate I bear thee made me leave thee so?
HERMIA
You speak not as you think: it cannot be.
HELENA
Lo, she is one of this confederacy!
Now I perceive they have conjoin’d all three
To fashion this false sport in spite of me.
Injurious Hermia, most ungrateful maid,
Have you conspir’d, have you with these contriv’d
To bait me with this foul derision?
Is all the counsel that we two have shar’d,
The sister’s vows, the hours that we have spent
When we have chid the hasty-footed time
For parting us–O, is it all forgot?
All school-days’ friendship, childhood innocence?
We, Hermia, like two artificial gods
Have with our needles created both one flower,
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,
Both warbling of one song, both in one key,
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds
Had been incorporate. So we grow together
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
But yet an union in partition;
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem;
So with two seeming bodies but one heart,
Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,
Due but to one and crowned with one crest.
And will you rent our ancient love asunder,
To join with men in scorning your poor friend?
It is not friendly, ’tis not maidenly.
Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it,
Though I alone do feel the injury.
HERMIA
I am amazed at your passionate words.
I scorn you not: it seems that you scorn me.
HELENA
Have you not set Lysander, as in scorn,
To follow me and praise my eyes and face?
And made your other love, Demetrius,
Who even but now did spurn me with his foot,
To call me goddess, nymph, divine and rare,
Precious, celestial? Wherefore speaks he this
To her he hates? and wherefore doth Lysander
Deny your love, so rich within his soul,
And tender me, forsooth, affection,
But by your setting on, by your consent?
What thought I be not so in grace as you,
So hung upon with love, so fortunate,
But miserable most, to love unloved?
This you should pity rather than despise.
HERMIA
I understand not what you mean by this.
Definition
Oxford | 2001
HELENA
Lo, she is one of this confederacy!
Now I perceive they have conjoin’d all three
To fashion this false sport in spite of me.
Injurious Hermia, most ungrateful maid,
Have you conspir’d, have you with these contriv’d
To bait me with this foul derision?
Is all the counsel that we two have shar’d,
The sister’s vows, the hours that we have spent
When we have chid the hasty-footed time
For parting us–O, is all forgot?
All school-days’ friendship, childhood innocence?
We, Hermia, like two artificial gods
Have with our needles created both one flower,
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,
Both warbling of one song, both in one key,
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds
Had been incorporate. So we grow together
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
But yet an union in partitiön;
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem;
So with two seeming bodies but one heart,
Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,
Due but to one and crownèd with one crest.
And will you rent our ancient love asunder,
To join with men in scorning your poor friend?
It is not friendly, ’tis not maidenly.
Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it,
Though I alone do feel the injury.
Translation
Oxford | 2001
HELENA
Lo, she is one of this confederacy!
Now I perceive they have conjoin’d all three
To fashion this false sport in spite of me.
Injurious Hermia, most ungrateful maid,
Have you conspir’d, have you with these contriv’d
To bait me with this foul derision?
Is all the counsel that we two have shar’d,
The sister’s vows, the hours that we have spent
When we have chid the hasty-footed time
For parting us–O, is all forgot?
All school-days’ friendship, childhood innocence?
We, Hermia, like two artificial gods
Have with our needles created both one flower,
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,
Both warbling of one song, both in one key,
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds
Had been incorporate. So we grow together
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
But yet an union in partitiön;
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem;
So with two seeming bodies but one heart,
Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,
Due but to one and crownèd with one crest.
And will you rent our ancient love asunder,
To join with men in scorning your poor friend?
It is not friendly, ’tis not maidenly.
Our sex, as well as I, may chide you for it,
Though I alone do feel the injury.