Analyze 1 of the following speeches for its content and impact upon the play. Think about who said the speech, where is it from in the story? Is it only important for a specific portion of the play, or does it encompass the entire play? Does it give insight into a character’s personality, mental state, motivations, or conflicts? Is the speech talking of the past, present, future, or a combination of these times? When you are analyzing, you are also trying to prove the point you are making (How it impacts/influences the play). This means bringing in more than just the quote (the quote is the starting point). Make connections to later in the play, to your own life and understanding (you are a credible source so long as you make yourself one–meaning that you backup your own experiences with evidence and reasoning). 1. There’s no art To find the mind’s construction in the face: He was a gentleman on whom I built An absolute trust. O worthiest cousin! The sin of my ingratitude even now Was heavy on me: thou art so far before That swiftest wing of recompense is slow To overtake thee. Would thou hadst less deserved, That the proportion both of thanks and payment Might have been mine! only I have left to say, More is thy due than more than all can pay. 2. Thou hast it now: king, Cawdor, Glamis, all, As the weird women promised, and, I fear, Thou play’dst most foully for’t: yet it was said It should not stand in thy posterity, But that myself should be the root and father Of many kings. If there come truth from them– As upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine– Why, by the verities on thee made good, May they not be my oracles as well, And set me up in hope? But hush! no more. 3.But Macbeth is. A good and virtuous nature may recoil In an imperial charge. But I shall crave your pardon; That which you are my thoughts cannot transpose: Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell; Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, Yet grace must still look so. 4. 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.