William Shakespeare - MacBeth

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I am in blood
Stepp'd in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er.

William Shakespeare
Hang out our banners on the outward walls;
The cry is still, "They come"; our castle's strength Will laugh a siege to scorn.

William Shakespeare
But yet, I'll make assurance double sure,
And take a bond of fate.

William Shakespeare
The Thane of Fife had a wife: where is she now?

William Shakespeare
What! will the line stretch out to the crack of doom?

William Shakespeare
So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune, That I would set my life on any chance, To mend it or be rid on 't.

William Shakespeare
I have given suck, and know How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me: I would, while it was smiling in my face, Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums, And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this.

William Shakespeare
Your face, my thane, is as a book where men
May read strange matters.

William Shakespeare
Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather
The multitudinous seas incarnadine,
Making the green one red.

William Shakespeare
Say, from whence
You owe this strange intelligence? or why
Upon this blasted heath you stop our way
With such prophetic greeting?

William Shakespeare
Stand not upon the order of your going,
But go at once.

William Shakespeare
And be these juggling fiends no more believ'd, That palter with us in a double sense; That keep the word of promise to our ear And break it to our hope.

William Shakespeare
I 'gin to be aweary of the sun,
And wish the estate o' the world were now undone.
Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack!
At least we'll die with harness on our back.

William Shakespeare
Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee:
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?

William Shakespeare
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
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.

William Shakespeare
Away, and mock the time with fairest show:
False face must hide what the false heart doth
know.

William Shakespeare
I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride,
Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide.
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause,
For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause
But rather reason thus with reason fetter,
Love sought is good, but given unsought better.

William Shakespeare
Show his eyes, and grieve his heart;
Come like shadows, so depart.

William Shakespeare
Confusion now hath made his masterpiece!
Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope
The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thence
The life o' the building!

William Shakespeare
Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be
What thou art promised. Yet I do fear thy nature;
It is too full o' the milk of human kindness
To catch the nearest way.

William Shakespeare
Ere the bat hath flown
His cloistered flight, ere, to black Hecate's summons
The shard-borne beetle with his drowsy hums
Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done
A deed of dreadful note.

William Shakespeare
Where we are,
There's daggers in men's smiles: the near in blood,
The nearer bloody.

William Shakespeare
The night has been unruly: where we lay,
Our chimneys were blown down; and, as they say,
Lamentings heard i' th'air; strange screams of death.

William Shakespeare
Lay on, Macduff;
And damned be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!'

William Shakespeare
I drink to the general joy of the whole table.

William Shakespeare
Nothing in his life
Became him like the leaving it; he died As one that had been studied in his death To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd,
As 'twere a careless trifle.

William Shakespeare
The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!
Where gott'st thou that goose look?

William Shakespeare
Thou hast it now: King, Cawdor, Glamis, all,
As the weird women promised; and, I fear,
Thou play'dst most foully for't.

William Shakespeare
Macbeth: What is the night?
Lady Macbeth: Almost at odds with morning, which is which.

William Shakespeare
It was the owl that shrieked, the fatal bellman,
Which gives the stern'st good-night.

William Shakespeare