112 quotes
Bleed, bleed, poor country!
Great Tyranny! lay thou thy basis sure,
For goodness dares not check thee!
Macbeth (1605)
But I remember now
I am in this earthly world; where, to do harm,
Is often laudable; to do good, sometime,
Accounted dangerous folly.
Macbeth (1605)
I pull in resolution, and begin
To doubt the equivocation of the fiend
That lies like truth: "Fear not, till Birnam wood
Do come to Dunsinane."
Macbeth (1605)
What, can the devil speak true?
Macbeth (1605)
Come, seeling night,
Skarf up the tender eye of pitiful day;
And with thy bloody and invisible hand,
Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond
Which keeps me pale!
Macbeth (1605)
They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly.
But, bear-like, I must fight the course.
Macbeth (1605)
Were such things here as we do speak about?
Or have we eaten on the insane root
That takes the reason prisoner?
Macbeth (1605)
We fail!
But screw your courage to the sticking-place,
And we'll not fail.
Macbeth (1605)
Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care,
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast.
Macbeth (1605)
Therein the patient
Must minister to himself.
Throw physic to the dogs; I'll none of it.
Macbeth (1605)
Nay, had I power, I should
Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,
Uproar the universal peace, confound
All unity on earth.
Macbeth (1605)
I am one, my liege,
Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world
Have so incens'd that I am reckless what
I do to spite the world.
Macbeth (1605)
Better be with the dead,
Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace,
Than on the torture of the mind to lie
In restless ecstacy.
Macbeth (1605)
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.
Macbeth (1605)
The king-becoming graces,
As justice, verity, temperance, stableness,
Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,
Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,
I have no relish of them.
Macbeth (1605)
Blow, wind! come, wrack!
At least we'll die with harness on our back.
Macbeth (1605)
I have no spur
To prick the sides of my intent, but only
Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself,
And falls on the other.
Macbeth (1605)
Malcolm! awake!
Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit,
And look on death itself! up, up, and see
The great doom's image!
Macbeth (1606)
We have scotched the snake, not killed it:
She'll close and be herself, whilst our poor malice
Remains in danger of our former tooth.
Macbeth (1605)
There grows,
In my most ill-compos'd affection such
A stanchless avarice, that, were I king,
I should cut off the nobles for their lands.
Macbeth (1605)