Duncan is in his grave!

After life's fitful fever he sleeps well.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

But now, I am cabined, cribbed,

confined, bound in

To saucy doubts and fears.

Act iii. Sc. 4.

Now good digestion wait on appetite,
And health on both!

Act iii. Sc 4.

Thou canst not say, I did it; never shake

Thy gory locks at me.

Act iii. Sc. 4.

The times have been,

That, when the brains were out, the man would die, And there an end: but now they rise again, With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, And push us from our stools.

Act iii. Sc. 4.

Thou hast no speculation in those eyes

Which thou dost glare with!

Act iii. Sc. 4.

What man dare, I dare.

Act iii. Sc. 4.

Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves

Shall never tremble.

Unreal mockery, hence!

Act iii. Sc. 4.

Act iii. Sc. 4.

You have displaced the mirth, broke the good

meeting, with most admired disorder.

Act iii, Sc. 4.

Can such things be,

And overcome us like a summer's cloud,
Without our special wonder?

Act iii. Sc. 4.

Show his eyes, and grieve his heart!
Come like shadows, so depart.

Act iv. Sc. 1.

What will the line stretch out to the crack of doom? Act iv. Sc. 1.

These lines occur also in "The Witch" of Thomas Middleton, Act 5, Sc. 2; and it is uncertain to which the priority should be ascribed.

Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.

Act iv. Sc. 3.

Stands Scotland where it did?

Act iv. Sc. 3.

Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak, Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break.

Act iv. Sc. 3.

What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam,

At one fell swoop?

Act iv. Sc. 3.

I cannot but remember such things were,

That were most precious to me.

Act iv. Sc. 3.

O, I could play the woman with mine eyes,

And braggart with my tongue!

Act iv. Sc. 3.

Fie, my lord, fie, a soldier and afeared. Act v. Sc. 1.

All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.

Ac v. Sc 1.

y w y f l fe

Is fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf;
And that which should accompany old age,

As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends,
I must not look to have; but, in their stead,
Curses, not loud, but deep, mouth-honor, breath,
Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare

not.

Act v. Sc. 3.

Not so sick, my lord,

As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies,
That keep her from her rest.

Act v. Sc. 3.

Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased;
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow;
Raze out the written troubles of the brain;
And, with some sweet oblivious antidote,
Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart?

Act v. Sc. 3.

Therein the patient must minister to himself.

Act v. Sc. 3.

Throw physic to the dogs: I'll none of it.

I would applaud thee to the very echo,
That should applaud again.

Act v. Sc. 3.

Act v. Sc. 3.

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.

Lies like truth.

Act v. Sc. 5.

Act v. Sc. 5.

Blow, wind! come, wrack!

At least we 'll die with harness on our back.

I bear a charmed life.

Act V.

Sc. 5.

Act v. Sc. 7.

That palter with us in a double sense;

That keep the word of promise to our ear,

And break it to our hope.

Act v. Sc. 7.

Lay on, Macduff;

And damned be him that first cries, Hold, enough!

Act v. Sc. 7.