| Thou hast it now: king, Cawdor, Glamis, all,As the weird women promised, and I fearThou played’st most foully for ‘t. | Banquo |
| Yet it was saidIt should not stand in thy posterity,But that myself should be the root and fatherOf many kings. | Banquo (he is predicted to be the father of the future king) |
| Ride you this afternoon? | Macbeth (asking banquo if he’s going riding) |
| We hear our bloody cousins are bestowedIn England and in Ireland, not confessingTheir cruel parricide, filling their hearersWith strange invention | Macbeth |
| Let every man be master of his timeTill seven at night. To make societyThe sweeter welcome, we will keep ourselfTill suppertime alone | Macbeth |
| To be thus is nothing,But to be safely thus. | Macbeth |
| ‘Tis much he dares,And to that dauntless temper of his mindHe hath a wisdom that doth guide his valorTo act in safety. There is none but heWhose being I do fear, and under himMy genius is rebuked, as it is saidMark Antony’s was by Caesar. | Macbeth (speaking of Banquo) |
| Upon my head they placed a fruitless crownAnd put a barren scepter in my grip,Thence to be wrenched with an unlineal hand,No son of mine succeeding. | Macbeth |
| KnowThat it was he, in the times past, which held youSo under fortune, which you thought had beenOur innocent self. This I made good to youIn our last conference, passed in probation with you, | Macbeth |
| We are men, my liege. | Murderer |
| Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men,As hounds and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs,Shoughs, water-rugs, and demi-wolves are cleptAll by the name of dogs. | Macbeth (Speaking to the murderers) |
| Now, if you have a station in the file,Not i’ th’ worst rank of manhood, say ‘t,And I will put that business in your bosoms,Whose execution takes your enemy off,Grapples you to the heart and love of us,Who wear our health but sickly in his life,Which in his death were perfect. | Macbeth (addressing murderers) |
| I am one, my liege,Whom the vile blows and buffets of the worldHave so incensed that I am reckless whatI do to spite the world. | Murderer |
| I anotherSo weary with disasters, tugged with fortune,That I would set my life on any chance,To mend it or be rid on ‘t. | Murderer |
| And though I couldWith barefaced power sweep him from my sightAnd bid my will avouch it, yet I must not,For certain friends that are both his and mine,Whose loves I may not drop, but wail his fallWho I myself struck down | Macbeth |
| And thence it is,That I to your assistance do make love,Masking the business from the common eyeFor sundry weighty reasons. | Macbeth |
| Your spirits shine through you | Macbeth (addressing murderers) |
| Banquo, thy soul’s flight,If it find heaven, must find it out tonight. | Macbeth |
| Naught’s had, all’s spent,Where our desire is got without content.’Tis safer to be that which we destroyThan by destruction dwell in doubtful joy. | Lady Macbeth |
| Why do you keep alone,Of sorriest fancies your companions making,Using those thoughts which should indeed have diedWith them they think on? Things without all remedyShould be without regard. What’s done is done. | Lady Macbeth |
| We have scorched the snake, not killed it. | Macbeth |
| Better be with the dead,Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace,Than on the torture of the mind to lieIn restless ecstasy. | Macbeth |
| Let your remembranceApply to Banquo; present him eminence,Both with eye and tongue: unsafe the while that weMust lave our honors in these flattering streams,And make our faces vizards to our hearts,Disguising what they are. | Macbeth |
| Oh, full of scorpions is my mind | Macbeth |
| Ere the bat hath flownHis cloistered flight, ere to black Hecate’s summonsThe shard-borne beetle with his drowsy humsHath rung night’s yawning peal, there shall be doneA deed of dreadful note. | Macbeth (referencing dung beetles) |
| Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest chuck,Till thou applaud the deed. | Macbeth (calling his wife “Chuck”) |
| Come, seeling night,Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful dayAnd with thy bloody and invisible handCancel and tear to pieces that great bondWhich keeps me pale. Light thickens, and the crowMakes wing to th’ rooky wood. | Macbeth |
| He needs not our mistrust, since he deliversOur offices and what we have to doTo the direction just. | Murderer (on the subject of the mysterious third murderer) |
| The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day.Now spurs the lated traveler apaceTo gain the timely inn, and near approachesThe subject of our watch. | Murderer (here comes banquo) |
| A light, a light! | Murderer (look a torch!) |
| It will be rain tonight. | Banquo |
| O treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly!Thou may ‘st revenge —O slave! | Banquo |
| You know your own degrees; sit down. At firstAnd last, the hearty welcome. | Macbeth |
| Ourself will mingle with societyAnd play the humble host.Our hostess keeps her state, but in best timeWe will require her welcome. | Macbeth |
| Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends,For my heart speaks they are welcome. | Lady Macbeth |
| See, they encounter thee with their hearts’ thanks.Both sides are even. Here I’ll sit i’ th’ midst.Be large in mirth. Anon we’ll drink a measureThe table round. | Macbeth |
| There’s blood upon thy face. | Macbeth (Murderer, you’ve got blood on your face) |
| Thou art the best o’ th’ cutthroats:Yet he’s good that did the like for Fleance.If thou didst it, thou art the nonpareil. | Macbeth |
| I had else been perfect,Whole as the marble, founded as the rock,As broad and general as the casing air.But now I am cabined, cribbed, confined, bound inTo saucy doubts and fears. | Macbeth (aw Fleance escaped. Looks like I’m in trouble) |
| There the grown serpent lies. The worm that’s fledHath nature that in time will venom breed;No teeth for th’ present. | Macbeth (referencing Fleance) |
| You do not give the cheer. The feast is soldThat is not often vouched, while ’tis a-making,’Tis given with welcome. To feed were best at home;From thence, the sauce to meat is ceremony;Meeting were bare without it. | Lady Macbeth |
| Sweet remembrancer!Now, good digestion wait on appetite,And health on both! | Macbeth (in toast) |
| Here had we now our country’s honor roofed,Were the graced person of our Banquo present,Who may I rather challenge for unkindnessThan pity for mischance. | Macbeth |
| His absence, sir,Lays blame upon his promise. Please ‘t your highnessTo grace us with your royal company? | Ross |
| Gentlemen, rise. His highness is not well. | Ross |
| If much you note him,You shall offend him and extend his passion.Feed and regard him not. | Lady Macbeth |
| This is the very painting of your fear.This is the air-drawn dagger which you saidLed you to Duncan. | Lady Macbeth |
| Oh, these flaws and starts,Impostors to true fear, would well becomeA woman’s story at a winter’s fire,Authorized by her grandam. | Lady Macbeth |
| Shame itself!Why do you make such faces? When all’s done,You look but on a stool. | Lady Macbeth |
| If charnel houses and our graves must sendThose that we bury back, our monumentsShall be the maws of kites. | Macbeth |
| Blood hath been shed ere now, i’ th’ olden time,Ere humane statute purged the gentle weal; | Macbeth |
| Ay, and since too, murders have been performedToo terrible for the ear. The time has beenThat, when the brains were out, the man would die,And there an end. But now they rise againWith twenty mortal murders on their crownsAnd push us from our stools. This is more strangeThan such a murder is. | Macbeth (referencing the ghost) |
| I have a strange infirmity, which is nothingTo those that know me. Come, love and health to all. | Macbeth |
| Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold.Thou hast no speculation in those eyesWhich thou dost glare with! | Macbeth |
| What man dare, I dare.Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear,The armed rhinoceros, or th’ Hyrcan tiger;Take any shape but that, and my firm nervesShall never tremble. | Macbeth |
| be alive again,And dare me to the desert with thy sword.If trembling I inhabit then, protest meThe baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow!Unreal mockery, hence! | Macbeth |
| I am a man again. Pray you sit still. | Macbeth |
| You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting,With most admired disorder. | Lady Macbeth |
| Can such things be,And overcome us like a summer’s cloud,Without our special wonder? You make me strangeEven to the disposition that I owe,When now I think you can behold such sights,And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks,When mine is blanched with fear. | Macbeth |
| At once, good night.Stand not upon the order of your going,But go at once. | Lady Macbeth |
| It will have blood, they say. Blood will have blood.Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak. | Macbeth |
| Augurs and understood relations haveBy magot pies and choughs and rooks brought forthThe secret’st man of blood. | Macbeth |
| There’s not a one of them but in his houseI keep a servant fee’d | Macbeth |
| I am in bloodStepped in so far that, should I wade no more,Returning were as tedious as go o’er. | Macbeth |
| You lack the season of all natures, sleep. | Lady Macbeth |
| My strange and self-abuseIs the initiate fear that wants hard use.We are yet but young in deed. | Macbeth |
| My former speeches have but hit your thoughts,Which can interpret farther. Only I sayThings have been strangely borne. | Lennox |
| Men must not walk too late.Who cannot want the thought how monstrousIt was for Malcolm and for DonalbainTo kill their gracious father? | Lennox |
| Did he not straightIn pious rage the two delinquents tearThat were the slaves of drink and thralls of sleep?Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely too, | Lennox |
| He has borne all things well. | Lennox |
| His presence at the tyrant’s feast, I hearMacduff lives in disgrace. | Lennox |
| The son of Duncan—From whom this tyrant holds the due of birth—Lives in the English court and is receivedOf the most pious Edward with such graceThat the malevolence of fortune nothingTakes from his high respect. | Lord |
| And this reportHath so exasperated the king that hePrepares for some attempt of war. | Lord |
| He did, and with an absolute “Sir, not I,”The cloudy messenger turns me his back,And hums, as who should say “You’ll rue the timeThat clogs me with this answer.” | Lord |
| Some holy angelFly to the court of England and unfoldHis message ere he come, that a swift blessingMay soon return to this our suffering countryUnder a hand accursed! | Lennox |
Macbeth Act 3 Quote Identification
August 16, 2019