| By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes. | Witch |
| Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! Beware Macduff. Beware the thane of Fife. Dismiss me. Enough. | Apparition 1 |
| Be bloody, bold, and resolute. Laugh to scorn The power of man, for none of woman born Shall harm Macbeth. | Apparition 2 |
| Be lion-mettled, proud, and take no care Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are. Macbeth shall never vanquished be until Great Birnam Wood to high Dunsinane Hill Shall come against him. | Apparition 3 |
| Seek to know no more. | All (Witches) |
| The castle of Macduff I will surprise, Seize upon Fife, give to th’ edge o’ th’ sword His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls That trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool. This deed I’ll do before this purpose cool. But no more sights!—Where are these gentlemen? Come, bring me where they are. | Macbeth |
| Now, God help thee, poor monkey! But how wilt thou do for a father? | Lady Macduff |
| Thou liest, thou shag-haired villain! | Son |
| He has killed me, mother. Run away, I pray you | Son |
| Bleed, bleed, poor country! Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure | Macduff |
| Not in the legions Of horrid hell can come a devil more damned In evils to top Macbeth. | Macduff |
| For strangers to my nature. I am yet Unknown to woman, never was forsworn, Scarcely have coveted what was mine own, At no time broke my faith, would not betray | Malcolm |
| Your castle is surprised, your wife and babes Savagely slaughtered. To relate the manner, Were, on the quarry of these murdered deer To add the death of you. | Ross |
| He has no children. All my pretty ones? Did you say all? O hell-kite! All? What, all my pretty chickens and their dam At one fell swoop? | Macduff |
| Dispute it like a man. | Malcolm |
| Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo. Down!Thy crown does sear mine eyeballs. And thy hair,Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first.A third is like the former.—Filthy hags!Why do you show me this? A fourth? Start, eyes!What, will the line stretch out to th’ crack of doom?Another yet? A seventh? I’ll see no more.And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glassWhich shows me many more, and some I seeThat twofold balls and treble scepters carry.Horrible sight! Now I see ’tis true;For the blood-boltered Banquo smiles upon meAnd points at them for his. | Macbeth |
| Time, thou anticipatest my dread exploits.The flighty purpose never is o’ertookUnless the deed go with it. From this momentThe very firstlings of my heart shall beThe firstlings of my hand. And even now,To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done:The castle of Macduff I will surprise,Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o’ the swordHis wife, his babes, and all unfortunate soulsThat trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool;This deed I’ll do before this purpose cool.But no more sights!-Where are these gentlemen?Come, bring me where they are. | Macbeth |
| Wisdom! To leave his wife, to leave his babes,His mansion and his titles in a placeFrom whence himself does fly? He loves us not;He wants the natural touch. For the poor wren,The most diminutive of birds, will fight,Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.All is the fear and nothing is the love,As little is the wisdom, where the flightSo runs against all reason. | Lady Macduff |
| I grant him bloody,Luxurious, avaricious, false, deceitful,Sudden, malicious, smacking of every sinThat has a name. But there’s no bottom, none,In my voluptuousness. Your wives, your daughters,Your matrons, and your maids could not fill upThe cistern of my lust, and my desireAll continent impediments would o’erbearThat did oppose my will. Better MacbethThan such an one to reign. | Malcolm |
| black Macbeth will seem as pure as snow, and the poor state esteem as a lamb, being compared with my confineless harms” | Malcolm |
| Your castle is surprised, your wife and babesSavagely slaughtered. To relate the manner,Were, on the quarry of these murdered deerTo add the death of you. | Ross |
| Merciful heaven!What, man! Ne’er pull your hat upon your brows.Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speakWhispers the o’erfraught heart and bids it break. | Malcolm |
| Double, double toil and trouble; / Fire burn, and cauldron bubble. | All (Witches) |
| That will never be: / Who can impress the forest, / bid the tree / Unfix his earthbound root? / Sweet bodements, good. / Rebellious dead, rise never till the wood / Of Birnam rise, and our high-plac’d Macbeth / Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath / To time and mortal custom. Yet my heart / Throbs to know one thing. Tell me, if your art / Can tell so much, shall Banquo’s issue ever / Reign in this kingdom? | Macbeth |
| Ay, sir, all this is so. But whyStands Macbeth thus amazedly?Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites,And show the best of our delights.I’ll charm the air to give a sound,While you perform your antic roundThat this great king may kindly say,Our duties did his welcome pay. | Witch |
| But I have none. The king-becoming graces —As justice, verity, temp’rance, stableness,Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude —I have no relish of them, but aboundIn the division of each several crime,Acting it in many ways. Nay, had I power, I shouldPour the sweet milk of concord into hell,Uproar the universal peace, confoundAll unity on earth. | Malcolm |
| Let us rather hold fast the mortal sword and like good men bestride our downfall birthdom; each new morn, new widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrows strike heaven on the face, that it resounds as if it felt with Scotland and yell’d out like syllable of dolour. | Macduff |
| 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. | Malcolm |
| ‘Tis called the Evil. A most miraculous work in this good king, which often since my here-remain in England I have seen him do. | Malcolm |
| Alas, poor country, almost afraid to know itself. It cannot be call’d our mother, but our grave, where nothing, but who knows nothing, is once seen to smile; where sighs, and groans, and shrieks that rend the air are made, not mark’d; where violent sorrow seems a modern ecstasy. The deadman’s knell is there scarce ask’d for who, and good men’s lives expire before the flowers in their caps, dying or ere they sicken. | Ross |
| When I came hither to transport the tidings,Which I have heavily borne, there ran a rumourOf many worthy fellows that were out;Which was to my belief witness’d the rather,For that I saw the tyrant’s power a-foot:Now is the time of help; your eye in ScotlandWould create soldiers, make our women fight,To doff their dire distresses. | Ross |
| I conjure you, by that which you profess,Howe’er you come to know it, answer me:Though you untie the winds and let them fightAgainst the churches; though the yesty wavesConfound and swallow navigation up;Though bladed corn be lodged and trees blown down;Though castles topple on their warders’ heads;Though palaces and pyramids do slopeTheir heads to their foundations; though the treasureOf nature’s germens tumble all together,Even till destruction sicken; answer meTo what I ask you. | Macbeth |
| My dearest coz,I pray you, school yourself: but for your husband,He is noble, wise, judicious, and best knowsThe fits o’ the season. I dare not speakmuch further;But cruel are the times, when we are traitorsAnd do not know ourselves, when we hold rumourFrom what we fear, yet know not what we fear,But float upon a wild and violent seaEach way and move. I take my leave of you:Shall not be long but I’ll be here again:Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upwardTo what they were before. My pretty cousin,Blessing upon you! | Ross |
| Then the liars and swearers are fools,for there are liars and swearers enough to beatthe honest men and hang up them. | Son |
| Bless you, fair dame! I am not to you known,Though in your state of honour I am perfect.I doubt some danger does approach you nearly:If you will take a homely man’s advice,Be not found here; hence, with your little ones.To fright you thus, methinks, I am too savage;To do worse to you were fell cruelty,Which is too nigh your person. Heaven preserve you!I dare abide no longer. | Messenger |
| What I believe I’ll wail,What know believe, and what I can redress,As I shall find the time to friend, I will.What you have spoke, it may be so perchance.This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues,Was once thought honest: you have loved him well.He hath not touch’d you yet. I am young;but somethingYou may deserve of him through me, and wisdomTo offer up a weak poor innocent lambTo appease an angry god. | Malcolm |
| He had none:His flight was madness: when our actions do not,Our fears do make us traitors. | Lady Macduff |
| Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell;Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,Yet grace must still look so. | Malcolm |
| Fare thee well, lord:I would not be the villian that thou think’stFor the whole space that’s in the tyrant’s grasp,And the rich East to boot. | Macduff |
| Nay, had I power, I shouldPour the sweet milk of concord into hell,Uproar the universal peace, confoundAll unity on earth. | Malcolm |
| Where sighs, and groans, and shrieks that rent the air,Are made, not markt; where violent sorrow seemsA modern ecstasy: the dead man’s knellIs there scarce askt for who; and good men’s livesExpire before the flowers in their caps,Dying or e’er they sicken. | Ross |
| Give sorrow words: the grief that does not speakWhispers the o’er-fraught heart, and bids it break. | Malcolm |
Macbeth Act 4 Quotes
July 3, 2019