MACBETH: Who said it?

Fair is foul, and foul is fair. Witches
What are these/ So wither’d and so wild in their attire,/ That look not like the inhabitants o’ the earth,/ And yet are on ‘t? Banquo
Oftentimes, to win us to our harm,/ The instruments of darkness tell us truths,/ Win us with honest trifles, to betray us/ In deepest consequence. Banquo
The Prince of Cumberland! Tha is a step/On which I must fall down, or else oveleap/ For in my way it lies. Macbeth
Yet do I fear thy nature; / It is too full o’the milk of human kindness Lady Macbeth
Come, you spirits / That tend on mortal thought! unsex me here,/ And fill me from the crown to the toe top full/ Of direst cruelty; Lady Macbeth
To beguile the time,/ Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye./ Your hand, your tongue; look like the innocent flower,/ But be the serpent under ‘t. Lady Macbeth
I have no spur/ To prick the isdes of my intent, but only/ Vaulting ambition, which o’erleaps itself,/ And falls on the other. Macbeth
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 plucked my nipple from his boneless gums,/ And dash’d the brains out, had I so sworn as you/ Have done to this. Lady Macbeth
Is this a dagger which I see before me, / The handle toward my hadn? Come, let me clutch thee. Macbeth
Glamis hath murdered sleep, and there Cawdor/ Shall sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no more! Macbeth
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. Macbeth
A little water clears us of this deed. Lady Macbeth
There’s daggers in men’s smiles Donalbain
Thou hast it now: King, Cawdor, Glamis, all,/ As the weird women promised; and, I fear,/ Thou play’dst most foully for’t. Banquo
Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown,/ And put a barren sceptre in my gripe,/ Thence to be wrench’d with an unlineal hand,/ No son of mine succeeding. Macbeth
Out, damned spot!out, I say! Lady Macbeth
All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Lady Macbeth
Foul whisperings are abroad. Unnatural deeds/ Do breed unnatural troubles; infected minds/ To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets:/ More needs she the divine than the physician. Doctor
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. Macbeth
And be these juggling fiends no more believed,/ that deal with in a double sense;/ that keep the word of promise to our ear,/ And break it to our hope. Macbeth
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. Macbeth
Macduff was from his mother’s womb / Untimely ripped. Macduff