| 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 |
MACBETH: Who said it?
August 11, 2019