Macbeth Quotes - Page 2 | Just Great DataBase

MACBETH:Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd,Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,Raze out the written troubles of the brain,And with some sweet oblivious antidoteCleanse the stuff'd bosom of the perilous stuffWhich weighs upon the heart?DOCTOR:Therein the patient Must minister to himself.

Unnatural deeds do breed unnatural troubles.

A little water clears us of this deed.

The grief that does not speak whispers the o'erfraught heart and bids it break.

Screw your courage to the sticking-place

When shall we three meet againIn thunder, lightning, or in rain?

He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace and fear:And you all know, securityIs mortals' chiefest enemy.

Still it cried ‘Sleep no more!’ to all the house: ‘Glamis hath murder’d sleep, and therefore Cawdor shall sleep no more,—Macbeth shall sleep no more!

I drink to the general joy o’ the whole table." Macbeth

My hands are of your colour; but I shame To wear a heart so white.

Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? - Lady Macbeth

Alas, poor country, almost afraid to know itself! It cannot be called our mother, but our grave.

I have supped full with horrors.

Fair is foul, and foul is fair.

Let every man be master of his time.

غداً، وغداً، وغداً،وكل غد يزحف بهذه الخطى الحقيرة يوماً إثر يومحتى المقطع الأخير من الزمن المكتوب،وإذا كل أماسينا قد أنارت للحمقى المساكينالطريق إلى الموت والتراب، ألا انطفئي، يا شمعةوجيزة!ما الحياة إلا ظل يمشي، ممثل مسكينيتبختر ويستشيط ساعته على المسرح،ثم لا يسمعه أحد: إنها حكايةيحكيها معتوه، ملؤها الصخب والعنف،ولا تعنى أى شىء

What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine eyes! 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. My hands are of your colour; but I shame to wear a heart so white. A little water clears us of this deed: How easy it is then! Your constancy hath left you unattended.

I am settled, and bend up each corporal agent to this terrible feat. Away, and mock the time with fairest show: False face must hide what the false heart doth know.

But tis strange: And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, the Instruments of Darkness tell us truths, win us with honest trifles, to betray's in deepest consequence.

Away and mark the time with fairest show,False face must hide what false heart dothknow.

thou art the best o' the cut-throats

To beguile the time, look like the time.

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.

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,Shakes so my single state of manThat function is smothered in surmise,And nothing is but what is not.

What soilders whey-face?The English for so please you.Take thy face hence.

I have almost forgotten the taste of fears: The time has been, my senses would have cool’d to hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir as life were in’t: I have supt full with horrors; Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, cannot once start me.

So well thy words become thee as thy wounds;

Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead are but as pictures: ‘tis the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil

To beguile the time, look like the time. Bear welcome in your eye, your hand, your tongue.

Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack! At least we'll die with harness on our back.

Lay on, McDuff, and be damned he who first cries, 'Hold, enough!

Art thou afeardTo be the same in thine own act and valourAs thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have thatWhich thou esteem'st the ornament of life,And live a coward in thine own esteem,Letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I would,'Like the poor cat i' the adage?

But screw your courage to the sticking place, and we'll not fail.

Who can be wise, amazed, temp'rate, and furious,Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man.

Fit to govern? No, not fit to live.

o, never shall sun that morrow see

I 'gin to be aweary of the sun,And wish th' estate o' th' world were now undone.

Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold.

Then the liars and swearers are fools, for there are liars and swearers enough to beat the honest men and hang up them.

As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, / I must not look to have; but, in their stead, / Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, / Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not" (5.3.25-28).

Infected minds to their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.

The expedition of my violent love outrun the pauser, reason.

It will have blood they say - blood will have blood.

When shall we three meet again, in thunder, lightning, or in rain?

They met me in the day of success: and I havelearned by the perfectest report, they have more inthem than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desireto question them further, they made themselves air,into which they vanished. Whiles I stood rapt inthe wonder of it, came missives from the king, whoall-hailed me 'Thane of Cawdor;' by which title,before, these weird sisters saluted me, and referredme to the coming on of time, with 'Hail, king thatshalt be!' This have I thought good to deliverthee, my dearest partner of greatness, that thoumightst not lose the dues of rejoicing, by beingignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay itto thy heart, and farewell.

Banquo:It will rain tonight.First Murderer:Let it come down.

Were such things here as we do speak about?Or have we eaten on the insane rootThat takes the reason prisoner?

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

My plenteous joys,Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselvesIn drops of sorrow.

What man I 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 nerves shall never tremble.