Macbeth Play Quotes by William Shakespeare, John Heywood, Emily Rodda and many others.
Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand?
Out, damned spot! out, I say! One: two: why, then ’tis time to do’t. Hell is murky!
Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble!
I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more, is none
Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o’ the milk of human kindness.
There’s no art to find the mind’s construction in the face.
What light through yonder window breaks?
I cannot but remember such things were that were most precious to me.
Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires.
All’s well that ends well.
it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance
Stars hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires: The eyes wink at the hand; yet let that be which the eye fears, when it is done, to see
Things without all remedy should be without regard: what’s done is done.
If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well. It were done quickly.
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.
If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me.
When our actions do not, our fears make us traitors.
Nothing in his life became him like leaving it.
And nothing is, but what is not.
O horror! Horror! Horror! Tongue nor heart Cannot conceive nor name thee!
All is well that ends well
Or art thou but / A dagger of the mind, a false creation, / Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
If you can look into the seeds of time, and say which grain will grow and which will not, speak then unto me.
My hands are of your color, but I shame to wear a heart so white.
My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single state of man That function is smothered in surmise, And nothing is but what is not.
Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow.
The instruments of darkness tell us truths.
If music be the food of love, play on.
By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes.
The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand.
Fair is foul, and foul is fair, hover through fog and filthy air.
Tis the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil.
Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.
Who could refrain that had a heart to love and in that heart courage to make love known?
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.
Out, damned spot! Out, I say!
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).
I am in blood Stepp’d in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o’er.
Confusion now hath made his masterpiece.
But yet I’ll make assurance double sure, and take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live.
