Fair is foul, and foul is fair.
(I, i, 10)
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.
(I, iii, 123-126)
There’s no art
To find the mind’s construction in the face:
He was gentleman on who I built
An absolute trust.
(I, iv, 12-15)
The Prince of Cumberland! That is a step
On which I must fall down, or else o’erleap,
For in my way it lies.
(I, iv, 49-50)
Yet do I fear they nature;
It is too full o’ th’ milk of human kindness
To catch the nearest way.
(I, v, 14-16)
Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,
Your hand, your tongue: look like th’ innocent flower,
But be the serpent under’t.
(I, v, 62-64)
Away, and mock the time with fairest show:
False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
(I, vii, 81-82)
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.
(II, i, 33-35)
I go, and it is done: the bell invites me.
Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knell
That summons thee to heaven, or to hell.
(II, i, 62-64)
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.
(II, ii, 58-62)
A little water clears us of this deed:
(II, ii, 66)
There's daggers in men's smiles;
(II, iii, 133)
O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly!
(III, iii, 17)
Thou canst not say I did it. Never shake
Thy gory locks at me.
(III, iii, 50)
And you all know security
Is mortals’ chiefest enemy.
(III, v, 31-33)
Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself;
Within my sword’s length set him. If he ‘scape,
Heaven forgive him too!
(IV, iii, 232-234)
Out, damned spot! Out, I say!
(V, i, 31)
Out, out, brief candle!
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.
(V, v, 23-28)
Before my body
I throw my warlike shield. Lay on, Macduff;
And damned be him that first cries “Hold, enough!”
(V, viii, 32-34)
Hail, king! for so thou art: behold, where stands
Th’ usurper’s cursèd head. The time is free.
I see thee compassed with thy kingdom’s pearl,
That speak my salutation in their minds,
Whose voices I desire aloud with mine:
Hail, King of Scotland!
(V, viii, 54-58)