Fair is foul and foul is fair, this dead butcher and his fiend like queen, His brandish’d steel Which smoked with bloody execution, Come to my woman’s breasts And take my milk for gall, I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more is none, Art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation?, Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand?, Dark night strangles the travelling lamp, It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood, Who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him, It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing, I have no spur / To prick the sides of my intent, but only / Vaulting ambition, Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell / That summons thee to heaven or to hell, Is this a dagger I see before me?, Look like th’ innocent flower, / But be the serpent under’t, Out damned spot! Out, I say!, When you durst do it, then you were a man, If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me, Beware Macduff’ ‘For none of woman born Shall harm Macbeth, This castle hath a pleasant seat, Unsex me here, O horror, horror, horror! Ring the alarum bell! Murder and treason!, O, full of scorpions is my mind dear wife!, O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly. Thou mayst revenge, Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble., What you egg! Young fry of treachery!, Lay on, Macduff, and damned be him that first cries, ‘Hold, enough!, That look not like th' inhabitants o' th' Earth, Never shake thy gory locks at me, Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold, Pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, there’s daggers in men’s smiles, Sleep no more! Macbeth hath murdered sleep, Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood from my hand?, Here lay Duncan, his silver skin laced with his golden blood, Out, out, brief candle. Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, Yet I do fear thy nature, is too full o' th' milk of human kindness,

Macbeth

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