I Witch.

MACBETH.

When shall we three meet again, In thunder, lightning, or in rain? 2 Witch. When the hurly-burly 's done, When the battle 's lost and won.

So wither'd, and so wild in their attire ;

That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth, And yet are on 't?

If you can look into the seeds of time,

Ibid.

And say which grain will grow, and which will

not.

Ibid.

Stands not within the prospect of belief. Ibid.

The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,

And these are of them.

The insane root

That takes the reason prisoner.

Ibid.

Ibid.

And 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.

Ibid.

[Macbeth continued.

Two truths are told,

As happy prologues to the swelling act

Of the imperial theme.

Acti. Sc. 3.

And make my seated heart knock at my ribs.

Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.

Nothing in his life

Ibid.

Became him like the leaving it; he died,
As one that had been studied in his death,
To throw away the dearest thing he owed,
As 't were a careless trifle.
Act i. Sc. 4.

There's no art

To find the mind's construction in the face.

Yet do I fear thy nature:

Ibid.

It is too full o' the milk of human kindness.

Acti. Sc. 5..

What thou wouldst highly,

That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false,

And yet wouldst wrongly win.

Ibid.

That no compunctious visitings of nature

Shake my fell purpose.

Ibid.

Your face, my Thane, is as a book, where men

May read strange matters: to beguile the time,

Macbeth continued.]

Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,

Your hand, your tongue; look like the innocent flower,

But be the serpent under it.

Acti. Sc. 5.

Which shall to all our nights and days to come Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.

This castle hath a pleasant seat: the air
Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself
Unto our gentle senses.

Ibid.

Act i. Sc. 6.

The heaven's breath

Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze,

Buttress, nor coigne of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle Where they most breed and haunt, I have observ'd

The air is delicate.

Ibid.

If it were done, when 't is done, then 't were well
It were done quickly: if the assassination
Could trammel up the consequence, and catch
With his surcease, success; that but this blow
Might be the be-all and the end-all here,
But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,
We'd jump the life to come.

Acti. Sc. 7.

We but teach

Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return. To plague the inventor. This even-handed justice

Commends the ingredientsof our poison'dchalice To our own lips.

Ibid.

[Macbeth continued.

Besides, this Duncan

Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been
So clear in his great office, that his virtues
Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against
The deep damnation of his taking-off;
And pity, like a naked new-born babe,
Striding the blast, or Heaven's cherubin, hors'd
Upon the sightless couriers of the air.

Act i. Sc. 7.

I have no spur

To prick the sides of my intent; but only
Vaulting ambition, which o'er-leaps itself,
And falls on the other. -

Ibid.

I dare do all that may become a man ;
Who dares do more, is none.

Ibid.

But screw your courage to the sticking-place,

Macbeth continued.]

Shut up

Act ii. Sc. 1.

In measureless content.

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?

Ibid.

Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going.

Ibid.

Thou sure and firm-set earth,

Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear Thy very stones prate of my whereabout.

Ibid.

Hear it not, Duncan ; for it is a knell
That summons thee to Heaven or to Hell!

Ibid.

It was the owl that shrieked, the fatal bellman Which gives the stern'st good night.

Confounds us.

Ibid.

The attempt, and not the deed,

Ibid.

I had most need of blessing, and "Amen"
Stuck in my throat.

Ibid.

Methought, I heard a voice cry, "Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep," the innocent sleep; Sleep, that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care,

1 Act ii. Sc. 1, White, Dyce, Staunton. Act ii. Sc. 2, Cambridge, Singer, Knight.