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Sticks deeper, grows with more pernicious root
Than summer-seeming lust, and it hath been
The sword of our slain kings.
- Macbeth (Macduff at IV, iii) [Avarice]
This tyrant, whole sole name blisters our tongues,
Was once thought honest; you have loved him well;
He hath not touched you yet.
- Macbeth (Malcolm at IV, iii) [Tyrants]
With this there grows
In my most ill-compos'd affection such
A stanchless avarice that, were I King,
I should cut off the nobles for their lands,
Desire his jewels, and this other's house,
And my more-having would be as a sauce
To make me hunger more, that I should forge
Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal,
Destroying them for wealth.
- Macbeth (Malcolm at IV, iii)
[Avarice : Hunger]
Modest wisdom plucks me from over-credulous haste.
- Macbeth (Malcolm at IV,iii) [Haste]
Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier and afeard?
- Macbeth (Lady Macbeth at V, i) [Soldiers]
Foul whisp'rings are abroad.
- Macbeth (Doctor of Physic at V, i)
Here's the smell of the blood still. All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.
- Macbeth (Lady Macbeth at V, i) [Hand]
Do breed unnatural troubles. Infected minds
To their deaf pillow will discharge their secrets.
- Macbeth (Doctor of Physic at V, i) [Deeds]
What's done cannot be undone.
- Macbeth (Lady Macbeth at V, i)
[Action : Proverbs]
Those he commands move only in command,
Nothing in live. Now does he feel his title
Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe
Upon a dwarfish thief.
- Macbeth (Angus at V, ii) [Authority]
Bring me no more reports. Let them fly all!
- Macbeth (Macbeth at V, iii) [Journalism]
I have lived long enough. My way of life
Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf,
And that which should accompany old age,
As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends,
I must not look to have; but, in their stead,
Curses not loud but deep, mouth-honor, breath,
Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
- Macbeth (Macbeth at V, iii) [Age]
If thou couldst, doctor, cast
The water of my land, find her disease,
And purge it to a sound and pristine health,
I would applaud thee to the very echo,
That should applaud you again.
- Macbeth (Macbeth at V, iii) [Applause]
(Macbeth:) How does your patient, doctor?
(Doctor:) Not so sick, my lord,
As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies
That keep her from her rest.
(Macbeth:) Cure her of that!
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,
Pluck from the memory of a rooted sorrow,
Raze out the written troubles of the brain,
And with some sweet oblivious antidote
Cleanse the stuffed bosom of the perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart?
(Doctor:) Therein the patient
Must minister to himself.
(Macbeth:) Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it!
- Macbeth (Macbeth & Doctor at V, iii)
Blow wind, come wrack,
At least we'll die with harness on our back.
- Macbeth (Macbeth at V, v) [Soldiers : War]
Hang out our banners on the outward walls.
- Macbeth (Macbeth at V, v) [War]
I 'gin to be aweary of the sun,
And wish th' estate o' th' world were now undone.
- Macbeth (Macbeth at V, v) [Sun]
I pull in resolution, and begin
To doubt th' equivocation of the fiend,
That lies like truth.
- Macbeth (Macbeth at V, v) [Superstition]
It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
- Macbeth (Macbeth at V, v) [Life : Proverbs]
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.
- Macbeth (Macbeth at V, v) [Life]
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death.
- Macbeth (Macbeth at V, v)
[Proverbs : Tomorrow]
They have tied me to a stake. I cannot fly,
But bear-like I must fight the course.
- Macbeth (Macbeth at V, vii) [Despair]
And be these juggling fiends no more believed,
That palter with us in a double sense,
That keep the word of promise to our ear
And break it to our hope.
- Macbeth (Macbeth at V, viii) [Promises]
I bear a charmed life, which must not yield
To one of woman born.
- Macbeth (Macbeth at V, viii) [Life]
Lay on, Macduff,
And damned be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!'
- Macbeth (Macbeth at V, viii) [War]
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