Macbeth

"Hang out our banners on the outward walls; The cry is still, They come. Our castle's strength Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie Till famine and the ague eat them up. Were they not forc'd with those that should be ours, We might have met them dareful, beard to beard, And beat them backward home."

"I have almost forgot the taste of fears; The time has been, my senses would have cool'd To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir As life were in't: I have supp'd full with horrors; Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts Cannot once start me."

"She should have died hereafter; There would have been time for such a word. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow 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. 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."

"Messenger: As I did stand my watch upon the hill, I looked toward Birnam, and anon methought The Wood began to move. Macbeth: Liar and slave!"

"I pull in resolution, and begin To doubt the equivocation of the fiend That lies like truth: 'Fear not, till Birnam wood Do come to Dunsinane:' and now a wood Comes toward Dunsinane. Arm, arm, and out! If this which he avouches does appear, There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here. I gin to be aweary of the sun, And wish the estate o' the world were now undone. Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack! At least we'll die with harness on our back."

"Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath, Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death."

"They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly, But, bear-like, I must fight the course"

"Why should I play the Roman fool, and die On mine own sword?"

"Macduff: Turn, hell-hound, turn! Macbeth:Of all men else I have avoided thee. But get thee back. My soul is too much charged With blood of thine already. Macduff: I have no words. My voice is in my sword. Thou bloodier villain Than terms can give thee out!"

"Macbeth: I bear a charmed life, which must not yield To one of woman born. Macduff: Despair thy charm; And let the angel whom thou still hast served Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother's womb Untimely ripp'd. Macbeth: Accursed be the tongue that tells me so, For it hath cow'd my better part of man! And be these juggling fiends no more believ'd, That palter with us in a double sense; That keep the word of promise to our ear, And break it to our hope."