Act II, Scene 3 Quotes — Macbeth

His silver skin lac’d with his golden blood; / And his gash’d stabs look’d like a breach in nature / For ruin’s wasteful entrance: there, the murderers, / Steep’d in the colours of their trade, their daggers / Unmannerly breech’d with gore.

Had I but died an hour before this chance, / I had liv’d a blessed time; for, from this instant / There’s nothing serious in mortality. / All is but toys: renown and grace is dead; / The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees / Is left this vault to brag of.

Where we are, / There’s daggers in men’s smiles: the near in blood, / The nearer bloody.

Confusion now hath made his masterpiece! / Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope / The Lord’s anointed temple, and stole thence / The life o’ th’ building.

Shake off this downy sleep, death’s counterfeit, / And look on death itself!

O horror, horror, horror! Tongue nor heart cannot conceive nor name thee!

If a man were porter of hell gate, he should have old turning the key.

The labour we delight in physics pain.

The night has been unruly: where we lay, / Our chimneys were blown down and, as they say, / Lamentings heard i’ th’ air, strange screams of death, / And prophesying, with accents terrible, / Of dire combustion and confus’d events, / New hatch’d to the woeful time.

To show an unfelt sorrow is an office / Which the false man does easy.