Macbeth Quotes

He has no children.—All my pretty ones? / Did you say all?—O hell-kite!—All? / What, all my pretty chickens and their dam / At one fell swoop?

Alas, poor country, / Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot / Be call’d our mother, but our grave,

Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak / Whispers the o’er-fraught heart, and bids it break.

Bleed, bleed, poor country! / Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure, / For goodness dare not check thee!

I bear a charmed life, which must not yield / To one of woman born.

Despair thy charm; / And let the angel whom thou still hast serv’d / Tell thee, Macduff was from his mother’s womb / Untimely ripp’d.

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!

The labour we delight in physics pain.