In the great hand of God I stand; and thence / Against the undivulg’d pretence I fight / Of treasonous malice.

Lechery, sir, it provokes and unprovokes; it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance.

And Duncan’s horses (a thing most strange and certain) / Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race, / Turn’d wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out, / Contending ’gainst obedience, as they would make / War with mankind.

We have lost best half of our affair.

The west yet glimmers with some streaks of day. / Now spurs the lated traveller apace, / To gain the timely inn; and near approaches / The subject of our watch.

Strange things I have in head, that will to hand, / Which must be acted ere they may be scann’d.

Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak; / Augurs, and understood relations, have / By magot-pies, and choughs, and rooks, brought forth / The secret’st man of blood.—

If charnel houses and our graves must send / Those that we bury back, our monuments / Shall be the maws of kites.

I drink to the general joy o’ th’ whole table, / And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss: / Would he were here.

Safe in a ditch he bides, / With twenty trenched gashes on his head; / The least a death to nature.