Fair is foul, and foul is fair: / Hover through the fog and filthy air.

Act I, Scene 1 · The Three Witches

What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath won.

Act I, Scene 2 · Duncan

For brave Macbeth (well he deserves that name), / Disdaining Fortune, with his brandish’d steel, / Which smok’d with bloody execution, / Like Valour’s minion, carv’d out his passage, / Till he fac’d the slave; / Which ne’er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him, / Till he unseam’d him from the nave to the chops, / And fix’d his head upon our battlements.

Act I, Scene 2

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, / Shakes so my single state of man / That function is smother’d in surmise, / And nothing is but what is not.

Act I, Scene 3 · Macbeth

And oftentimes to win us to our harm, / The instruments of darkness tell us truths; / Win us with honest trifles, to betray’s / In deepest consequence.—

Act I, Scene 3 · Banquo

So foul and fair a day I have not seen.

Act I, Scene 3 · Macbeth

All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Glamis! SECOND WITCH. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor! THIRD WITCH. All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king hereafter!

Act I, Scene 3 · The Three Witches

Stars, hide your fires! / Let not light see my black and deep desires. / The eye wink at the hand, yet let that be, / Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.

Act I, Scene 4 · Macbeth

There’s no art / To find the mind’s construction in the face: / He was a gentleman on whom I built / An absolute trust.

Act I, Scene 4 · Duncan

look like the innocent flower, / But be the serpent under’t.

Act I, Scene 5 · Lady Macbeth

Come, you spirits / That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, / And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full / Of direst cruelty!

Act I, Scene 5 · Lady Macbeth

Come, thick night, / And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell / That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, / Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark / To cry, “Hold, hold!”

Act I, Scene 5 · Lady Macbeth

Yet do I fear thy nature; / It is too full o’ th’ milk of human kindness / To catch the nearest way.

Act I, Scene 5 · Lady Macbeth

This castle hath a pleasant seat. The air / Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself / Unto our gentle senses.

Act I, Scene 6 · Duncan

But screw your courage to the sticking-place, / And we’ll not fail.

Act I, Scene 7 · Lady Macbeth

I have no spur / To prick the sides of my intent, but only / Vaulting ambition, which o’erleaps itself / And falls on th’ other—

Act I, Scene 7 · Macbeth

If it were done when ’tis done, then ’twere well / It were done quickly.

Act I, Scene 7 · Macbeth

I have given suck, and know / How tender ’tis to love the babe that milks me: / I would, while it was smiling in my face, / Have pluck’d my nipple from his boneless gums / And dash’d the brains out, had I so sworn as you / Have done to this.

Act I, Scene 7 · Lady Macbeth

I go, and it is done. The bell invites me. / Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knell / That summons thee to heaven or to hell.

Act II, Scene 1 · Macbeth

Is this a dagger which I see before me, / The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee:— / I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.

Act II, Scene 1 · Macbeth

Methought I heard a voice cry, “Sleep no more! / Macbeth does murder sleep,”—the innocent sleep; / Sleep that knits up the ravell’d sleave of care, / The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath, / Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course, / Chief nourisher in life’s feast.

Act II, Scene 2 · Macbeth

Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood / Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather / The multitudinous seas incarnadine, / Making the green one red.

Act II, Scene 2 · 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.

Act II, Scene 3 · Macbeth

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.

Act II, Scene 3 · Macbeth

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

Act II, Scene 3

To be thus is nothing, / But to be safely thus.

Act III, Scene 1 · Macbeth

Upon my head they plac’d a fruitless crown, / And put a barren sceptre in my gripe, / Thence to be wrench’d with an unlineal hand, / No son of mine succeeding.

Act III, Scene 1 · Macbeth

Naught’s had, all’s spent, / Where our desire is got without content: / ’Tis safer to be that which we destroy, / Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.

Act III, Scene 2 · Lady Macbeth

O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife!

Act III, Scene 2 · Macbeth

Things without all remedy / Should be without regard: what’s done is done.

Act III, Scene 2 · Lady Macbeth

It will have blood, they say, blood will have blood.

Act III, Scene 4 · Macbeth

I am in blood / Stepp’d in so far that, should I wade no more, / Returning were as tedious as go o’er.

Act III, Scene 4 · Macbeth

He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear / His hopes ’bove wisdom, grace, and fear. / And you all know, security / Is mortals’ chiefest enemy.

Act III, Scene 5

Be bloody, bold, and resolute. Laugh to scorn / The power of man, for none of woman born / Shall harm Macbeth.

Act IV, Scene 1 · The Three Witches

By the pricking of my thumbs, / Something wicked this way comes.

Act IV, Scene 1 · The Three Witches

Be lion-mettled, proud, and take no care / Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are: / Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be, until / Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill / Shall come against him.

Act IV, Scene 1 · The Three Witches

Double, double, toil and trouble; / Fire, burn; and cauldron, bubble.

Act IV, Scene 1 · The Three Witches

I am in this earthly world, where to do harm / Is often laudable; to do good sometime / Accounted dangerous folly

Act IV, Scene 2 · Lady Macduff

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?

Act IV, Scene 3 · Macduff

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

Act IV, Scene 3

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

Act IV, Scene 3 · Malcolm

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

Act IV, Scene 3 · Macduff

What's done cannot be undone.

Act V, Scene 1 · Lady Macbeth

Out, damned spot! out, I say! One; two. Why, then 'tis time to do't. Hell is murky! Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account? Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?

Act V, Scene 1 · Lady Macbeth

Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.

Act V, Scene 1 · Lady Macbeth

Now does he feel / His secret murders sticking on his hands; / Now minutely revolts upbraid his faith-breach; / Those he commands move only in command, / Nothing in love: now does he feel his title / Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe / Upon a dwarfish thief.

Act V, Scene 2

I have liv’d long enough: my way of life / Is fall’n into the sere, the yellow leaf; / And that which should accompany old age, / As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, / I must not look to have; but, in their stead, / Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, / Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.

Act V, Scene 3 · Macbeth

Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas’d, / Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, / Raze out the written troubles of the brain, / And with some sweet oblivious antidote / Cleanse the stuff’d bosom of that perilous stuff / Which weighs upon the heart?

Act V, Scene 3 · Macbeth

Let every soldier hew him down a bough, / And bear’t before him. Thereby shall we shadow / The numbers of our host, and make discovery / Err in report of us.

Act V, Scene 4 · Malcolm

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.

Act V, Scene 5 · Macbeth

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

Act V, Scene 8 · Macbeth

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!—

Act V, Scene 8 · Macbeth

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.

Act V, Scene 8 · Macduff