Metaphor Quotes in Macbeth

Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, / Uproar the universal peace, confound / All unity on earth.

Boundless intemperance / In nature is a tyranny;

Meet we the med'cine of the sickly weal; / And with him pour we, in our country's purge, / Each drop of us.

The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac'd loon! Where gott'st thou that goose look?

Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it.

’Tis his main hope; / For where there is advantage to be given, / Both more and less have given him the revolt, / And none serve with him but constrained things, / Whose hearts are absent too.

Of all men else I have avoided thee: / But get thee back; my soul is too much charg’d / With blood of thine already.

If he had been forgotten, / It had been as a gap in our great feast, / And all-thing unbecoming.