Metaphor Quotes in Macbeth

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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!—

Two truths are told, / As happy prologues to the swelling act / Of the imperial theme.—

This supernatural soliciting / Cannot be ill; cannot be good. If ill, / Why hath it given me earnest of success, / Commencing in a truth? I am Thane of Cawdor: / If good, why do I yield to that suggestion / Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair, / And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, / Against the use of nature?

If you can look into the seeds of time, / And say which grain will grow, and which will not, / Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear / Your favours nor your hate.