Macbeth

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  • 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! Make thick my blood; Stop up the access and passage to remorse,
  • That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark To cry "Hold, hold!"
  • All our servants In every point tlvice done, and then done double,Were poor and single business to contend Against those honors deep and broad wherewith your majesty loads our house.
  • Your servants ever Have theirs. themselves, and what is theirs, in compt, To make their audit at your Highness' pleasure, Still to return your own.
  • Was the hope drunk Wherein you dressed yourself? Hath it slept since' And wakes it now to look so green and pale At what it did so freely'
  • Does unmake you. 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 plucked my nipple from his boneless gums And dashed the brains out, had I so sworn as you Have done to this.
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