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  • The smell of the blood’s still here. All the perfumes in Arabia could not make my hands smell sweet. Oh, oh, oh!
  • What a sigh! Her heart is seriously troubled.
  • I wouldn’t want to have a heart like that, even if it meant I could be a queen.
  • Don’t bring me any more reports. Let all my men run away. Until Birnam Wood comes to the castle, I don’t have anything to be afraid of. Who cares about Malcolm? Didn’t a woman give birth to him? The spirits who know the future told me this: “Don’t be afraid, Macbeth. No man who was born from a woman shall ever be able to defeat you.” So run away, you disloyal lords, run away to the effeminate Englishmen! My mind and heart are forever free from doubt and fear
  • If you’re lying, I’ll hang you from the nearest tree until you die of hunger. If you’re telling the truth, I don’t care if you do the same to me. I’m losing my confidence and beginning to doubt the double-talking of those devils whose lies sounded like truth. “Don’t be afraid, until Birnam forest comes to Dunsinane.” – yet now a forest comes towards Dunsinane! Get your weapons and let’s go out to fight! If what he says is true, there won’t be any escape or waiting it out here. I’m getting weary with life and wish all this could just be undone. Ring the alarm bell! Blow, wind. Come, ruin! At least I’ll go down fighting.
  • The noise is coming from that way. Tyrant, show your face! If you’ve been killed by someone else, the ghosts of my wife and children will haunt me forever. I will not fight these wretched peasants you’ve hired to take up arms for you. I will either kill you, Macbeth, or put my sword back in its sheath unused. You’re probably over there, judging by the clatter of battle which announces the presence of someone important. Luck, all I ask is to find him!
  • Don’t trust that magic! Let the fallen angel you have always served tell you that I, Macduff, was not of woman born – I was prematurely ripped from my mother’s womb.
  • You’re wasting your energy. You’d have an easier time making the air bleed than me. Use your sword against vulnerable heads. I have a charmed life, which can’t be defeated by anyone born from a woman.
  • I won’t wait long before I pay you back for the devoted services you have rendered me. My nobles and kin, from now on you shall be earls, the first ever to be named to this high title in Scotland. Everything else which needs to be done to establish my government we will, with the grace of God, perform in the correct manner, time, and place. We will invite back our exiled friends who fled from intrusive tyranny abroad, and we’ll arrest the cruel collaborators of this dead butcher and his devilish queen (who I heard killed herself). So thanks to each and every one of you, whom I invite to see me crowned at Scone.
  • Greetings, king! For you are now the king. Here’s Macbeth’s cursed head; we are free. I see you surrounded by nobles who share my thankful thoughts, and I ask them to join their voices to mine – Hail, King of Scotland!
  • Hail, King of Scotland!
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