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Tonight we hold a solemn supper,sir,And i'll request your presence
As far,my lord,as will fill up the timeTwixt this supper.Go not my horse the better, I must become a borrower of the nightFor a dark hour or twain.
Who wear our health but sickly in his life, which in his death were perfect
We have slashed the snake but not killed it. It will heal and be as good as new, and we'll be threatened by its fangs once again.
They can be killed, Its true.
What are you going to do?
O treachery! Fly good fleance,fly,fly,fly! Thou may'st revenge-O slave!
There's but one down.The son is fled.
Who did strike out the light?
I pray you,speak not. He grows worse and enrages him. At once,good night
If charnel houses and our graves must send Those that we bury back,our monuments. Shall be the maws of kites.
How did you dare to trade and traffic with Macbeth In riddles and affairs of death,and i, the mistress of your charms,the close contrive of all harms, was never called to bear my part.
His message ere he come, that a swift blessing May soon return to this our suffering country under a hand accursed!
I'll send my prayers with him
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