When the hurly-burly’s done, when the battle's lost and won.
That will be ere the set of sun.
When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or rain?
No more that thane of Cawdor shall deceive our bosom interest: go pronounce his present death, and with his former title greet Macbeth
I'll see it done.
You shall be king.
Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more.
ALL HAIL, MACBETH!
The prince of Cumberland! That is a step on which I must fall down, or else o'erleap, for in my way it lies
True, worthy Banquo. He is full so valiant---let's after him, whose care is gone before to bid us welcome: it is a peerless kinsman.
It is too full o'th' milk of human kindness to catch the nearest way: thou wouldst be great, art not without ambition, but without the illness should attend it.
--came missives from the king, who all-hailed me 'Thane of Cawdor,'
The king comes here tonight.
Was the hope drunk wherein you dressed yourself?
Prithee, peace: I dare do all that may become a man; who dares do more is none.