Updated: 6/15/2020
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  • The Prince of Cumberland! that is a step On which I must fall down, or else o’er-leap, For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires! Let not light see my black and deep desires: The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.
  • If I but died an hour before this chance, I had lived a blessed time; for from this instant There’s nothing serious in mortality All is but toys: renown and grace is dead.
  • We have scotched the snake, not killed it. She’ll close and be herself, while our poor malice Remains in danger of her former tooth.
  • Be comforted: Let’s make us med’cines of our great revenge, To cure this deadly grief.
  • The Thane of Fife had a wife; where is she now? What, will these hands ne’er be clean? No more o’that, my lord, no more o’that: you mar with all this starting.
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