More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Fair is foul, and foul is fair:
For it is thine. BANQUO [Aside.] What, can the devil speak true? MACBETH The thane of Cawdor lives: why do you dress me In borrow’d robes?
And hold thee to my heart. BANQUO There if I grow, The harvest is your own.
There’s daggers in men’s smiles: the near in blood, The nearer bloody. MALCOLM This murderous shaft that’s shot 325 Hath not yet lighted; and our safest way
I am one, my liege, Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world Have so incens’d, that I am reckless what I do to spite the world.
And I another, So weary with disasters, tugg’d with fortune, That I would set my life on any chance, To mend it, or be rid on’t. MACBETH Both of you 125 Know Banquo was your enemy. BOTH MURDERERS True, my lord.
It is concluded:—Banquo, thy soul’s flight, If it find heaven, must find it out to-night.
Then comes my fit again: I had else been perfect; Whole as the marble, founded as the rock; 25 As broad and general as the casing air: But now I am cabin’d, cribb’d, confin’d, bound in
Without our special wonder? You make me strange Even to the disposition that I owe, When now I think you can behold such sights, And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks, When mine are blanch’d with fear.
Thrice the brinded cat hath mew’d. SECOND WITCH Thrice; and once the hedge-pig whin’d. THIRD WITCH Harpy cries:—’tis time, ’tis time. FIRST WITCH Round about the caldron go; 5 In the poison’d entrails throw.— Toad, that under cold stone, Days and nights has thirty-one Swelter’d venom sleeping got, Boil thou first i’ the charmèd pot!
Double, double toil and trouble; Fire, burn; and, caldron, bubble.
Fillet of a fenny snake, In the caldron boil and bake; Eye of newt, and toe of frog, 15 Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting, Lizard’s leg, and howlet’s wing,— For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
SON 55 And must they all be hanged that swear and lie? LADY MACDUFF Every one. SON Who must hang them? LADY MACDUFF Why, the honest men. SON Then the liars and swearers are fools; for there are liars 60 and swearers enow to beat the honest men, and hang up them.
But Macbeth is. A good and virtuous nature may recoil In an imperial charge. But I shall crave your pardon; That which you are, my thoughts cannot transpose; 25 Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell:
