More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Out, damned spot! out, I say!— One; two; why, then ’tis time to do’t.—Hell is murky! Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account?—Yet who 35 would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?
Here’s the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.
what’s done cannot be undone: