Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under’t.
Act I, scene 5
I have no spur to prick the sides of my intent, but only vaulting ambition,
Act I, scene 7
Yet do I fear thy nature. It is too full o’ th’ milk of human kindness
Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood clean from my hand?
Act II, scene 3
Here lay Duncan, his silver skin laced with his golden blood, and his gashed stabs looked like a breach in nature for ruin’s wasteful entrance.
But now I am cabined, cribbed, confined, bound in to saucy doubts and fears.
Act III scene 4
O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife!
Act III, scene 2
I think our country sinks beneath the yoke. It weeps, it bleeds, and each new day a gash is added to her wounds.
Act IV, scene 3
Out, out, brief candle. Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
Act V, scene 5
I bear a charmèd life
Act V, scene 8
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