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

Act I, scene 5

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.

Act II, scene 3

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