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- Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden time,Ere human statute purged the gentle weal;Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'dToo terrible for the ear: the times have been,That, when the brains were out, the man would die,And there an end; but now they rise again,With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,And push us from our stools: this is more strangeThan such a murder is.
- My worthy lord,Your noble friends do lack you.
- I do forget.Do not muse at me, my most worthy friends,I have a strange infirmity, which is nothingTo those that know me. Come, love and health to all;Then I'll sit down. Give me some wine; fill full.I drink to the general joy o' the whole table,And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss;Would he were here! to all, and him, we thirst,And all to all.
- Avaunt! and quit my sight! let the earth hide thee!Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold;Thou hast no speculation in those eyesWhich thou dost glare with!What man dare, I dare:Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear,The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger;Take any shape but that, and my firm nervesShall never tremble: or be alive again,And dare me to the desert with thy sword;If trembling I inhabit then, protest meThe baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow!Unreal mockery, hence!
- You have displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting,With most admired disorder.
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