Emotions and Feelings

Give me to drink mandragora…. That I might sleep out this great gap of time My Antony is away.

There’s beggary in the love that can be reckon’d.

Lay on, Macduff, And damn’d be him that first cries, “Hold, enough!”

I bear a charmed life.

Blow, wind! come, wrack! At least we’ll die with harness on our back.

I ’gin to be aweary of the sun, And wish the estate o’ the world were now undone.

My fell of hair Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir As life were in ’t. I have supp’d full with horrors.

My fell of hair Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir As life were in ’t. I have supp’d full with horrors.

Hang out our banners on the outward walls; The cry is still, “They come”; our castle’s strength Will laugh a siege to scorn.

Macbeth: Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas’d, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain, And with some sweet oblivious antidote Cleanse the stuff’d bosom of that perilous stuff Which weighs upon the heart? Doctor: Therein the patient Must minister to himself. Macbeth: Throw physic to the dogs; I’ll none of it.

Thou lily-liver’d boy.

I have liv’d long enough: my way of life Is fall’n into the sere, the yellow leaf; And that which should accompany old age, As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honor, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.

Those he commands move only in command, Nothing in love; now does he feel his title Hang loose about him, like a giant’s robe Upon a dwarfish thief.

The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac’d loon! Where gott’st thou that goose look?

The devil damn thee black, thou cream-fac’d loon! Where gott’st thou that goose look?

Malcolm: Dispute it like a man. Macduff: I shall do so; But I must also feel it as a man: I cannot but remember such things were, That were most precious to me.

All my pretty ones? Did you say all? O hell-kite! All? What! all my pretty chickens and their dam At one fell swoop?

Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, Uproar the universal peace, confound All unity on earth.

Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak Whispers the o’er-fraught heart and bids it break.

Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak Whispers the o’er-fraught heart and bids it break.

When our actions do not, Our fears do make us traitors.

Show his eyes, and grieve his heart; Come like shadows, so depart.

Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn The power of man, for none of woman born Shall harm Macbeth.

I am in blood Stepp’d in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o’er.