Society and the World

His legs bestrid the ocean; his rear’d arm Crested the world; his voice was propertied As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends; But when he meant to quail and shake the orb, He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty, There was no winter in ’t, an autumn ’twas That grew the more by reaping; his delights Were dolphin-like, they show’d his back above The element they liv’d in; in his livery Walk’d crowns and crownets, realms and islands were As plates dropp’d from his pocket.

To business that we love we rise betime, And go to ’t with delight.

Men’s judgments are A parcel of their fortunes, and things outward Do draw the inward quality after them, To suffer all alike.

I have not kept my square, but that to come Shall all be done by the rule.

I will to Egypt And though I make this marriage for my peace, I’ the East my pleasure lies.

No worse a husband than the best of men.

Good now, play one scene Of excellent dissembling, and let it look Like perfect honor.

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

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

To show an unfelt sorrow is an office Which the false man does easy.

Away, and mock the time with fairest show: False face must hide what the false heart doth know.

This even-handed justice.

Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under ’t.

The raven himself is hoarse That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan Under my battlements. Come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts! unsex me here, And fill me from the crown to the toe top full Of direst cruelty; make thick my blood, Stop up the access and passage to remorse, That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between The effect and it! Come to my woman’s breasts, And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers.

Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be What thou art promis’d. Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o’ the milk of human kindness 49 To catch the nearest way.

If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me, Without my stir.

And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths, Win us with honest trifles, to betray ’s In deepest consequence.

Banners flout the sky.

First Witch: When shall we three meet again In thunder, lightning, or in rain? Second Witch: When the hurlyburly’s done, When the battle’s lost and won.

Life’s uncertain voyage.

’Tis not enough to help the feeble up, But to support him after.

Her voice was ever soft, Gentle and low, an excellent thing in woman.

The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices Make instruments to plague us.

The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices Make instruments to plague us.