Macbeth Quotes Test

Bagenstose

What are these / so wither’d and so wild in their attire / that they look not like th’ inhabitance o’ th’ earth / and yet are on’t? Live you? Or are you aught / That man may question

Banquo

But tis stange / and oftentimes to win us to our harm / the instruments of darkness tell us truths / win us and honest trifles, to betray’s / in deepest consequences

Banquo

Theres no art / to find the minds construction in the face / He was a gentleman on whom i built / an absolute trust

Duncan

Stars hide your fires / let not light see my black and deep desires

Macbeth

Your face my thane is as a book where men / may read strange matters. To beguile the time / Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye / Your hand, your tongue look like th’ innocent flower / but be the serpent under’t

Lady Macbeth

I have no spur / To prick the sides of my intent, but only / vaulting ambition which o

erleaps itself, / And falls on th’ others

Macbeth

I would, while it was smiling in my face / Have pluck’d my nipple from him boneless gums / And dash’d the brains out had I sworn as you / Have done to this

Lady Macbeth

Is this a dagger which I see before me

Macbeth

These deeds must not be thought / After these ways; so, it will make us mad.

Lady Macbeth

Here smilers have knives beneath their cloaks

Donalbain

Thou hast it now: King, Cawdor, Glamis, all / As the weird women promis’d and i fear / thou play’d most foully for’t

Banquo

To be thus is nothing / But to be safely thus

Macbeth

Tis safer to be that which we destroy/ Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy

Lady Macbeth

The [ time ] has been / that when the brains were out, the man would due / And there an end; but now they rise again / With twenty moral murthers on their crowns / And push from out stools.

Macbeth

Bleed, bleed, poor country

Macduff

Out damn’d spot

Lady Macbeth

Unnatural deeds / Do breed unnatural troubles

Doctor

I’ll fight till from my bones my flesh be / hack’d

Macbeth

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

Macbeth

Macduff was from his mother’s womb untimely ripp’d

Macduff

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

Macbeth