Kreycik Macbeth Quiz

When shall we three meet againIn thunder, lightning, or in rain?
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Doubtful it stood;As two spent swimmers, that do cling togetherAnd choke their art. The merciless Macdonwald--Worthy to be a rebel, for to thatThe multiplying villanies of natureDo swarm upon him--from the western islesOf kerns and gallowglasses is supplied;And fortune, on his quarrel smiling,Show'd like a rebel's : but all's too weak:For brave Macbeth--well he deserves that name--Disdaining fortune, with his brandish'd steel,Which smoked with bloody execution,Like valour's minion carved out his passageTill he faced the slave;Which ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to him,Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps,And fix'd his head upon our battlements.
Where the Norweyan banners flout the skyAnd fan our people cold. Norway himself,With terrible numbers,Assisted by that most disloyal traitorThe thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict;Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapp'd in proof,Confronted him with self-comparisons,Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm.Curbing his lavish spirit: and, to conclude,The victory fell on us.
What are theseSo wither'd and so wild in their attire,That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth,And yet are on't? Live you? or are you aughtThat man may question? should be women,And yet your beards forbid me to interpretThat you are so.Banquo to MacbethAll hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Glamis!Firsy Witch to MacbethAll hail, Macbeth, hail to thee, thane of Cawdor!Second WitchAll hail, Macbeth, thou shalt be king hereafter!Third WitchGood sir, why do you start; and seem to fear Things that do sound so fair? I' the name of truth, Are ye fantastical, or that indeed Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner You greet with present grace and great prediction Of noble having and of royal hope, That he seems rapt withal: to me you speak not. If you can look into the seeds of time And say which grain will grow and which will not, Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear your favours nor your hate.Banquo to MacbethLesser than Macbeth, and greater.First WitchThou shalt get kings, though thou be none:Third WitchWere such things here as we do speak about?Or have we eaten on the insane rootThat takes the reason prisoner?Banquo to MacbethThe king hath happily received, Macbeth,The news of thy success;Ross to MacbethAnd, for an earnest of a greater honour,He bade me, from him, call thee thane of Cawdor:In which addition, hail, most worthy thane!Ross to MacbethThe thane of Cawdor lives: why do you dress meIn borrow'd robes?Macbeth to RossWho was the thane lives yet;But under heavy judgment bears that lifeWhich he deserves to lose. Whether he was combinedWith those of Norway, or did line the rebelWith hidden help and vantage, or that with bothHe labour'd in his country's wreck, I know not;But treasons capital, confess'd and proved,Have overthrown him.Angus to MacbethDo you not hope your children shall be kings,When those that gave the thane of Cawdor to mePromised no less to them?Macbeth to BanquoThat trusted home might yet enkindle you unto the crown, besides the Thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange: and oftentimes to win us to our harm, the instruments of darkness tell us truths, win us with honest trifles to betray us in deepest consequence.Banquo to Macbeth[Aside] If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me,Without my stir.MacbethIs execution done on Cawdor? Are notThose in commission yet return'd?King to MalcolmBut I have spokeWith one that saw him die: who did reportThat very frankly he confess'd his treasons,Implored your highness' pardon and set forthA deep repentance: nothing in his lifeBecame him like the leaving it; he diedAs one that had been studied in his deathTo throw away the dearest thing he owed,As 'twere a careless trifle.Malcolm to KingThere's no art to find the mind's construction in the face. He was a gentleman on whom I'd built an absolute trust .King to MalcomMore is thy due than more than all can pay.King to MacbethThe service and the loyalty I owe,In doing it, pays itself.Macbeth to KingI have begun to plant thee, and will labourTo make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo,That hast no less deserved, nor must be knownNo less to have done so, let me enfold theeAnd hold thee to my heart.King to Banquo and MacbethWe will establish our estate uponOur eldest, Malcolm, whom we name hereafterThe Prince of Cumberland; which honour mustNot unaccompanied invest him only,But signs of nobleness, like stars, shall shineOn all deservers. From hence to Inverness,And bind us further to you.King to MacbethThe Prince of Cumberland! That is a step on which I must fall down or o'erleap, for in my way it lies! Stars, hide your fires, let not light see my black and deep desires: the eye wink at the hand, yet let that be, which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.The Prince of Cumberland! That is a step on which I must fall down or o'erleap, for in my way it lies! Stars, hide your fires, let not light see my black and deep desires: the eye wink at the hand, yet let that be, which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.'They met me in the day of success: and I havelearned by the perfectest report, they have more inthem than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desireto question them further, they made themselves air,into which they vanished. Whiles I stood rapt inthe wonder of it, came missives from the king, whoall-hailed me 'Thane of Cawdor;' by which title,before, these weird sisters saluted me, and referredme to the coming on of time, with 'Hail, king thatshalt be!' This have I thought good to deliverthee, my dearest partner of greatness, that thoumightst not lose the dues of rejoicing, by beingignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay itto thy heart, and farewell.'Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt beWhat thou art promised: yet do I fear thy nature;It is too full o' the milk of human kindnessTo catch the nearest way: thou wouldst be great;Art not without ambition, but withoutThe illness should attend it: what thou wouldst highly,That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false,And yet wouldst wrongly win: thou'ldst have, great Glamis,That which cries 'Thus thou must do, if thou have it;And that which rather thou dost fear to doThan wishest should be undone.' Hie thee hither,That I may pour my spirits in thine ear;And chastise with the valour of my tongueAll that impedes thee from the golden round,Lady MacbethThe raven himself is hoarseThat croaks the fatal entrance of DuncanUnder my battlements. Come, you spiritsThat tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,And fill me from the crown to the toe top-fullOf direst cruelty! make thick my blood;Stop up the access and passage to remorse,That no compunctious visitings of natureShake my fell purpose, nor keep peace betweenThe effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts,And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers,Wherever in your sightless substancesYou wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night,And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell,That my keen knife see not the wound it makes,Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,To cry 'Hold, hold!'Lady MacbethMy dearest love,Duncan comes here to-night.Macbeth to LadyAnd when goes hence?Lady to MacbethTo-morrow, as he purposes.Macbeth to LadyO, neverShall sun that morrow see!Your face, my thane, is as a book where menMay read strange matters. To beguile the time,Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower,But be the serpent under't. He that's comingMust be provided for: and you shall putThis night's great business into my dispatch;Lady to MThis guest of summer,The temple-haunting martlet, does approve,By his loved mansionry, that the heaven's breathSmells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze,Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this birdHath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle:Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed,The air is delicate.BanquoAll our serviceIn every point twice done and then done doubleWere poor and single business to contendAgainst those honours deep and broad wherewithYour majesty loads our house:LDYGive me your hand;Conduct me to mine host: we love him highly,And shall continue our graces towards him.DuncanIf it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere wellIt were done quickly: if the assassinationCould trammel up the consequence, and catchWith his surcease success; that but this blowMight be the be-all and the end-all here,But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,We'ld jump the life to come. But in these casesWe still have judgment here; that we but teachBloody instructions, which, being taught, returnTo plague the inventor: this even-handed justiceCommends the ingredients of our poison'd chaliceTo our own lips. He's here in double trust;First, as I am his kinsman and his subject,Strong both against the deed; then, as his host,Who should against his murderer shut the door,Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this DuncanHath borne his faculties so meek, hath beenSo clear in his great office, that his virtuesWill plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, againstThe deep damnation of his taking-off;And pity, like a naked new-born babe,Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, horsedUpon the sightless couriers of the air,Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,MacbethWe will proceed no further in this business. He hath honoured me of late, and I have bought golden opinions from all sorts of people, which would be worn now in their newest gloss, not cast aside so soon.MacbethWas the hope drink wherein you dressed yourself? Hath it slept since? And wakes it now to look so green and pale at what it did so freely? From this time such I account thy love!LadyPrithee, peace:I dare do all that may become a man;Who dares do more is none.MacbethWhat beast was't, then,That made you break this enterprise to me?When you durst do it, then you were a man;And, to be more than what you were, you wouldBe so much more the man. Nor time nor placeDid then adhere, and yet you would make both:They have made themselves, and that their fitness nowDoes unmake you. I have given suck, and knowHow tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me:I would, while it was smiling in my face,Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums,And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as youHave done to this.LadyWhen Duncan is asleep--Whereto the rather shall his day's hard journeySoundly invite him--his two chamberlainsWill I with wine and wassail so convinceThat memory, the warder of the brain,Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reasonA limbeck only: when in swinish sleepTheir drenched natures lie as in a death,What cannot you and I perform uponThe unguarded Duncan? what not put uponLadyBring forth men-children only; for thy undaunted mettle should compose nothing but malesMacbeth