ousing owl hawked at, and killed.

Act iii. Sc, 1.

Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown,
And put a barren scepter in my gripe,
Thence to be wrenched with an unlineal hand,
No son of mine succeeding.

Act iii. Sc. 1.

_Mur_. We are men, my liege.
_Mac_. Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

We have scotched the snake, not killed it.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

Duncan is in his grave!
After life's fitful fever he sleeps well.

Act iii. Sc. 4.

But now, I am cabined, cribbed, confined bound in
To saucy doubts and fears.

Act iii. Sc. 4.

Now good digestion wait on appetite,
And health on both!

Act iii. Sc. 4.

Thou canst not say, I did it: never shake
Thy gory locks at me.

Act iii. Sc. 4.

Thou hast no speculation in those eyes
Which thou dost glare with!

Act iii. Sc. 4.

What man dare, I dare.

Act iii. Sc. 4.

Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves
Shall never tremble.

Act iii. Sc. 4.

Stand not upon the order of your going,
But go at once.

Act iii. Sc. 4.

Can such things be,
And overcome us like a summer's cloud,
Without our special wonder?

Act iv. Sc. 1.

Black spirits and white,
Red spirits and gray,
Mingle, mingle, mingle,
You that mingle may.[2]

[Note 2: These lines occur also in "The Witch" of Thomas
Middleton, Act 5, Sc. 2, and it is uncertain to which the
priority should be ascribed.]

Act iv. Sc. 1.

By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.

Act iv. Sc. 1.

A deed without a name.

Act iv. Sc. 1.

I'll make assurance double sure,
And take a bond of fate.

Act iv. Sc. 1.

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

Act iv. Sc. 1.

What! will the line stretch out to the crack of doom?

Act iv. Sc. 1.
The flighty purpose never is o'ertook,
Unless the deed go with it.

Act iv. Sc. 3.

What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam,
At one fell swoop?

Act iv. Sc. 3.

I cannot but remember such things were,
That were most precious to me.

Act iv. Sc. 3.

O, I could play the woman with mine eyes,
And braggart with my tongue!

Act v. Sc. 3.

My way of life
Is fallen into the sear, 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, but dare