If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me.
Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself And falls on the other side
The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand.
Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o' the milk of human kindness.
That but this blow Might 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.
Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow.
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.
When our actions do not, our fears make us traitors.
The instruments of darkness tell us truths.
It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury; signifying nothing.
All's well that ends well.
Out, damned spot! out, I say! One: two: why, then 'tis time to do't. Hell is murky!
If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die.
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
Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I am in blood Stepp'd in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er.
Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble!
Fair is foul, and foul is fair, hover through fog and filthy air.
Or art thou but / A dagger of the mind, a false creation, / Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.
Out, damned spot! Out, I say!
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, / I must not look to have; but, in their stead, / Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, / Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not" (5.3.25-28).
Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.
My hands are of your color, but I shame to wear a heart so white.
A little water clears us of this deed.
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