[Macbeth castle, near the bedrooms. Enter Lady Macbeth] Lady Macbeth That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold; What hath quenched them hath given me fire. Hark, peace. Read more about popup_note_index_item 577
[Macbeth castle, near the bedrooms. Enter Lady Macbeth] Lady Macbeth That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold; What hath quenched them hath given me fire. Hark, peace. It was the owl that shrieked, the fatal bellman, Which gives the stern'st good-night. He is about it. Read more about popup_note_index_item 578
Lady Macbeth Who was it that thus cried? Why, worthy thane, You do unbend your noble strength, to think So brain-sickly of things. Go get some water, And wash this filthy witness from your hand. Read more about popup_note_index_item 579
Lady Macbeth Give me the daggers. The sleeping and the dead Are but as pictures; 'tis the eye of childhood That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal, For it must seem their guilt. Read more about popup_note_index_item 580
Macbeth Whence is that knocking? How is't with me, when every noise appalls me? What hands are here? Ha, they pluck out mine eyes. 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. Read more about popup_note_index_item 581
Sergeant Doubtful it stood, As two spent swimmers that do cling together And choke their art. The merciless Macdonald — Read more about popup_note_index_item 559
Sergeant The multiplying villainies of nature Do swarm upon him — from the Western Isles, Of kerns and gallowglasses is supplied. Read more about popup_note_index_item 560
Sergeant And Fortune, on his damnèd quarry smiling, Showed like a rebel's whore. But all's too weak, Read more about Act 1, Scene 2: Popup Note Index Item: "quarry"
Sergeant As whence the sun 'gins his reflection, Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders break, So from that spring, whence comfort seemed to come, Discomfort swells. Mark, king of Scotland, mark. Read more about popup_note_index_item 562
Ross The Thane of Cawdor, began a dismal conflict, Till that Bellona's bridegroom, lapped 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 — Read more about popup_note_index_item 563