All his faults observed,

Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote.

There is a tide in the affairs of men

Julius Cæsar. Act iv. Sc. 3.

Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life

Is bound in shallows and in miseries.

Ibid.

We must take the current when it serves,

Or lose our ventures.

Ibid.

The deep of night is crept upon our talk,
And nature must obey necessity.

Brutus. Then I shall see thee again?
Ghost. Ay, at Philippi.

Brutus. Why, I will see thee at Philippi, then.
But for your words, they rob the Hybla bees,
And leave them honeyless.

Forever, and forever, farewell, Cassius!
If we do meet again, why, we shall smile;
If not, why then this parting was well made.

O, that a man might know

The end of this day's business ere it come!

The last of all the Romans, fare thee well!

This

was the noblest Roman of them all.

His life was gentle, and the elements

So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up

And

say

to all the world, "This was a man!"

1 W. When shall we three meet again In thunder, lightning, or in rain? 2 W. When the hurlyburly 's done,

When the battle 's lost and won.

Fair is foul, and foul is fair.
Banners flout the sky.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Act v. Sc. 1.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Sc. 3.

Sc. 5.

Ibid.

Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 1.
Ibid

Sc. 2

Sleep shall neither night nor day

Hang upon his pent-house lid.

Dwindle, peak, and pine.

What are these

So wither'd and so wild in their attire,

Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 3.

Ibid.

That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth,
And yet are on 't?

If you can look into the seeds of time,

And say which grain will grow and which will not.

And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,

The instruments of darkness tell us truths,
Win us with honest trifles, to betray's

Against the use of nature. Present fears
Are less than horrible imaginings.

And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,

Ibid.

Nothing is

But what is not.

Ibid.

If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me.

Come what come may,

Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Nothing in his life

Became him like the leaving it; he died
As one that had been studied in his death
To throw away the dearest thing he owed,
As 't were a careless trifle.

There's no art

Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 4.

To find the mind's construction in the face.

More is thy due than more than all can pay.

Yet do I fear thy nature;

It is too full o' the milk of human kindness.

What thou wouldst highly,

That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false,
And yet wouldst wrongly win.

Shake my fell purpose.

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,

Ibid.

Ibid.

Sc. 5.

Ibia.

Ibid.

Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower,
But be the serpent under 't.

Which shall to all our nights and days to come
Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.

Ibid.

Ibid.

This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air

Sc. 6.

Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself

Unto

our gentle senses.

The heaven's breath

Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze,
Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird

Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle:
Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed,
The air is delicate.

If it were done when 't is done, then 't were well
It were done quickly: if the assassination

Could trammel up the consequence, and catch

Ibid

1

But in these cases

With his surcease success; 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.
We still have judgment here; that we but teach
Bloody instructions, which being taught, return
To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice
Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice
To our own lips.

Macbeth. Act i. Sc. 7.

Besides, this Duncan.

Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been
So clear in his great office, that his virtues
Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against
The deep damnation of his taking-off;

And pity, like a naked new-born babe,

Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, horsed
Upon the sightless couriers of the air,
Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,

That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur
To prick the sides of my intent, but only
Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself,
And falls on the other.

Ibid

I have bought

Golden opinions from all sorts of people.

Ibid.

Letting "I dare not " wait upon "I would,"

But screw your courage to the sticking-place,

And we 'll not fail.

Ibid.

1 See Heywood, page 14.

Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going.

Ibid.

Now o'er the one half-world

Nature seems dead.

Ibid.

Thou sure and firm-set earth,

Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
Thy very stones prate of my whereabout.

Ibid.

Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell

The bell invites me.

That summons thee to heaven or to hell.

It was the owl that shriek'd, the fatal bellman,
Which gives the stern'st good-night.

Confounds us.

The attempt and not the deed

I had most need of blessing, and "Amen"

Methought I heard a voice cry, "Sleep no more!
Macbeth does murder sleep!" the innocent sleep,
Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care,

1 Act ii. sc. 1 in Dyce, Staunton, and White.

Ibid.

Sc. 2.1

Ibid.1

Ibid.