Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

The seeds of Banquo kings!
Infirm of purpose.
[horse whinnies]
Towards which advance the war!
[bell tolls]
Welcome hither.
There would have been a time for such a word.
-Give me mine armor. -'Tis not needed yet.
the instruments of darkness tell us truths,
'Twas a rough night.
strong both against the deed.
Hie you to horse. Adieu, till you return at night.
raze out the written troubles of the brain
Make all our trumpets speak.
[witch 2] For a charm of powerful trouble,
How goes the world, sir, now?
I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal, for it must seem their guilt.
It is a peerless kinsman.
Thou marshal'st me the way that I was going.
Thither Macduff is gone to pray upon his aid.
[younger thane] Banquo. Banquo.
that they have done't?
To show an unfelt sorrow is an office which the false man does easy.
Is it far you ride?
Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed, the air is delicate.
Front to front bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself.
Please't Your Highness to grace us with your royal company.
Not so happy, yet much happier.
I stood and heard them.
[younger thane] Your father…
of sorriest fancies your companions making,
all. As the weird women promised.
She has spoke what she should not. I am sure of that.
Then the liars and swearers are fools,
[older thane] His absence, sir, lays blame upon his promise.
[thudding continues]
whether they live or die.
If you can look into the seeds of time
that might to half a soul and to a notion crazed say,
It will have blood. [sighs]
[witch 2] By the pricking of my thumbs,
Would they had stayed.
Uh, not so sick, my lord,
fell slaughter on their souls.
[Siward groans, pants]
something wicked this way comes.
This I made good to you in our last conference, passed in probation with you,
Beware the Thane of Fife.
Conduct me to mine host.
Fail not our feast.
[chuckles] Yes.
Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown,
Live you? Or are you aught that man may question?
Therein the patient must minister to himself.
but that myself should be the root and father of many kings.
We are yet but young in deed.
Tomorrow, as he purposes.
Aye, in the catalog ye go for men.
his two chamberlains will I with wine and wassail so convince
[bell tolls, distant]
scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day.
[Lady Macbeth] What's the business,
Malcolm! Banquo!
Only I have left to say, more is thy due than more than all can pay.
To beguile the time, look like the time.
[nurse] What a sigh is there.
If there come truth from them--
There's no art to find the mind's construction in the face.
-Give me mine armor! -[door opens]
under a hand accursed.
the ingredience of our poisoned chalice to our own lips.
having no witness to confirm my speech.
And our safest way is to avoid the aim.