Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

[chuckling] There's no such thing.
Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses,
the victory fell to us.
How sayest thou, that Macduff denies his person at our great bidding?
Glamis and Thane of Cawdor.
The fit is momentary. Upon a thought he will again be well.
There the grown serpent lies.
Whether he was combined with those of Norway,
and with some sweet oblivious antidote cleanse the stuffed bosom
making the green one red.
[breathing heavily]
I take it, 'tis later, sir.
You lack the season of all natures, sleep.
as honor, love, obedience, troops of friends,
he hath a wisdom that guide his valor to act in safety.
Thou wast born of woman.
Hail to thee, Thane of Glamis.
I'll put it on. Send out more horses.
-There's blood upon thy face. -'Tis Banquo's then.
-[Lady Macbeth] What, in our house? -Too cruel anywhere.
[witch 3] Liver of blaspheming Jew,
Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution, thanks.
The English force, so please you.
Yet do I fear thy nature.
and new supplies of men began a fresh assault.
the fatal bellman, which gives the stern'st good night.
[witch 1] He will not be commanded.
-My husband. -[sighs]
Even till destruction sicken, answer me to what I ask you.
nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark to cry, "Hold. Hold."
Worthy Macduff and we shall take upon's what else remains to do.
A kind good night to all.
But screw your courage to the sticking-place, and we'll not fail.
This push will cheer me ever, or disseat me now.
[people screaming]
How say'st thou, that Macduff denies his person at our great bidding?
Hail, King of Scotland!
We coursed him at the heels, and had a purpose to be his purveyor.
Who was the thane lives yet,
To alter favor ever is to fear.
"Fear not, till Birnam Wood do come to Dunsinane."
Great happiness. [chuckles]
It cannot be called our mother, but our grave,
[Macduff] Let us rather hold fast the mortal sword,
[Macbeth laughs]
[gasps] Yet here's a spot.
I know I am Thane of Glamis, but how of Cawdor?
One cried, "God bless us,"
[sighs] Alas, poor country.
does approve, by his loved mansionry,
Bear welcome in your eye, your hand, your tongue.
She should have died hereafter.
My ever-gentle cousin.
was by a mousing owl hawked at and killed.
[older thane] Only, I say, things have been strangely borne.
by being ignorant of what greatness is promised thee.
and bend up each corporal agent to this terrible feat.
No more o' that, my lord, no more of that.
I hope, in no place so unsanctified where such as thou mayst find him.
The devil himself could not pronounce a title more hateful to mine ear.
And thence it is that I to your assistance do make love,
I have no words.
Good things of day begin to droop and drowse,
Goes Fleance with you?
Why, well.
Norway himself, with terrible numbers, assisted by that most disloyal traitor,
-chief nourisher in life's feast. -What do you mean?
Who did bid thee join with us?
Do we but find the tyrant's power tonight,
with his drowsy hums hath rung night's yawning peal,
Banquo and Macbeth.
And when we have our naked frailties hid, which suffer in exposure,
[woman] The king comes here tonight.
by that which you profess, howe'er you come to know it, answer me.
O, but this place is too cold for hell.
[horses whinny]
[chuckles]
To bed.
proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
And chastise with the valor of my tongue
who did report that very frankly he confessed his treasons,
But, gentle heavens, cut short all intermission.
Hail, brave friend.
[witch] Finger of birth-strangled babe,
As sparrows eagles, or the hare the lion.
I dare do all that may become a man. Who dares do more is none.
What's to be done?
to make them kings!
Then prophet-like they hailed him father to a line of kings.
[witches] Double, double toil and trouble. Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.
using those thoughts which should indeed have died with them they think on?
I'll be myself the harbinger and make joyful
He chid the sisters when first they put the name of king upon me,
No jutty, frieze, buttress, nor coign of vantage,
-What's the matter? -Confusion now hath made his masterpiece.
Where is the Thane of Cawdor?
-What three things? -Nose-painting, sleep and urine.
to think so brainsickly of things.
Or have we eaten on the insane root that takes the reason prisoner?
Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so.
Who could refrain, that had a heart to love,
[tolling continues]
that but this blow might be the be-all and the end-all here.