why, by the verities on thee made good, may they not be my oracles as well

and set me up in hope?

But hush.

No more.

Hail, Macbeth.

Hail, Macbeth. Hail, Macbeth.

Hail, Macbeth.

Hail, Macbeth.

'To be thus...is nothing,

'but to be safely thus!

'Our fears in Banquo stick deep.'

And in his royalty of nature reigns that which would be feared.

'Tis much he dares

and to that dauntless temper of his mind...

...he hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour.

How now, my Lord? Why do you keep alone?

We have scorched the snake, not killed it.

She'll close and be herself

whilst our poor malice remains in danger of her former tooth.

Things without all remedy should be without regard.