He Is The Most Wretched Of Men

Still It Cried ‘sleep No More!’ To All The House: ‘glamis Hath Murder’d Sleep, And Therefore Cawdor Shall Sleep No More,—macbeth Shall Sleep No More!

Grief Best Is Pleased With Grief's Society.

The Hand That Hath Made You Fair Hath Made You Good.

I Wasted Time, And Now Doth Time Waste Me.

If The Skin Were Parchment And The Blows You Gave Were Ink, Your Own Handwriting Would Tell You What I Think.