Though Fortune's Malice Overthrow My State, My

I Would With Such Perfection Govern, Sir, T'excel The Golden Age.

I Love You More Than Word Can Wield The Matter, Dearer Than Eye-sight, Space And Liberty

Thou Art Most Rich, Being Poor; Most Choice, Forsaken; And Most Lov'd, Despis'd! Thee And Thy Virtues Here I Seize Upon.

Reputation, Reputation, Reputation! O, I Ha' Lost My Reputation, I Ha' Lost The Immortal Part Of Myself, And What Remains Is Bestial!

The Thane Of Cawdor Lives, A Prosperous Gentleman; And To Be King Stands Not Within The Prospect Of Belief, No More Than To Be Cawdor.