1 That which you are, my thoughts cannot transpose.
2 My young remembrance cannot parallel A fellow to it.
3 I cannot fly, But, bear-like I must fight the course.
4 I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come out on's grave.
5 I cannot strike at wretched kerns, whose arms Are hired to bear their staves.
6 I have supp'd full with horrors; Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, Cannot once start me.
7 Bring me no more reports; let them fly all: Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane I cannot taint with fear.
8 I shall do so; But I must also feel it as a man: I cannot but remember such things were, That were most precious to me.
9 Weary sev'n-nights nine times nine, Shall he dwindle, peak, and pine: Though his bark cannot be lost, Yet it shall be tempest-tost.
10 We have willing dames enough; there cannot be That vulture in you, to devour so many As will to greatness dedicate themselves, Finding it so inclin'd.
11 Some say he's mad; others, that lesser hate him, Do call it valiant fury: but, for certain, He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause Within the belt of rule.