1 See, they encounter thee with their hearts' thanks.
2 Let grief Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it.
3 My hands are of your color, but I shame To wear a heart so white.
4 I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the dignity of the whole body.
5 The grief that does not speak Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break.
6 Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends; For my heart speaks they are welcome.
7 From this moment The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand.
8 Away, and mock the time with fairest show: False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
9 Tis his main hope; For where there is advantage to be given, Both more and less have given him the revolt, And none serve with him but constrained things, Whose hearts are absent too.
10 Let your remembrance apply to Banquo; Present him eminence, both with eye and tongue: Unsafe the while, that we Must lave our honours in these flattering streams, And make our faces vizards to our hearts, Disguising what they are.
11 I have liv'd long enough: my way of life Is fall'n into the sere, the yellow leaf; And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have; but, in their stead, Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.