The learned pate Ducks to the golden fool. All's obliquy; There's nothing level in our cursed natures But direct villainy.

But then I sigh, and, with a piece of Scripture, Tell them that Gods bids us do good for evil: And thus I clothe my naked villainy With odd old ends stol'n forth of holy writ, And seems a saint, when most I play the devil.

Villain and he be many miles asunder.

O villainy! Ho! let the door be lock'd. Treachery! seek it out.

What do I fear? Myself? There’s none else by.
Richard loves Richard; that is, I and I.

Be bloody, bold, and resolute. Laugh to scorn
The power of man, for none of woman born
Shall harm Macbeth.