O my offence is rank it smells to heaven It hath the primal eldest curse upon t A brothers murder.

He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf.

That, when they shall be opened, black Macbeth Will seem as pure as snow, and the poor state (55) Esteem him as a lamb, being compared With my confineless harms.

Whats mine is yours and what is yours is mine.

Be the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it.

A plague on both your houses.

Foul cankering rust the hidden treasure frets, but gold that's put to use more gold begets.