Why do I yield to that suggestion, whose (a)   image doth unfix my hair

Stars, hide your fires; let not light see my (a)   and deep desires

Will all great (a)   ocean wash this blood clean from my hand?

Sleep no more: Macbeth does (a)   sleep.

Full of (a)   is my mind!

Yet I do fear thy nature: it is too full of the (a)   of human kindness

I have no spur to prick the sides of my intent, but only vaulting (a)  

I dare do all that may become a (a)   ; who dares do more is none.

I'll go no more: I'm afraid to think what I have done, (a)   on it again I dare not.

Wake (a)   with thy knocking, I would thou couldst.

To be thus is nothing, but to be (a)   thus.

Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest (a)  

By the pricking of my thumbs, something (a)   this way comes.

I am in (a)   Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er

The castle of (a)   I will surprise;

Seize upon Fife; give to the edge o' the sword His wife, his babes

This (a)   , whose sole name blisters our tongues,

Was once thought honest

now does he feel his title Hang loose about him, like a giant's (a)   Upon a dwarfish thief.

Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking (a)  

this dead (a)   and his fiend-like queen