Lay on, McDuff, and be damned he who first cries, 'Hold, enough!
There is no more mercy in him than there is milk in a male tiger.
O braggart vile and damned furious wight!
He that is robbed, not wanting what is stolen, him not know t, and he's not robbed at all.
Why, there's a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate.
Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day And make me travel forth without my cloak, To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way, Hiding they brav'ry in their rotten smoke?