Till our King Henry had shook hands with Death.
Thou hast the most unsavoury similes.
But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on, Leaving no tract behind.
If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge.
Some falls the means are happier to rise.
ROSS You must have patience, madam. LADY MACDUFF He had none: His flight was madness: when our actions do not, Our fears do make us traitors.